Chapter Thirty-Six
414 Words
The sliding doors of the ER whooshed open with a mechanical gasp as Chloe burst through, her heart slamming so hard against her ribs she thought she might black out.
She barely registered the chaos — the ringing phones, the sharp antiseptic sting in the air, the flicker of harsh fluorescent lights.
She only saw one thing.
Leia.
Flat on a gurney.
Hair matted to her forehead with sweat.
Oxygen mask strapped tight over her face.
Arms dangling limp at her sides like discarded puppets.
Two paramedics barked rapid-fire medical jargon to a nurse jogging alongside them:
“Severe hypotension. Febrile seizures prior to arrival. Agonal breathing started en route. IV fluids pushed, adrenaline administered once—”
The gurney whipped past Chloe fast enough to stir the dead air around her.
She tried to follow —
only to be intercepted by a wall of uniform.
A security guard stepped in front of her, palms up, blocking the way.
“Ma’am — family?”
“Yes — yes, she’s my mom!” Chloe gasped, the words breaking apart as they left her throat.
The guard’s hands stayed firm, corralling her toward the check-in window.
“Stay here.”
Chloe twisted, frantic to keep Leia in sight —
but the trauma doors swallowed her mother whole before she could even scream.
Gone.
Swallowed by buzzing machines and blinding white walls.
Gone.
⸻
The triage nurse snapped her fingers sharply in Chloe’s face.
“Name?”
Chloe jerked.
“Chloe Cole,” she rasped.
“Patient’s name?”
“Leia Cole.”
The nurse’s fingers flew over the keyboard without looking up.
More questions — fast, sharp, impersonal.
Allergies?
Medications?
History?
Last known well time?
Chloe stumbled through the answers, her voice spiraling higher, thinner, cracking with every breath.
“She was sick… she’s been sick for days… I thought it was just the flu—”
The nurse’s mouth tightened into a grim, unspoken judgment — but she said nothing.
Just kept typing.
Kept moving.
⸻
The waiting room tilted around her.
The hard plastic chairs.
The fluorescent hum drilling into her skull.
The sharp, chemical stink burning her nose.
Chloe dropped into the nearest chair like a marionette with its strings cut, clutching her elbows so tightly it hurt.
Her whole body trembled.
⸻
Owen.
Ryan.
She needed to call them.
She needed to do something — anything —
other than sit here and wait to find out if her mother was already dead.
- Writer
