Saving Death

Chapter 2

Ambulance sirens pierced my mind and disinfectant burned the back of my nostrils as I entered the hospital. My mind was a blur of colour and my body a cocktail of nerves. Paramedics whipped past me in a flurry of activity and I became aware they were attending to my mum. I strained to see her through the throng of activity, but my heart stopped as my eyes settled on her lifeless body covered by a blue sheet. As they wheeled her down the corridor, her delicate hand slipped from under the sheet and hung off the side of the bed.

Panic gripped me. I didn't have a clue whether she was alive or dead. My legs felt like melting wax as they began to give way, but before I had time to give in to their weakness, I moved down the corridor towards the operating theatre. With every step, the sound of my shoes skidding on the lino floor reverberated inside my head; my pulse quickened until I thought I was going to be sick. The doors loomed up in front of me like two colossal tombstones, cold to the touch—then a hand gripped my shoulder.

"This way, please, Ava." The voice was caring but professional. "Don't worry. They'll take good care of her."

All I could think was that it wasn't enough. I needed to be with her. I needed to see her. I had to know she was okay. Pushing the hand roughly off my shoulder, I turned back to the doors, but they were far out of reach. I ran towards them, but they seemed to creep away from me. I hurried on, but they only shrank away from me further as if they were at the end of a long tube being pulled in the opposite direction.

"Ava—" the voice came again. My heart was beating faster than it ever had and cold sweat trickled down my neck, but I was closing in on the door again. I could see the edges of the enormous operating lights through the window. My fingertips brushed the surface of the door—but the same hand held me back.

No! I turned to push the hand off, but nobody was there. Coldness swept through me like an autumn wind, and my insides twisted in discomfort as my hand dropped back by my side. I looked down at my shoulder, where I still felt the pressure of where someone had grasped me, and choked on my own scream. My shoulder was red with blood. Whose blood? Mine? Hers? I saw my palms were covered in blood, but my gaze was distracted and swept down my body. That's when I saw I was drenched in the sticky red substance. It soaked into my clothes in huge scarlet patches so that my hoody was sodden with it. It dripped from the end of my zip into a pool on the floor, onto my now red trainers. I gasped.

"No... get it off. Get it off me!" Sweat drenched my face as I tore at my clothes, then something cold clamped around my wrists.

"Ava!"

I opened my eyes and found myself on my bedroom floor with my dad holding my wrists. He stared down at me with concern, eyes puffy from sleep.

"Ava, you were just having a bad dream. You're safe, okay? You're safe now." He pulled me to my feet, gesturing for me to sit on the bed.

Climbing onto the bed, I clenched the bedsheets. They were cool under my hot palms, but it was the lingering feeling of blood soaked clothes that made me shiver. Why was there always so much blood? I swallowed hastily as my throat constricted with the bitter taste of bile. Had it been my blood or hers? Feeling the tears suddenly prick my eyes, I rubbed at my face to ward them off. Why did it always have the same effect on me?

"Was it the dream your Aunt Kate told me about?"

"She told you?" I asked, my hands dropping from my face. I looked at my dad in embarrassment, but was met by an earnest stare. My strength slipped immediately and I nodded silently.

I didn't bother to explain the dream to my dad, seeing as I had a hard-enough time attempting to explain it to myself. I tried to think myself out of feeling sick, but it was no use. It didn't help that the shakes had already started. Looking to my dad, I tried to gauge his reaction. He looked concerned—really concerned.