"Crank up the voltage and charge the defibillator- now!"

Beep... Beep... BEEEEEEEEP.

The monitor's piercing, unsteady tone echoed through the ER, as if tolling a grim warning. A woman lay there, drenched in her own blood. Her pale skin was a contrast to the blood that smeared on the sheets. The bleating monitors showed that her vitals were failing, and she was loosing her life each passing second.

The intern nurse's hand, stained with the woman's blood, quivered as she handed the defibrillator to the doctor. Her stomach churned as she took in the gruesome sight before her. The woman's body was more of a battlefield than a human's form. It was brutally battered. Her clothes were soaked with her unrelenting blood, and her face... it was hardly a face anymore, it was shattered beyond recognition.

Even the doctor hesitated a bit as his eyes flickered over the horrifically battered body laid out on the table. "We have to stabilize her now. Charge!"

The doctor pressed the paddles against the woman's chest. Her frail body convulsed as the shock jolted through her.

"Charge!"

Again, her body jerked violently, but her eyes remained distant.

"Doctor!" The nurse's voice trembled, her face white. "We're out of blood. The B-negative supply was... taken. Just now."

The doctor's expression darkened. Who would take the blood? Just hours ago, they had reserves enough to treat half the city. Now they stood here helpless, watching her slip away.

The woman's face, barely clinging to humanity was pale. Her lips were cracked and drained of color. Her vision was almost gone too. The nurse was inexperienced, but she knew this look really well. She knew the woman was hovering on that razor-thin line between life and death, and if they couldn't get blood to her soon, there would be no bringing her back.

"Father..."

"What?"

"Gaulin Whitlock..."

Regardless of her trembling body, the intern nurse made out the name murmured by Ava Whitlock, the daughter of the famous, prominent, Whitlock household.

Gaulin Whitlock was the most influential man in Lebron City. His influence in the city was no secret. Rumors said the mayor of the city answered to him, and most decisions taken in the city were proposed by him.

The nurse was on the verge of collapsing. She dialed the wrong number at least four times before she got it right. On the doctor's signal, she put the phone on loudspeaker.

"This is the Whitlock's resident. State your reason for calling." A lady on the other end said coldly, clearly uninterested in whoever rang the phone.

"This is Seamar's hospital! Please put Mr. Whitlock on the phone immediately. It's about his daughter," the nurse said pleadingly.

A pause, then a sigh of indifference. "Mr. Whitlock is in the middle of an important party. He's unavailable..."

"His daughter is bleeding out! Please just tell him- she's dying!" The nurse cut her off with urgency.

Another sigh, followed by, "Please hold."

Five minutes passed, yet no answer. The nurse almost slammed the phone down, but then a gruff voice cut through the line.

"Gaulin speaking."

The nurse froze as his voice hit the room. Even if they were in a dire situation, this was the first time she was speaking to someone so influential. The doctor had to snatch the phone away from her. "Mr. Whitlock, your daughter is bleeding massively, but her blood type from the blood bank has been taken away. She needs immediate-"

"And what do you want me to do about it?" He asked indifferently.

The doctor went speechless for a moment. He didn't know what to say. "She's going to die," he finally found his voice. "You might as well come see her before she-"

From the background, a familiar faint voice of a woman rang, interrupting them."Who's that?"

It was Ava's mother.

"The hospital..." Gaulin replied, without so much as a tremor of concern. "Ava's at the point of death."

She paused, mumbling an "Ava's dying?" to herself. The line went silent for two seconds before a loud hiss broke through. "Good. Let her rot."

The distinct conversation between the woman and another could be heard.

Jerome, Ava's eldest brother asked, almost laughing, "Did you just say Ava's dying?"

"That is what your father said," the woman said coldly.

"Why are we being informed about this?" Noah, Ava's second brother asked.

"You're certainly speaking to the wrong family," Gaulin finally spoke into the phone. "Ava is no longer part of the Whitlock household after the little stunt she pulled. It's sickening that she still bears my household's name legally, but don't call me even if she's dead."

The silence in the room was deafening as the line went dead. The doctor stared down at the phone, at his hands that still trembled from Gaulin Whitlock's voice. The nurse's hand shook as she stepped back with widened eyes.

