POV: First Person
Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep
'Enough…'
Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep
'Stop it…' Beep 'I don't wanna hear it anymore!' Beep.
POV: Reader
As the lifeless body of a young girl, about the age of 18, lies in the standard white sheeted, plastic railed, and soft pillowed hospital bed, small, round, flat and sticky rubber pad like objects cling to her chest on top of her heart. A small harmless clamp attached to her left index finger shines with a red light to keep track of her blood pressure. The IV lines pierced her skin and entered the vein that went up her left arm and held still by clear hospital style tape.
The breathing tubes trailed from her mouth to a medical issued respirator, the only thing keeping her alive while she remains in a trauma induced coma. The machine that reads her heart rate continuously repeats the highly annoying sound that floods the room and reaches the ears of another young woman. She
She stands over the girl, her chin length bangs shrouding her eyes from view. As she looks over the motionless vessel, anger begins to overwhelm her senses. Her fingers coil into fists and her teeth grind. Momentarily, she subsides this fury and leans down to the younger girl's forehead.
Placing a small kiss on her forehead, pushing tiny strands of hair away. She stands up straight, turns and walks out of the Royal Guard's Medical Quarters. Her footsteps become heavy, her fists become tighter and her eyebrows begin to furrow. She moves through the halls with only one thing on her mind.
'Something bad happened. Someone knows. Someone is going to tell me, and then someone will pay.'
