Merida's fragile form lay still on the hospital bed, her head swathed in layers of gauze. Her breathing was being stabilized by an oxygen mask. Her monitor beeped, a sign that she was still alive. An IV pole stood beside her, its tubes snaking into her arm, delivering a steady dose of medication to ease her pain.
The hospital room was a blur of soft pastels and antiseptic smells, the only sound the soft hum and beeping of machinery and the occasional rustle of scrubs as nurses moved with quiet efficiency. Merida's chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm, her eyes closed as if lost in a deep slumber.
"I can't believe someone would do this to my daughter." A lady sobbed. She had sprinkles of grey hair in her brown hair. She looked like an older version of Merida. There was another la
