I awoke to the hushed sounds of whispering outside my door. Briana was gone, and I rose sleepily, opening the door and promptly startling everyone outside. And by everyone, I meant everyone: Lydia and all the ghosts save Andrew.

"What's up? Apart from me, that is? And what time is it?" I inquired.

Everyone gave me blank, concerned looks.

"What?" I asked them. Looking to the wall clock outside, I saw that it was well past eleven in the morning.

"Holy crud, I guess I overslept. Sorry about that," I commented.

Still no one had spoken.

"Alright, what's the deal here?" I demanded, now a little ticked off.

Lydia approached me. "Lira, I just got a phone call. It was from the local hospital, and it was concerning your mother."

I was instantly wide-awake.

"Excuse me?"

"Your mother got in a car accident earlier this morning. Someone ran a red light and kept going, even after the driver's door collision they had with your mother. The police haven't caught them yet."

"Is she alright? Is she OK? Lydia, where is my mom?"

"Oh honey, I'm so sorry…"

I knew this speech. I knew it well from hundreds of soap operas, from movies and books and scripts and stories and TV shows. But I never thought it could exist in real life.

"No…no, you're wrong. She can't…no…"

But emotions are funny things. I collapsed to the ground, unable to shed a single tear from the shock now gripping my system.

"Do you want to go over there? I can drive you right now if you like."

I almost didn't register Lydia's offer. My gut felt like it was dropping thirty stories at once.

"Chris, help her into the car. I have a feeling she wants to go." Lydia knew I couldn't speak. I let Chris take my arm and help me up and into a Jeep outside.

The car ride went by quickly, and before I knew it, I was rushing through hallways and stairways, searching for my mother. I inquired at every desk, and finally one nurse knew where she was. She told me to head to E-Wing with a solemn look.

I slammed past the doors of E-Wing and stared with more disbelief at a plaque opposite the swinging doors. Only one word sealed the jagged knife of pain slipping into my heart.

"Morgue."

I read and fell to my knees again. Lydia had caught up to me.

"Oh God…they said she was in critical condition when they called…oh baby, I'm so sorry…"

Picking myself up, I disregarded the porter's demands for me to stop and I barged into the cooler.

Locking intruders out, I scanned the small doors in the wall. Finding my last name, I gave one silent prayer that it wouldn't be her, that she was alright in a white, clean bed somewhere in some anonymous hotel, waiting for six-o'clock to roll around so she could pick me up. I prayed that the police had been wrong, that they had dialed the wrong number, and that this was some other woman, some evil person who probably deserved to die or something close to it.

But as I unlocked the silver door, I heard Lydia's voice outside, along with the porter's, promising he had this happen several times a week; that no charges would be pressed and that I was just emotional.

I rolled out the gurney and, with one last hope, unfolded the sheet covering the figure below.

It was her.

My beautiful, precious mother, a few cuts on her brow and a peaceful expression across her face. Her hair was a bit messy, but her eyes were closed and she looked as if she were sleeping.

My tears came now, but not in the torrential flow that I saw come from Briana last night. They were just a steady stream, falling and bathing my mother in the last shower she would ever have.

I was barely aware of the car ride home. It was close to dusk when Lydia pulled in the driveway and led me into her house. Everyone was silent as she took me to the guestroom and left me to my thoughts.