The Neighbor

Chapter 50

"Please, please be okay," she sobs loudly to herself, her voice breaking with each word. "Please, don't take them away from me."

The relentless scream of the siren is a brutal reminder of the dire situation, its piercing wail slicing through the stillness of the night and driving straight into her soul. It feels like a waking nightmare, every second stretching into an agonizing eternity as she chases the ambulance down the deserted streets. The flashing lights reflect off the surrounding buildings, casting long, eerie shadows that twist and flicker at the edge of her vision.

Her mind is a whirlwind of fear and dread, each thought more harrowing than the last. She can't stop picturing you in excruciating pain, the terror in your eyes, and the overwhelming helplessness she felt as the paramedics whisked you away. The haunting image of you clutching your abdomen, pleading desperately for the safety of your baby, is seared into her memory. "Please, don't let them die," she sobs, her voice a raw cry of desperation and heartbreak.

The cold seeps into the car, undeterred by the heater, chilling her to the bone. Her tears stream down her face, blurring her vision as she navigates the treacherous, snow covered streets. Her hands tremble violently on the steering wheel, her grip tightening as if to anchor herself in the chaos. Snowflakes whip past the windshield, caught in the ambulance's tail lights, creating a disorienting, surreal flurry that only amplifies her sense of panic.

"Please!" she begs, her voice a desperate plea to anyone who might be listening. The words echo through the confined space of the SUV, mingling with the rhythmic thrum of the engine and the piercing wail of the siren ahead.

As the hospital looms into view, the ambulance screeches into the emergency bay, tires skidding violently on the slick pavement. Wanda's SUV hurtles in behind, swerving sharply. Her hands tremble on the wheel, knuckles white with tension. The vehicle lurches to a halt, tires scraping the ground as she slams it into park. She flings the door open, the sound a resounding bang against the cold night air. She slams the door shut behind her with a heavy thud that reverberates through the parking lot. Ignoring the chill, she races towards the ambulance, her heart a frantic drumbeat in her chest.

"Hey! You can't park there!" a woman shouts from across the lot, her voice sharp with authority, but Wanda is already charging past, her eyes locked on the ambulance. The woman's voice fades into the background, a mere distraction compared to the urgency pulsing through Wanda's veins.

Wanda sprints from the parking lot, her breath ragged, each inhale a sharp stab in the cold air. She spots the ambulance bay, but a crowd of people, onlookers, and hospital visitors block her path as they head towards the main entrance of the emergency room. Faces blur in her vision, their concern and curiosity insignificant against the panic driving her forward.

She barrels into the crowd, her body a whirlwind of motion. She brushes past a man in a brown coat, almost knocking him off balance. "Watch it!" he exclaims, but Wanda doesn't register his words. Her shoulder clips a woman, sending her stumbling. Wanda's hands push and shove, each contact a brief, tactile assault—the rough texture of a coat, the soft give of flesh, the startled gasps and exclamations of those she displaces. A nurse tries to direct her elsewhere, but Wanda shoves her aside, her single minded focus on reaching you driving her forward, each step a desperate surge against the tide of obstacles.

As she nears the ambulance bay, the chaotic scene comes into focus. The paramedics are scattered around you, their movements swift and purposeful. Wanda's heart seizes at the sight of your pale face under the oxygen mask, eyes shut in pain. She can hear your faint cries, the sound slicing through the night air, tearing at her soul. The steady beep of medical equipment, the rustle of the stretcher's wheels, the sterile smell of the hospital environment—all of it heightens her sense of dread.