All the light disappeared from Ava's eyes as she lay motionless, her blood pooling into the sheets. She was barely breathing. Her chest rose and fell faintly, showing she was still alive, but her spirit, her will... they died the moment she heard her family's cold voice.

A faint tear rolled down her cheek, mingled with the blood that smeared her battered face. In her weakened state, Ava felt her soul slowly slipping away from her.

All she ever wanted in her lifetime was to be loved by her true family, to finally be seen as more than a stranger in the house that should've been her own from the start. Yet, even on the brink of death, she was tossed aside like an unwanted trinket.

Ava had always been so unfortunate- a heiress switched after birth without having the time to bond with her mother, to a family that was as cruel as her real family. And when she thought she could start her life all over as a Whitlock, and finally gain some love from her real parents and brothers, they wanted nothing with her. Even in death, her family turned their backs.

For eight whole years, she had given up so much trying to win their love. She'd endured their coldness, sacrificed her own dreams, and suffered under the shadow of a false daughter, even when they never failed to remind her everyday how they preferred their fake daughter that wasn't even their flesh and blood to her. All of these she endured hoping that one day, she'd be welcomed back.

In the end, she was left with nothing. No family, no love, no hope, murdered by the so called real daughter they claimed to have. Her entire existence had been a tragic mistake. As she felt her body give in, Ava let the darkness claim her.

The monitor emitted a final, flat beep.

If ever given another chance, she would never make the same mistakes.

Ava Whitlock. Twenty-eight. Died from internal hemorrhage from a fatal car accident.

~~~~~~~~~

HOOOOOOOONK!

The shrill blast of a car's horn tore through Ava's consciousness. Her eyes snapped, and she blinked as she found herself standing on a crosswalk at an intersection. Cars zoomed by. She had to keep her foot rooted where she stood to avoid collision.

*Honk! Honk!*

"Get the fuck out of the way, bitch!"

Adrenaline shot through her veins as her heart hammered against her ribcage. She spun around wildly, trying to comprehend the impossible. She was... alive? How?!

"Do you have a death wish or what?" Another driver yelled in anger, tires screeching as the car sped past.

At the driver's words, the memories came crashing down on her like a tidal wave: the crash, the blood, the fake heiress's twisted face with rage as the car slammed into her. This crosswalk was where it all ended, where her body was broken, and her life torn away. And now, here she was once again, standing in the exact spot.

Ava's knees wobbled. She could barely make out the voices of furious drivers screaming curses at her as they swerved to avoid her frozen body.

It's happening again! Her mind screamed. The universe had brought her back to this cruel moment, forcing her to face her death all over again.

The screeching sound of tires behind her made her blood run cold. She turned sharply with a pounding heart, just in time to see a black BMW speeding towards her.

Panic seized her chest, and her feet glued to the road. Time slowed. The car roared forward, and in that splitting second, the world became unbearably loud. Her thoughts scrambled with questions she didn't have answers to. Should she run? Scream? Do something? But her body refused to move.

The car wasn't stopping.

Tears began pooling in her eyes. It was like her previous life was being played out on repeat, a cruel joke from the universe. It was all too familiar. This was it. This was how she was going to die - again.

With a screech that could've shattered glass, the car jerked to a stop, and the front bumper stopped barely an inch away from her knees. Her hair whipped around her face from the force, and the smell of burning rubber filled the air.

Ava gasped. Her body finally responded to her and her legs buckled beneath her. She crumpled to the cold floor, trembling uncontrollably. The sound of her heartbeat pounded in her ears louder than the car's engine.

The driver flung the door open and stormed out with fury. "What the hell is wrong with you?! Are you trying to get yourself killed?!"

Ava could barely form a coherent thought, let alone respond. She just sat there, trembling, staring at the man with wide, tear-filled eyes. She was alive - but barely.

The man's anger faltered as the back door of the BMW opened. He quickly bowed when the man who initially sat at the back seat of the car stood not so close to where they were but close enough to see Ava, who sat on the cold floor.

"Ava?"

Her head snapped immediately to the unfamiliar figure who seemed to know her name.

"What are you doing, Lucas? Help my fiancee up!"