The hospital corridor filled with people, either standing, moving, or holding their phones to their ears; the smell of antiseptic, mixed with fear and smoke, still clung to everyone’s clothes. The bomb blast has affected so many families, only a few were lucky to have just casualties.
Nurses rushed past with clipboards, faces tight. Machines beeped in every room, steady but never comforting, somehow increasing the tension.
Claret burst through the double doors, high heels clicking fast and uneven on the tile. Her face fixed ahead as she pushed through people.
Her coat flapped behind her like broken wings. Makeup perfect as always, but her eyes were red, wild. She stopped at the nurses’ station, voice breaking.
“My daughter.. Marie Valenti. Where is she? Tell me now!”
The nurse looked
