CHAPTER 3
1128 Words
CHAPTER THREE
THE WAITING ROOM
Allison | Present Tense
My scream rips through the night.
“Mom!”
I stumble toward her, legs barely holding me. Someone grabs my arm. I yank free without looking. All I see is my mother lying motionless on the road.
So much blood.
The sight twists something deep in my stomach. Terror sinks its teeth into my chest. She isn’t moving. She isn’t opening her eyes. She isn’t answering. The woman who always seemed unbreakable looks terrifyingly fragile under the harsh streetlights.
I drop to my knees beside her.
“No…” My voice cracks. “No, no, no…”
Tears blur everything. My shaking fingers find her hand. It is still warm. That only makes it worse.
“Mom, wake up,” I whisper. “Please wake up.”
She doesn’t.
Chaos surges around us. Shouts. Slamming car doors. Sirens in the distance. None of it feels real. The world beyond her body is muffled, underwater. I am the only solid thing left.
A hand lands on my shoulder. I barely register it. Paramedics rush in, voices sharp with medical terms I cannot follow. They ease me aside and close around her like a wall.
Someone asks if I am hurt.
Someone else asks what happened.
I have no answers. I can only stare at her and pray, because if she dies tonight our last conversation will be that stupid argument, and I am not ready to carry that for the rest of my life.
* * *
The ambulance ride stretches forever. I sit beside her stretcher, clutching her hand so tightly my fingers ache. Machines beep. Paramedics move quickly, adjusting lines, calling out updates I do not understand. I never look away from her face.
I wait for her eyes to open.
I wait for her to scold me for crying.
I wait for her to squeeze my hand.
She never does.
* * *
The emergency department is blindingly bright and smells of antiseptic and fear. Doctors wheel her through double doors. I try to follow and am stopped by a nurse.
“That’s my mother,” I say. Panic claws up my throat.
“I know,” she answers gently, hand on my arm. “But you can’t go in right now.”
“Please.”
Her expression softens. “They need space to work.”
I hate how kind she sounds. Kindness always arrives right before the worst news.
I watch the doors swing shut. One second she is there. The next she is gone, and I am alone in a crowded hospital that suddenly feels completely empty.
* * *
Hours bleed past in the waiting room. I sit staring at the operating theatre doors while the rest of the world keeps moving. Doctors pass with charts. Nurses hurry down corridors. Families cry, laugh, argue, pray.
Life continues.
Mine has stopped.
Every time those doors open, hope flares sharp and painful, then dies when no one calls my name. My phone stays clenched in my hand. Three missed calls. Three chances I did not take.
The guilt is a living thing.
If I had answered the first call, she would not have had to run after me.
If I had answered the second, she would not have been crossing that road.
If I had answered the third…
I squeeze my eyes shut.
No.
I cannot walk that path. Not yet.
* * *
Sometime after three in the morning, a nurse approaches with a small clear bag.
“Miss Summers?”
I look up too quickly.
The sympathy in her eyes makes my stomach drop.
“These belonged to your mother.”
My hands shake as I take the bag. Inside: her purse, her phone, and the necklace I gave her. The necklace is stained with blood.
For a moment I cannot breathe.
Hours ago I wanted her to wear it.
Now I would give anything to take back our fight.
The nurse squeezes my shoulder and leaves me alone again.
My eyes fall on Mom’s phone. There is a voice message. Sent at 11:58 PM. Two minutes before everything changed.
With trembling fingers I unlock it and press play.
Static. Then her voice.
“Allison…”
A sob catches in my throat. She sounds out of breath, like she had been running.
“Allison, sweetheart…”
My vision blurs.
“I’m sorry.”
The words crack something deep inside me.
“I shouldn’t have said those things.”
Tears slip down my cheeks.
“The necklace is beautiful.”
My shoulders begin to shake.
“I know you worked hard for it.”
Her voice cracks.
“And I know you bought it because you love me.”
I can barely see the screen anymore.
“I was proud of you before the necklace, Allison.”
A broken sound escapes me.
Because that is all I have ever wanted to hear.
“I’m proud of the woman you’ve become.”
The waiting room disappears. The noise, the lights, the people — everything fades until only her voice remains.
“I love you.”
The words hit harder than anything else.
“I love you so much.”
A pause.
Then softer: “Come back.”
Another pause.
“So we can celebrate together.”
The message ends.
And I break.
Not quiet tears. Not silent grief. I cry the kind that steals your breath and leaves your whole body shaking. I cry for the argument, for the missed calls, for the birthday we might never have, and for the terrifying possibility that I will never hear her voice again.
I do not know how long I sit there.
Eventually, footsteps approach.
I look up through blurred eyes. A doctor stands in front of me.
My heart pounds.
His expression tells me everything and nothing at once.
“Miss Summers?”
I stand so fast the chair almost falls.
“How is she?”
The doctor exhales slowly.
“The surgery was successful.”
Relief crashes through me so hard my knees nearly buckle. For one brief second I believe everything will be okay.
Then he keeps talking.
“But your mother suffered severe trauma to the brain.”
my legs falter and stumble back.
“We managed to stabilize her, but…”
My stomach drops.
“We don’t know if she’ll wake up.”
The words echo in my head. We don’t know if she’ll wake up.
I stare at him, waiting for more. For hope. For a timeline. For anything.
He stays quiet.
And as those words settle over me, I understand something cold and final.
The life I knew only a few hours ago is gone and It is not coming back.
- Writer
