Sounds of sirens came rushing in as they carefully grabbed out all the victims in the car. It crashed and nearly fell over the cliff. It was considered lucky that the passengers were able to survive.
When Sharmaine ever-so-slightly opened her eyes to try and grip her tummy, thoughts of confusion swirled around her head. She couldn't discern any pain as she shivered in fear. Her vision was fuzzy, yet it did not stop her from seeing blood pools.
"The person is regaining consciousness!" one shouted.
Everything moved fast. Motions of the people bringing her in and out of the ambulance, the doctors screaming, and the machines beeping. She heard it all. Even the gentle touch of the bed sheets to her skin and the cool breeze coming from the air conditioner—she felt it all.
Whispering sounds. That's what she heard at the first two hours, probably, of her being "dead". She couldn't move nor open her eyes to see where she was. Suddenly, sharp sounds of high heels made its way into the same room she was. She could just tell as it got louder every time it lengthens.
"How's the patient?" said a woman whose voice she did not know.
"Ah, she is stabilized for the time being. It also appears that she had just went into comma due to her head being hit to hard," another woman said, who most likely is a nurse.
"Good. Just keep monitoring her condition."
"Yes, ma'am."
--
A woman of power and dignity came out of the room where she previously was. As soon as she saw the lady in bed, she felt her heart sinking deeper into nowhere. She had a miscarriage; she remembered what the doctor told her.
"Miscarriage. She was pregnant, huh?"
Her voice echoed through the hollow and isolated room. Regardless, she kept her head up to walk straight into her office. It was neither bright nor dim, for the sunshine provided light that was not irritating to her eyes. At the center of the room stood her desk, which was an important piece in her memories. Almost everything she looked at was important, and for the past 18 years, all of them still meant something to her. She took slow steps towards the center, eyeing down the title she was bestowed upon by her passed husband.
CEO Iris Mendoza.
Owner of Shawn Corporation.
She said it right this time. She gazed to the family portrait that hung to her right and stroked it with her fingers, specifically on her daughter's face. She was such a child back then—innocent and pure. That's why she was shocked to receive the news that someone had tainted her.
She balled her fists tightly, staring at the eyes of her very own daughter. "I'm so sorry, dear. Mommy's back. We'll take revenge, I promise." A tear came down from her cheek, and as soon as she realized, she wiped it away.
"Mommy's back, Sharmaine, Mommy's back."