Liora stood frozen, her legs refusing to move as her eyes took in the horror before her. Her breath hitched in her chest as she stared at the barely breathing body of her daughter, Orla. The scene was like something out of a nightmare, a grotesque, unrecognizable version of reality. Her once vibrant, energetic child was now motionless, barely breathing, her tiny form drenched in blood. The crimson pools around her seemed endless, as if the world itself was draining away with her daughter's life. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest, each beat more frantic than the last.
Liora's vision blurred as she tried to focus, the tears cascading down her face, blurring the edges of her sight. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog that was suffocating her, but the image before her remained unchanged—Orla, her precious daughter, covered in blood. A sickening realization surged through her, making the air feel thick and suffocating. There was a gash on the side of Orla's head, the blood already staining her hair, and the sight of it made Liora's stomach churn. The color drained from her face as a horrible truth began to creep into her mind—her daughter was in grave danger.
Her breath was shallow, each inhale a struggle, her chest constricting with a mixture of fear and disbelief. She didn't want to believe it. How could this happen? Her world, once so full of love and laughter, was now slipping through her fingers like sand.
When a policeman shifted slightly to move her daughter's body, the impact of that action was enough to make Liora's knees buckle beneath her. The sight of her child, sprawled out on the road, her blood mingling with the earth beneath her, shattered what was left of her composure. Panic surged through her as she took a hesitant step forward, then another, her legs like lead, unwilling to obey her commands.
"Ma'am, you need to stay back," a voice interrupted her desperate attempts to reach her daughter. The officer's hand was firm on her arm, holding her in place, but Liora barely felt it. She was numb, her body reacting instinctively to the pull of her daughter. The officer's voice was distant, almost inaudible as she stared at Orla's still form.
"No, no, please," she whispered, her voice hoarse with disbelief. "Please… let me go to her. Please..." Her words trailed off into an incomprehensible sob.
Somehow, though, the officer's grip was no match for the desperation and determination flooding through her veins. Without thinking, Liora tore her arm away and pushed forward, moving towards her daughter. Another officer tried again to stop her, but he couldn't. She was a mother, and nothing in the world could keep her from her child.
She reached Orla, collapsing to her knees beside the tiny, bloodied body. Her hands shook as she touched her daughter's cold skin. Tears blurred her vision further as she cradled Orla's head in her lap, smoothing back the blood-soaked strands of hair.
"Come, Orla, mummy is here…" Her voice trembled with raw emotion, each word carrying the weight of a mother's desperate love. "Oh, baby… Daddy made your favorite food. We'll go home, I promise. We'll go home and everything will be okay. Just wake up, darling. Please, wake up."
But there was no answer. No movement. Nothing but the cold stillness that surrounded her. Liora's chest tightened, and a sob wracked her body, shaking her from the inside out. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Everything in her screamed for Orla to respond, but there was nothing. Not even a twitch.
The sound of sirens in a distance became louder, and Liora barely registered the paramedics approaching, their swift movements marking the urgency of the situation. One of them knelt beside her and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. His voice was soft but firm. "Ma'am, we need to take her to the hospital. She's lost a lot of blood."
Liora barely nodded, her hands shaking violently as she allowed them to lift Orla from her lap. She didn't let go. Not even for a second. The weight of Orla in her arms was both comforting and terrifying. It was a lifeline, but it was also a reminder of the fragile, shattered state her daughter was in.
Inside the ambulance, Liora held Orla's hand to her face, her fingers trembling against her daughter's pale skin. The warmth, so faint and fleeting, made her heart ache with longing for the little girl who had always filled her life with joy.
"Please, don't take her from me," Liora whispered to herself, her voice breaking with each prayer. She didn't know if Orla could hear her, but she had to believe she could. Had to believe that her daughter, her beautiful girl, would come back to her.
The trip to the hospital felt like an eternity. The world outside the ambulance seemed distant and unreal, like the life they had once known was slipping away with every passing second. The fluorescent lights of the hospital were blinding when they finally arrived, and Liora was ushered into the sterile, impersonal halls. The smell of antiseptic and disinfectant stung her nostrils, but it did little to clear the fog in her mind.
Orla was rushed immediately into surgery, leaving Liora standing in the cold, stark hallway, waiting. Alone.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and she fumbled to pull it out, her hands still shaking. It was Alaric.
"Where are you?" His voice cracked with panic, a deep concern lacing every word.
"We're at the hospital," Liora managed to say, her voice breaking as she relayed the events. She told him everything—how she had found Orla, the blood, the terror and then, for a moment, her words dissolved into a mess of sobs.
"I'm coming Liora." Alaric's voice was strained. His words tried to offer comfort, but they felt hollow against the rawness of Liora's heart. He had no idea what was happening, how badly Orla was hurt, how close they were to losing everything.
Time seemed to stretch and warp, each passing minute a cruel reminder that their world had been irreversibly changed. Liora couldn't bear to sit still. She paced the hallway, each step an echo of her growing dread. What if it was too late? What if the doctors couldn't save her daughter? The questions spiraled out of control, but she pushed them back, focusing instead on the rhythm of her steps, the feel of Orla's cold hand still lingering in her memory.
When the doors to the operating room finally opened, Liora's heart leaped in her chest. A doctor emerged, his expression unreadable.
"Are you Orla's guardians?" His voice was clinical, detached, and Liora's heart skipped.
"Yes," she managed to choke out. Alaric, now by her side, nodded wordlessly.
The doctor didn't speak immediately, and Liora's mind raced, searching for any sign of good news. But when he did speak, his words were a cold slap of reality.
"Your daughter is in critical condition," the doctor said, his voice grave. "We've stabilized her for now, but she's lost a significant amount of blood. We need you to prepare for the worst."
The words fell into the silence like a death knell. The air in the room seemed to go still, pressing in on Liora from all sides.