She Died at 18

Chapter 2

Tears refuse to stop flowing as I stand beside my father. There's nothing more agonizing than witnessing my father break down before me. It's as if my heart is being crushed, seeing him like this – exhausted, hungry, and unable to hold back his tears.

My hand rests on his shoulder, trembling as I try to offer comfort, but it feels like trying to stop a tidal wave with my bare hands. I can't bear the thought of leaving his side, as the idea of him being alone in this state is too much to bear.

Once again, I glance at the reflection in the ICU window, at the unconscious woman lying there. My heart shatters all over again as I lock eyes with that lifeless figure. My sobs intensify, echoing the ache in my chest. It's just so overwhelming – seeing myself in that hospital bed, motionless. It feels surreal, like a bad dream I can't wake up from. Maybe it's because I'm still struggling to come to terms with it. To see my father like this, and to know that I'm partly responsible.

I clench my fists, frustration and helplessness washing over me in waves. It's a whole new level of agony when you can witness everything but are powerless to change anything, no matter how much you want to.

Despite my father not being able to hear me, my sobbing grows louder. I keep whispering apologies over and over again, even though I know he can't hear me. Deep down, I'm aware that I can never bring back his happiness, wipe away his tears, or make everything okay again.

"Princess, please wake up for me... don't leave your Dad," my father's voice breaks as he gently taps the glass separating us in the ICU.

The doctor's words from yesterday play over in my mind, a painful reminder of my reality. I cried then, not because I was still trapped in this unconscious state, but because of the pain in my father's eyes. Between the two of us, he's the one bearing the weight of this situation, drowning in his worry and fear. The events of that night have left us both reeling, struggling to find our footing.

It's a mystery to me why I'm here, why I've been dealt this cruel twist of fate. To witness my father's suffering, his helplessness, is tearing me apart. If given the choice between fading away in this hospital bed or embracing the cold embrace of death, I'd choose the latter without hesitation.

In death, at least my father wouldn't have to endure this torment any longer. Just one final wave of tears, and he wouldn't have to suffer through sleepless nights by my bedside, waiting for a miracle that might never come.

I'm stuck in this limbo, my consciousness trapped while my body lies motionless. It's an eerie feeling, like a phone on the charger with no battery – utterly lifeless.

I take a deep, shaky breath as I tear my gaze away from my father, glancing at Antonia who approaches with an eco bag and a basket of fruits. She's crying too, and I can't help but roll my eyes at her dramatic display of emotion. It's as if she's trying to compete for who can cry the most.

I've never been particularly fond of Antonia, sensing an air of insincerity about her. She claims to be taking care of my father, but something doesn't quite add up.

"Thank you, Antonia. You can leave now," my father's voice is calm, yet there's an unmistakable firmness in his tone.

"But, Sir—"

"I need some time alone," my father's request is unwavering, finally prompting Antonia to place the food on a nearby chair and leave.

The rules of the ICU are strict – only immediate family members are allowed in. Given my current state, my father can't enter. If he were to breach the regulations, he'd need to don a mask, gown, and gloves – a necessary precaution for patient safety.

"Sir, I'm really sorry, but we can't allow that. It's hospital protocol," the nurse explains, halting the man at the doorway.

"But I'm her boyfriend," the desperation in his voice is evident.

"I apologize, Sir, but only immediate family members are permitted."

"I hope she's okay," Stef chimes in, her concern etched across her face.

Despite my dire circumstances, I manage a small, sad smile at my classmates gathered outside, bearing flowers and fruits.

"We were hoping to give these to her in person," Clyde, the Student Council President, laments as he sets down a basket of fruits in front of the nurse.

"Sorry, Sir. It's just hospital policy. I can deliver your gifts to the patient's family, if you'd like."

"That would be great," Clyde agrees, signaling to the others.

Another nurse arrives to help distribute the gifts brought by my classmates.

As the nurse is about to enter the ICU, a man in a police uniform intervenes, inquiring about my father. He needs to speak to him urgently. The nurse understands the need for privacy, instructs him to sanitize his hands, and allows him entry.

He approaches my father, who wipes away his tears.

"Good afternoon, Sir. I'm SPO4 Dantes, the lead officer handling your daughter's case," he introduces himself, extending his hand.

"How's the investigation going? Are you any closer to catching the person responsible for my daughter's condition?"

"Sir, based on the forensic exam, we've managed to collect fingerprints from various locations in the room. Furthermore, we found a fingerprint on the knife that was used. However, we do need something from you, Sir, for the cross-examination of everyone present at the party."

My heart freezes as his words sink in. The truth hits me like a ton of bricks – someone deliberately tried to end my life.