Zarina sat motionless in the stiff hospital chair beside Cady’s bed, her hand gently clasping her wife’s limp fingers. The room was quiet except for the steady beep of the monitor tracking Cady’s heart rate, slow, chanical, unchanging. Tubes snaked across Cady’s body, the ventilator forcing rhythmic breaths into lungs that no longer knew how to work on their own. Her face was pale, peaceful in a way that made Zarina’s chest ache even more.
The doctor’s words from earlier replayed in her mind like a cruel loop.
"I’m very sorry," the neurosurgeon had said, his voice low and asured, eyes filled with the kind of practiced compassion that ca from delivering news like this too many tis. "We did everything we could in surgery. The bullets, one entered through the right temporal region and fragnted, causing extensive damage to the temporal and frontal lobes, with significant hemorrhage and swelling. The second lodged deeper, near the brainstem. We evacuated what hematoma we could and controlled the bleeding, but the injury to the brainstem... it’s severe. Her Coma Scale score has remained at 3 since admission, no eye opening, no verbal response, no motor response even to painful stimuli. Her brainstem reflexes are minimal; pupils are fixed and dilated. We’ve done repeat imaging, and there’s widespread irreversible damage, diffuse axonal injury combined with the direct trauma and secondary swelling. She’s in a deep, persistent coma, essentially a vegetative state at this point. We... we can’t say with certainty that she’ll ever regain consciousness. The prognosis for aningful recovery is extrely poor. In cases like this, many patients never erge, or if they do, it’s with profound disabilities. We’ve stabilized her as much as possible, but you should prepare yourself for the possibility that this may be... permanent."
Zarina had scread then until she felt numb, but now, alone with Cady, the words crashed over her again. Tears slipped silently down her cheeks, dripping onto the thin hospital blanket. She stroked Cady’s cheek, willing so flicker of life, so sign. Nothing. Just the hiss of the ventilator and the distant hum of the hospital.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She ignored it.
It buzzed again. And again. Persistent, insistent.
Anger flared hot in her chest, sharp, sudden.
Who the hell could possibly need her right now? She snatched the phone out, saw the screen lighting up with Mark’s na. That idiot. The one Knight had ordered her to play pretend with, to get close as part of so larger sche. She didn’t care anymore. None of it mattered. The only person who had ever truly mattered lay here, almost dead.
She stord out of the room, pushing through the door into the hallway, then out the main exit into the cool evening air. Tears poured freely now, mixing with the humidity. The phone kept ringing. She swiped to answer, ready to scream.
"What the f..." The word froze in her throat.
An ambulance screeched into the driveway, lights flashing. Paradics leaped out, yanking a stretcher from the back.
Knight lay there, blood soaking his shirt, face ashen, eyes closed. Hospital staff rushed forward, wheeling him in, shouting stats and orders.
Zarina’s head spun. She turned just in ti to see another car skid to a stop. Veronica stumbled out, blood streaking her arms and face, sobbing openly. Revelation followed, grim-faced, steadying her.
Genesis burst from the ambulance area, covered in Knight’s blood, eyes wild. Their gazes locked for a split second, raw, wordless horror before Genesis sprinted inside.
Revelation reached Zarina first, breathing hard.
"What happened?" Zarina whispered, heart slamming against her ribs.
Revelation’s voice cracked. "It’s...a long story."
Zarina felt the world tilt. They all rushed inside together.
In the trauma bay, chaos reigned. Knight was already on the table, monitors screaming. A doctor called out, "No pulse! Starting compressions!"
They shocked him, defibrillator paddles slamming down. "Clear!" Nothing. Again. "Clear!" Flatline.
Genesis stood at the edge, hands over her mouth. "Please... please..."
The team worked relentlessly, chest compressions, epinephrine, another shock. Over and over. Minutes stretched.
The lead doctor finally stepped back, face etched with regret. "We’ve been at this for... too long. No response. No organized rhythm. Pupils fixed. I’m sorry... ti of death..."
"NO!" Genesis scread, lunging forward. "Do it again! Please, one more ti!"
Revelation reached for her. "Genesis..."
"Don’t touch !" She shoved Revelation away, tears streaming. "Do it again or I’ll do it myself!"
The doctors exchanged heavy glances. One sighed. "We’ll try once more."
They charged the paddles. "Clear!" Shock. Nothing. They tried over and over again but nothing and they stopped.
Genesis collapsed to her knees beside the gurney, clutching Knight’s hand. She leaned over him, kissing his cold forehead, his cheeks, pumping his chest herself with desperate, ragged compressions. "Co back... please, co back to ..."
Nurses gently tried to pull her away. She fought them. "No! He’s not gone!"
The doctor spoke softly, voice breaking protocol just a little. "He’s... he’s gone. We’ve done everything. The heart won’t restart. I’m so sorry."
Genesis wailed, collapsing against him. Then she bowed her head, whispering through the tears. "Please, Lord... I haven’t asked for much in my life. You sent him to . Please... don’t take him. I never even knew if You were real, but please... show Yourself. Bring him back. Please..."
She kept praying, tears soaking his shirt, hand gripping his.
Then, her breath hitched. She felt it. A faint squeeze. His fingers... moved.
Her eyes flew wide. "He touched ! He grabbed my hand!"
Revelation stared at her in concern "What?"
"Yes, he did! I felt it!" Genesis turned to the doctor, frantic. "Do it again, the defibrillator! One more ti, please!"
The team hesitated. "Ma’am, his heart’s been asystole for...."
"Please!" Genesis begged, turning to Revelation. "Tell them. One more ti."
Revelation swallowed hard, then nodded to the doctor. "Please. Just... one more."
The doctor exhaled. "Alright. Charging... Clear!"
Shock. Nothing.
Again. "Clear!"
Still nothing.
Genesis prayed harder, whispering feverishly.
Third shock. "Clear!"
The monitor stuttered then beeped. A rhythm. Sinus tachycardia, weak at first, then stronger.
The room froze.
"Oh my God," one doctor muttered.
The lead doctor’s eyes widened. "We have return of spontaneous circulation. Pulse is thready but present. Get him to the OR, now!"
Genesis scread, joy and disbelief exploding. "YES!"
They wheeled Knight away in a rush, nurses and doctors shouting orders, prepping for ergency surgery to repair the damage.
Genesis stood there, trembling, staring at the empty space where he’d been. Revelation pulled her into a tight hug as the doors swung shut behind the team.
Zarina watched it all, numb, tears still falling. Two people so close to her, both hanging by threads. The hospital lights blurred as she whispered to no one, "Please... let them both co back."
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