Protector (TFP)

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴇʟᴇᴠᴇɴ -ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴇᴀʀꜱ-

   The hallway, like the rest of the hospital, was devoid of any warmth or character, its fluorescent lights casting a harsh glare on the sterile walls. Maya sighed as she settled into her chair at the front desk, her fingers automatically finding their way to the bridge of her nose as she squeezed her eyes shut.

The transition from the dim, comforting darkness outside to the clinical brightness indoors felt jarring, almost abrasive to her senses, threatening to trigger one of her infamous migraines. Maya knew her break wasn't going to last more than another minute, but she tried her best to enjoy the few moments of attempted rest as much as she could.

The abrupt beep of her pager shattered the silence, and Maya groaned, reluctantly pushing herself to her feet. Her brows furrowed slightly as she glanced down at the pager, its insistent beeping summoning her to the trauma center. In an instant, the exhaustion that had weighed heavily on her dissipated, replaced by a surge of adrenaline as she hurriedly made her way through the corridors, her brown hair bouncing slightly in its bun with each determined stride.

As she burst through the double doors, the chaos of the hospital engulfed her, the cacophony of voices and blaring alarms assaulting her senses. The flashing lights from the ambulance outside engulfed the room with flashes of blue and red, and medical personnel rushed past her with bandages in hand. Amidst the flurry of activity, a team of nurses and technicians surrounded a gurney, hastily transferring a patient onto it.

Maya's training kicked in instinctively as she approached. "What do we have?" she inquired, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. But as she drew closer to the patient's side, a wave of horror washed over her, freezing her in place.

"Astra Keller, 16 years old, a stab wound to the abdomen," a nurse informed her, rattling off the critical details with practiced efficiency. "Blood pressure dropping, pulse weak." The nurse faltered as Maya remained unresponsive, her gaze fixed on the unconscious figure before her.

"Snap out of it, Doc. We have a patient!" The nurse's voice broke through Maya's stupor, jolting her back to reality. Shaking off her daze, Maya quickly composed herself, her mind already racing through the necessary steps.

"Let's get her hooked up to the monitors, start two large-bore IV lines, and grab the AB-negative blood from the blood bank," she directed, her tone authoritative and composed despite the terror twisting her gut.

The medical team sprang into action, but one nurse couldn't hide her confusion as she glanced at Maya. "How do you know the patient's blood type?" Maya's eyes hardened, her lips pressing into a thin line as she met the nurse's gaze.

"Because that's my daughter."

* * * * * *

The acrid smell of bleach clawed at my nostrils as I gradually regained consciousness. It stabbed through the fog of my mind, mingling with the antiseptic scent of disinfectant that hung heavy in the air. Slowly, I peeled my eyelids apart, wincing at the harsh brightness that greeted me, only further worsening the throbbing ache behind my temples.

What... what happened? As my senses sharpened, I took in the sterile room around me. The walls, painted a sickly shade of green, seemed to close in on me, suffocating in their lack of warmth. The incessant beeping of monitors filled the air like a relentless drumbeat, accompanied by the occasional shuffle of footsteps outside my room.

I'm in a hospital. My mind felt sluggish, as if my brain had become covered in fog as a wave or dizziness swept through me.

"Hey, sweetheart, you're awake," The sound of my mother's voice cut through the haze, drawing my attention to her familiar figure seated beside my bed. Her usually pristine bun had unraveled, stray tendrils framing her worn face. I was surprised to see she was not wearing her doctor's coat; instead, she was wearing civilian clothes.