Eternally Yours

14. I'll do it

Hana shuffled down the brightly colored hallway of the pediatric ward, a familiar pang tugging at her heartstrings. Everywhere she looked, children with bandaged limbs and flushed cheeks chased each other with infectious laughter, their youthful resilience a stark contrast to their ailments.

The infectious laughter of children filled the air, a stark contrast to the beeps and whirs of the monitoring equipment lining the walls. Here, injuries were met with teddy bear bandages and scraped knees with superhero-themed stickers.

A young girl in a pink cast grinned at Hana as she took her temperature, a half-eaten apple clutched in her hand. The air buzzed with the sweet chatter of children excitedly talking about the upcoming story time.

Suddenly, a sharp sound cut through the cheerful commotion. A choking cough erupted from one corner of the ward, shattering the carefree atmosphere. Hana's heart lurched. A young boy, no older than five, doubled over on his bed, his face turning a frightening shade of blue. His friends, oblivious to the severity of the situation, giggled, thinking it was just another game.

"Come on, Ethan! You're not fooling anyone!" one boy chortled, reaching for a stray grape on his tray.

"Ethan, are you okay?" another called out, a hint of concern creeping into his voice.

But Ethan's only response was a strangled groan, a desperate sound that sent chills down Hana's spine. Panic clawed at her throat, a sickening echo of her own past mistakes.

Hana's mind raced.

Her hands, just moments ago steady as she checked temperatures, now trembled violently. She had just removed her gloves from Lily's bedside. Shame burned in her cheeks as she fumbled for a new pair, her fingers betraying her in this critical moment.

"He's not playing anymore, Nurse Hana!" one boy cried, tears welling up in his eyes. "Ethan won't answer us!"

Her first instinct was to retreat, to find someone more experienced to handle the situation. Memories came crashing back in vivid flashes - a scared 5-year-old Mira wheezing for air, lips turning blue as Hana watched helplessly.

But then, the image of Ethan, his face turning a frightening shade of blue, snapped her out of her paralysis. Not again. She couldn't just stand by again.

The emergency button clicked with a sharp finality under her frantic finger. The sterile white of the ceiling blurred at the edges as a wave of nausea threatened to engulf her. Fear was a cold fist clenching her stomach, but it wasn't enough to stop her. Gloves or not, there was no time for hesitation.

Hana knelt beside the boy, her voice calm despite the tremor running through her. "Hey, Ethan, can you hear me?" she asked, her voice shaky. The boy's eyes, wide with terror, flickered towards her.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Hana willed back the onslaught of fragmented visions exploding behind her lids.

Taking a deep breath, Hana pushed past her fear. Her mind, a whirlwind of instructions, focused on the rhythm, the count.

One, two, three – a sharp thrust into his abdomen.

Repeat.

The seconds stretched into agonizing eternity. Doubt, visions and fear, flashed before her eyes. Her knees hurt against the hard, cold tile but she kept pushing.

Again his future flickered through her mind's eye, this time intersecting with agonizing memories of Mira's rasping struggles all those years ago. The little girl who had been her entire world, battling for each aching breath.

"Not this time...you're not leaving me, Mira!" The words burst unconsciously from Hana's lips as she bear-hugged the choking child, compressing his diaphragm over and over.