Chapter 7 - The Flatline
Cold.
Everything was freezing cold, and the darkness felt heavier than a lead blanket.
I couldn't hear the sirens anymore, nor could I hear Chloe’s desperate apologies.
There was only a strange, echoing silence that felt entirely peaceful after the chaos of the backyard.
Then, a sudden, violent jolt of electricity ripped through my chest, forcing my eyes to snap open for a fraction of a second.
I saw the bright, sterile lights of the ambulance ceiling rushing past me.
“Clear!” a muffled voice shouted.
Another brutal shock tore through my body, lifting me off the stretcher before slamming me back down.
The long, continuous beep of the monitor suddenly fractured into a rapid, erratic rhythm.
“We got a pulse, but her pressure is tanking,” the paramedic yelled to the driver.
“Step on it, she’s bleeding out internally!”
I wanted to tell them that I was okay, that the pain was starting to fade, but I couldn't move my mouth.
The ambulance swayed violently as it took a sharp turn, throwing the paramedics against the walls.
I drifted back into the cold darkness, perfectly content to let the world slip away.
I had done my job.
Chloe was safe, my father knew the truth, and Uncle Richard was finally going to pay for what he had done.
Hours, or maybe days later, a new sensation pierced through the heavy fog in my mind.
It was the smell of strong antiseptic and the gentle hum of a hospital ventilation system.
I slowly fluttered my eyes open, squinting against the harsh fluorescent lights of the intensive care unit.
I was hooked up to a dozen different machines, with an IV line running into my uninjured arm.
Beside my bed, slumped in an uncomfortable plastic chair, was Chloe.
She was wearing a hospital-issued sweatshirt, her hair was a tangled mess, and her face was heavily swollen from crying.
She looked entirely different from the perfect, confident girl who had demanded I take my robe off just yesterday.
She looked broken.
I tried to speak, but my throat was painfully dry.
I managed to twitch my fingers, brushing them lightly against her hand.
Chloe jerked awake instantly, her wide eyes locking onto mine.
“Maya?” she whispered, jumping out of the chair.
She hovered over me, afraid to touch me and cause more pain.
“You're awake, oh my god, I thought we lost you.”
Before I could answer, the door to the hospital room clicked open.
A doctor stepped inside holding a thick manila folder, his expression completely unreadable.
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“It's a miracle you survived the surgery, Maya,” the doctor said, slowly walking to the foot of my bed.
“But while we were running your bloodwork for the transfusion, we discovered something that you and your family need to know immediately.”
