• “Panels… Charging…”

    Several high-pitched beeps in the background.

    “Charged!”

    “Clear!”

    With power, unbeknownst to the beholder, coursing through two frail arms, the two metal paddles slammed together to greaten the charge before they were forced onto the patient’s chest with an equal amount of force.

    “Still in defib.”

    “Again!” The woman’s clear voice rang above the nurses in the room.

    “It’s been nearly twenty minutes, Doc—“

    “I. Don’t. Care. Again!”

    “Charging.”

    That clear beep rang through the room once again.

    “Charged.”

    “Clear!”

    Her voice was a scream this time.

    Once again, the paddles met in a sound that rang clearly to the hospital staff’s ears. Once the metal met the patient, they all gazed on as the lifeless body seized with a moment’s life before dying out.

    The monotonous ring in the background remained.

    “Time of death: twenty-one fifty-six.” One of the nurses called, checking the clock on the back of the Operating Room wall.

    The world came to a halt. The ringing of the heart monitor trickled away to a distant flutter, the tone like a death sentence to the woman. A sterile blue headdress pulled away charcoal bangs from her pained purple eyes as a sweat stained brow lowered itself onto the patient’s bed. Time seemed to stretch on in that one instant. As her whole body seemed to be leeched of its precious life, it crippled forward and seemed to depend completely on the hospital gurney for support.

    “Time of death confirmed: twenty-one fifty-six.”

    Lilia lifted her head and straightened her stature. Removing the hospital-protocol surgery net from around her hair, she peeled off the bloody gloves immediately after. Stepping away from the patient and into the Surgery Preparation room, the world died away. The nurses had already begun peeling away the smock, and wiping away the blood smeared on her cheeks.

    It was nothing.

    Running a lotion-softened hand through her hair, she pushed open the swinging doors that lead her out to the waiting room where a frantic son sat. Two nurses flanking her, she approached the silent son with a blank expression.

    “There was… a complication during the surgery,” She took a breath, looking up from the man’s shoes to his face as he stood. “Your mother was very weak.; the stress of surgery was just too much for her to bear—“ his face started to turn red… “—we did our best, with twenty minutes of CPR—“ redder still… this wasn’t very good. “—And with your race, the disease was more likely to take a harder to—“

    A dark fist collided with the side of her jaw.

    “This has NOTHING to do with who we are! You white people always trying to keep us down!”

    There was a distant murmur beyond that, that she didn’t bother to catch… Once her frail form clattered to the ground she gave up on deciphering the world… It wasn’t worth it, for this much pain.

    People shouldn’t have to hurt for a world that was so uncaring.

    Hands flooded over her at once. Someone had shouted for security, but she hardly noticed. She didn’t care anymore.

    Using the flood of nurses and fellow doctors she pulled herself to her feet and nodded, “... M'fine.” She waved hands at them and shooed them all away, hoping they’d leave. “'M checkin' out”

    Naught five minutes, and she was sliding into her onyx Eclipse convertible, revving the engine, and speeding out of the parking lot towards the exit… any exit.

    Not another ten minutes, and she pulled silently into the driveway, shuffled up to the front door and stepped inside…

    The TV was running, the mayo, bread, and several different species of lunchmeat were strewn across the kitchen counters… But she still didn’t care.

    She proceeded forward, dropping her keys on the marble counter next to an overlooked bottle of mustard, and continued on towards the white-carpeted hallway and eventually to her bedroom. Her black heels ached at her feet, but she didn’t bother with removing them… Even that action was too much to evoke from her fingertips.

    With one side of her mouth bruised and swollen, she crawled up onto the white down comforter and let herself collapse on her side.

    Will finally settled in front of her, arms embracing and kind. His chin rested on the top of her head, one hand sliding up into her hair and the other caressing the small of her back. Silence reigned.

    “Would you still love me…--“ The next few words that itched across her lips would’ve been, “If I murdered a woman.” But they died away. “--…No matter what?”

    He didn’t hesitate.

    “Yes.”