The hospital room was loud with shouting and machine noise, beeps and clanks and the whoosh of air tubes. A man and his daughter were hustled out of the room as a flat line shrieked into existence and the woman on the table was transferred to an emergency surgery cart, one medic pumping her heart manually.
The man, a ninja by his clothes and bearing, tried to follow but was cut off, his little girl having more luck. She sprinted down the hall, past doctors and chased the cart that held her mother, terror in her eyes.
The surgery room doors burst open and she stumbled in messily, getting snatched up almost immediately at the shout of 'get the girl out of here!' and yanked out of the room. None of this was fast enough to keep her from spotting, with horror, the blood or hearing the screams of the woman who was her mother before they cut off.
Before she was gone and shoved back into her father's arms she caught a glimpse of her mother, pale as death, covered in blood. A still babe was in the arms of one of the doctors and the defibrillators slammed into the woman's chest, sending her body into levitation.
The doors shut, the heart monitor beeped, and a week later a casket too small for anyone's comfort was lowered into the ground.
If every tear we shed for you became a star above, you'd stroll in Angel's garden, lit by everlasting love. -Author unknown
