mercedes. wake up.
...i can't..
"she's not breathing!"
yes i am..
"help them! help my babies!"
aunt krysti..?
"oh my god, brigita! brigita, stay with me!"
brigita..brigita? is she okay....?
"mercey? hey hey, it's me, clara. you're gonna be okay, right? you're not gonna leave us, okay?"
i--
"ma'am, please don't touch the patients."
"they're my BABIES! let me go!"
"..mercedes! brigita! please be--"
- simply and utterly one hour earlier -
dark.
there's only dark.
why can't i see?
i hear a buzzing.
what happened?
a cough echoes through my ears and i slowly realize it's my own. it hurts to exist.
i try to open my eyes but my vision is soft and cloudy. where is brigita?
i take a whiff of the air and gassy smoke fills my already clogged lungs. i pull myself up and my chest aches and burns fiercely. my shoulder ripples in pain and i glance to see it out of place. i try to ignore the vile sight by thinking of how much it hurts.
it hurts, but i move. i scan for brigita.
i notice a speck of milky white hair flowing gently against the harsh wind. leading up to her is a trail of splattered blood and i flinch in horror. i manage to wobble onto my feet and i run -- more like a pathetic trot -- towards her limp body and slump beside her.
her legs are mangled under piles of metal and hot car parts.
i push a strand of hair out of her face to look at her. her face is bruised and exhausted and in pain. we won't last long and i'd never forgive myself if brigita doesn't make it out of this.
looking around, i see scattered bits of glass and a spark of hope gleams slightly in my weeping soul. i crawl, my chest agonizing and my shoulder unwilling to move. i swipe at the shards of glass, pricking and slicing my fingers.
but i see my phone.
how it isn't completely destroyed eludes me, but i don't care. i shakily pick it up, swiping it on with one hand. my hands and shoulders are numb with pain but i manage to dial 124. my eyelids shake in exhaustion.
"124, what's your emergency?" a voice answers- male, early 30's.
"please..brigita..." i muster, flopping slowly onto my side and wincing. "please help--"
and then there was
nothing.
Author Notes: if you enjoy this, i'll make it into a series. it's called ''and it said.''
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