chapter 2
591 Words
Chapter 2
Helen sat curled in the cold plastic hospital chair, arms wrapped tightly around herself as if she were the only thing keeping her body from falling apart. The minutes dragged, thick and heavy, each one pressing down on her chest until she could barely breathe.
The emergency doors stayed shut. Still. Silent. Refusing to tell her anything.
Then—footsteps. Fast. Familiar.
“Helen?”
Vicky rushed into the waiting room, eyes wide and frantic until they landed on Helen. She dropped to her knees in front of her, hands reaching out before she could even speak.
That was all it took.
Helen’s lips trembled, and the tears she had been choking back spilled hot and unstoppable. Vicky’s presence—steady, familiar—broke something inside her.
“Oh, sweetheart…” Vicky whispered, gripping Helen’s cold hands in her warm ones. “What did the doctors say?”
Helen shook her head, voice cracking. “They… they haven’t said anything yet.”
Vicky’s jaw tightened, anger and worry flickering across her face. “And Victor?” she asked carefully.
Helen looked down at her phone. The blank screen stared back at her.
No messages. No calls. No nothing.
“He hasn’t called,” she whispered, guilt mingling with fear.
Vicky squeezed her hand. “We’ll handle it. Whatever happens—we’ll face it together.”
Helen folded into Vicky’s arms, letting her cry, letting herself unravel because holding it in hurt even more.
She prayed for any sliver of good news.
When the doctor finally appeared, everything stopped.
His expression—tight, apologetic—was the kind of look people wore when they wished they didn’t have to speak.
Helen’s breath trembled. “Is… is he okay?”
The doctor exhaled slowly. “We… we did everything we could.”
No.
Helen’s heart stopped.
“He was fighting a severe infection. His fever was too high for too long. His little body just couldn’t—”
“No.”
The word barely left her lips. A whisper. A plea. A prayer. A denial.
But the room tilted.
Her ears filled with static.
Her knees buckled under her.
“Helen!” Vicky cried, but the sound was a distant echo.
Helen didn’t feel the chair.
Didn’t feel the floor.
Didn’t feel her own body collapsing.
Only darkness swallowed her.
Chaos erupted around her—voices shouting, nurses rushing, hands trying to steady her. Helen drifted in and out of consciousness, and somewhere far away, Vicky was pleading:
“Please—help her! Please!”
But the only thing Helen’s mind clung to was the sentence that kept replaying, over and over, like a hammer smashing her chest:
We did everything we could.
When Helen came to, she was in another part of the waiting room. Vicky sat beside her, fingers trembling as she held her hand. Her eyes were red and swollen.
Helen stared blankly ahead, numb, as if her soul had been scooped out of her body.
“Why?” Her voice broke, a cracked whisper. “Why did he leave me? Why wasn’t he here?”
Vicky didn’t answer. Her voice was too thick with grief. “I don’t know, Helen.”
Helen’s body shook violently, sobs ripping through her. She clung to Vicky like she was the last thing keeping her alive.
“My baby…”
Her voice splintered, raw and agonizing.
“My baby’s gone…”
Her cry shattered the air.
And for the first time in her life, Helen felt the world collapse around her.
- Writer
