THE PLANE HAD WENT bumpy for the second time now, and those who were sleeping had all stirred awake.
Lexie still had her head on Timothy's shoulder; Norah still had one side of Mark's arms hugging in hers.
"Hey, man, what's going on?" Mark raised his voice, hoping that the person piloting the plane would provide them with a reply.
After a smooth five minutes, the seatbelt sign above their heads dimmed off. A sound clicked at the back of the plane. Norah turned her head only to see her brother standing up from his seat, grabbing the headrest of the seats to hold himself steady.
"Tim, what the hell are you doing?" she bellowed. "Go sit back down!"
"It's a fucking turbulence, Nor, and the seatbelt light's off," he replied dully. "I'm just gonna make sure that the pilot isn't dead or something."
"Not funny."
"Never said it was."
She let out a scoff before sinking back into her seat. "Fucking turbulence," she muttered under her breath. She inhaled sharply when the plane started to bump again, her grip around his arm tightened; Mark held her closer to him, squeezing her leg reassuringly.
Unfortunately, reassurance did not last long.
At the fourth bump-it was no longer a bump. The plane was descending at an alarming rate, sending the eight surgeons to float up under the seatbelts.
Before Norah could shriek at the sound of a loud thud, followed by a loud yell, one side of the plane got ripped apart-her side of the plane got ripped apart.
At the next second, as though she felt like she had travelled into outer space, she got sucked out of her seat. Within a blink, Mark's arm was gone from her hold, and she was following the metal walls, gliding through the trees.
All she could remember was her sight filled with green-before everything went black.
She could not even hear his scream.
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"FUCKING HELL," TIMOTHY coughed from the smoke he inhaled, dragging himself up from his place near the engine.
Near the what now?
He squinted at the engine fan that was still spinning-barely-but it still turned with a smear of bright orange flames on it. There was a wheel not far above his head-the large wheel of an aeroplane.
Plane crash? Fucking plane crash?
"Le-Lexie? Lex?"
He staggered on his steps as he tried maintaining his balance. His head felt dizzy, and his vision was just as messed up as it could get. He could hazily recall what felt like mere minutes ago, where he got thrown off his feet on the plane and... Did I hit my head? Fuck.
The question was thrown away to the least of his worries when he heard the sound of metals hitting against each other.
CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-
The noise sent a throbbing pain in his head-
"H-Help... Help..."
-but the familiarity of the voice raised goosebumps throughout his body. He felt as though his entire body went stiff, and a sense of horror crept up the back of his neck. "L-Lexie...?"
He wasted no time hurrying towards the source of the sound, even though his head was close to killing him. He did not care about himself, never; he was not one to put himself in front of others.
But when he reached what looked like one part of the back of the plane, his legs gave out on him, and his knees dropped to the ground.
Under the wreck laid Lexie with an impaired seatbelt buckle that fell off her hand. The eyes he fell in love with were smiling back at him, her teeth faintly stained with her own faint blood.
"Lexie... O-Oh my god..."
"T-Timmy... Hi... I knew... you would f-find me..."
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MARK'S EYES FLEW WIDE open the second he heard a screaming sound coming from... somewhere. He carried his body up with a loud grunt escaping his mouth, his teeth gritting together.
"N-Norah?"
He could smell smoke coming from not far away, the ground beneath his feet was hard, and his ears were still ringing when he tried to blink the blurriness away from his eyes.
"Norah-where are you?!"
His hands hit the ground when he tripped over a thick branch on the soil. His arms were shaking, but he picked himself up once again.
The smell of the smoke was getting thicker, and the dark grey clouds were slowly fogging his approach. The ruins of the plane were scattered around... what seemed like in the middle of nowhere to him.
Is my chest hurting? I can't really... feel anything.
He saw a few faint figures from a distance, and he could vaguely make out the light blue scrubs they wore. The cries of a woman's scream grew louder every step he took closer to the wreck; how he prayed that she was the one screaming-that way he knew that she was alive.
"Norah, i-is that... is that you?"
It wasn't, however.
The screams were from Arizona, who was still partially stuck under a large piece of metal; the light blue scrubs were Meredith, Cristina, and Timothy, who was lying low on the ground.
Laurie, please be alive.
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NORAH BLINKED LIGHTLY-the brightness in front of her eyes were glaring. She coughed violently as her chest heaved up and down; her throat was dry. She thought she could hear someone shouting from a distance away-it would just be her mind playing games with her.
Slowly, one by one, she tried to move each of her limbs, each of her fingers and toes.
Good, I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay... right?
Mark-where's Mark?
"Mark?"
She pushed herself up from her lying position; the surface was rough under her touch. She had sprawled on top of a thick bark of tree trunk. Her hips did feel sore, though... maybe-she did not trust any of her senses at that moment.
"Mark!" she tried calling out again, but there was no response.
Fuck. Where is he? Where's Tim? Lexie? Where is everyone?
She stumbled down the trunk and landed on her feet that almost instantly giving out of her. "Bloody fucking hell," she muttered under her breath as she lifted herself up from the ground.
She felt something warm down the side of her leg and carefully lowered her eyes to it. "Right, of course, I have to be impaled by a bloody metal scrap," she laughed drily under her breath.
Humour as a coping mechanism? She was not fine at all.
She tore out a piece of her scrub pants on the other leg before clenching her teeth, locking her jaws tight. Steadily and carefully, she held the metal scrap in her hand and yanked it out, swearing under her breath as she exhaled shakily; that hurt way less than she expected. She quickly tied the torn fabric piece around and applied pressure on her wound.
I'll stitch it up later. Later-but was there a later? Funny, because she did not even know where she was.
We were in a plane crash. The side of the plane ripped away, and I saw myself getting sucked out.
That, she knew.
But how do I only have a metal scrap which I had easily removed and a few bruises here and there after being sucked out into god knows where?
Oh hell, did I just rhyme? Wrong fucking timing, Norah.
She swore she broke something elsewhere, but she could not figure where. Probably her back or something since she could faintly feel some pain... or is that just some weird muscle cramps?
This makes no sense. The world hates me, so this makes no sense.
The adrenaline shock coursing through her body was an immense frenzy.
"Mark? Tim?"
Still no response.
She was in the middle of nowhere. All alone. And she was begging for the tiniest amount of hope, but not for herself. It was for everyone else but herself.
Mark, please be alive.