[SAM EVAN]
The world blurred as I sprinted toward the wreckage. My sister lay there, crumpled and broken, her face a mask of pain. I didn't think—I just acted.
Her blood stained my hands, warm and sticky. The metallic scent filled my nostrils, and I pushed forward, my heart pounding in my chest. "Hold on," I whispered, my voice cracking.
The ambulance was close now, its sirens wailing like a desperate plea. I ran, dodging debris—twisted metal, shards of glass—my sneakers slipping on the slick pavement.
I cradled her against my chest, her weight pulling me down. "I've got you," I said, my voice hoarse.
"Stay strong," I told her, my fingers brushing her forehead. "I'll be right behind you."
The ambulance doors swung open, and I didn't hesitate. The paramedics met me halfway. Their gloved hands took her from my arms, and I watched as they secured her to the stretcher. Their movements were swift, practiced—their eyes focused on saving her. I climbed in, my heart racing.
The interior was sterile—white walls, fluorescent lights, the faint hum of medical equipment. I sat beside her, gripping the edge of the seat. The paramedic across from me gave a nod, his eyes compassionate.
"You're her brother?" he asked.
I nodded; my throat tight. "Yeah. How bad is it?"
He glanced at the monitors. "Multiple fractures, internal bleeding. We're doing everything we can."
The ambulance jolted forward, sirens wailing. My sister's eyes met mine, fear and trust mingling. "You're here," she whispered.
I squeezed her hand. "Always."
The paramedic worked with precision, checking her vitals, administering pain medication. I watched, helpless, as they fought to stabilize her.
"Hang on," I told her. "We're almost there."
The ride was a blur—every pothole, every turn magnified. I listened to the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, willing it to stay steady.
My sister's breaths grew shallower. "I'm scared," she admitted.
I leaned closer. "Me too. But we're in this together."
And as the ambulance raced through the city streets, I suddenly remembered?...brother?
I checked my phone; the call was still on.
"Brother?" I said.
"I'm here." Perhaps this was the first time I heard him crying.
"We…we are heading to the hospital."
"Hmm. I will be there shortly," he informed.
"Well…how did this happen?" I gulped, trying to keep back my tears and holding Karrin's hand more tightly.
"This?...I don't know exactly. I called her during the time of the accident… I guess she became dizzy and lost car control."
The ambulance suddenly stopped, and the driver informed us, "We are here."
The hospital loomed ahead, its emergency entrance a beacon of hope. The ambulance screeched to a halt, and the doors swung open.
I stepped out, legs shaky from the adrenaline-fueled ride. The paramedics wheeled my sister inside, her face still etched with pain.
Nurses swarmed around her, their movements efficient. I followed, my heart lodged in my throat. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow.
"What happened?" a nurse asked, clipboard in hand.
I stumbled over my words. "Car accident. Multiple fractures, internal bleeding… A doctor on behalf of Evan's must have arrived."
"oh, you are from Evans…I will inform that doctor." The nurse said and left
The tension in the VIP waiting room was palpable. The soft glow of chandeliers illuminated worried faces—siblings, parents, and spouses—all bound by love and shared concern. The plush furnishings seemed inadequate, unable to cushion the weight of our collective anxiety.
I glanced at the clock, its hands moving too slowly. The receptionist's voice, monotone yet reassuring, echoed through the glass partition. "Yes, sir. We'll update you as soon as we have news."
News. That elusive word—the difference between relief and devastation.
My gaze shifted to the double doors. I remembered the chaos—the paramedics, the stretcher, the urgency. My sister's hand slipping from mine as they wheeled her away.
And then the doors swung open. My brother burst in, disheveled and breathless. Fear mirrored in both our eyes.
"How is she?" he asked, his voice raw.
I stood up. "In surgery. They're doing everything they can."
He sank into the chair beside me. "I should've been here sooner."
I shook my head. "You're here now."
Together, we waited—the VIPs, the privileged, the desperate. The chandeliers above continued to glow, casting shadows on the marble floor.
Suddenly, a thought struck me. "Where are Mom and Dad?"
"I haven't told them yet," my brother confessed. "They left for a business trip this morning. I can't reach them."
"And is there any news about Karrin's accident?" I pressed, my voice barely above a whisper.
"No," my brother replied tersely. "I suppressed it."
We both prayed silently—for Karrin's survival, for the strength to endure this uncertainty.
When the doctor finally emerged, we sprang to our feet. My brother's urgency was evident as he asked about Karrin's condition.
"Thankfully, the operation was successful," the doctor informed us. "We'll transfer her to the VIP ward."
"But is she awake?" I interrupted, my heart racing.
The doctor's solemn expression told the story. "Not yet. While the surgery went well, we can't predict when—or if—she'll wake up."
My frustration boiled over, and I grabbed the doctor's collar. "What do you mean by 'not waking up'?"
My brother intervened, pushing me back. "Calm down."
The doctor explained, "We need to see if she can make it through this critical night before we can provide further information."
Back in the waiting room, the chandeliers continued their glow, but their light felt inadequate against the uncertainty. Then, the nurses wheeled Karrin's stretcher out. She lay there, bandaged and masked, her hand limp.
My brother rushed to her side, stroking her hair. "Karrin, can you hear me?"
I pressed my forehead to her hand, silently willing her to wake up.
"Sirs," a nurse interrupted, "you have to leave. We need to shift her to the VIP ward."
We reluctantly stepped back as they moved her. Once in the private ward, my anger flared anew. What if someone had caused this intentionally? Evans had enemies—anything was possible.
My brother dialed a number, his expression determined. "I need a detailed analysis of Ms. Karrin's accident. Also, find out where she went and who she met since yesterday.
As he cut the call, I knew one thing: If someone had harmed Karrin, they were about to face the wrath of two siblings who would stop at nothing to protect her.
And so, the waiting continued—a battle against time, uncertainty, and the shadows cast by those chandeliers. But we were ready to fight for Karrin, no matter the cost .