Voices whirled all around me. They sounded distant.
"Are you sure she's still alive?"
"Yes, she's still alive. She has a heart rate mon-"
"Are you positive? The sooner we can get rid of the squishy, the better."
"Would you be quiet? I'm positive that she is alive. Must you question everything that I have to say?"
"Must you answer me with questions?"
"Must you?"
The voices were familiar, but I couldn't seem to put faces and names to them. All that I could tell was that I did know them. One of them I swore was the voice of Ratchet, though I couldn't be completely sure. He had one of those voices. One of those voices that you can sometimes confuse for others' voices.
"Leave me and her alone," the Ratchet-like voice growled.
If I would have had the strength, I would have opened my eyes. But it felt as though I had ran a marathon the day before, and my whole body was involved in that. My eyelids hurt. My arms hurt. My thighs hurt.
Most of all, my chest and head hurt. Those hurt the worst.
After a good pause, the other voices said in a soft tone, "Is she going to die?"
Another pause, this time from Ratchet. "... I'm afraid so, Ironhide."
'Ironhide' grunted softly, before I heard his footsteps start to echo, the sounds getting lighter and lighter.
Was Ratchet right? Am I going to die?
Will the good Lord finally take me away?