SOUL

hospital

The sirens cut through the cold night air, blaring as the ambulance sped toward the hospital. Leo was hunched over in the back, clutching Mary's hand, his knuckles white, his heart thundering in his chest. Her skin was so cold, her breathing shallow, and he could barely recognize her under the oxygen mask and bandages. Blood had soaked through her clothes, staining everything dark red.

"she's not breathing!" Leo snaps "Do something!"

One of the paramedics looked at him, his expression grim but calm. "Sir, you need to give her space. We're doing everything we can, but you have to let us work."

Leo didn't move, his mind a blur of fear and desperation. "Help her," he whispered, his voice breaking. "You have to save her. You have to."

The paramedic's expression softened, but he didn't hesitate. "We're doing our best. Just stay back."

Leo let go, but only barely, his hands shaking as he hovered just out of the way, eyes fixed on Mary. It felt like the world was crumbling around him, the darkness pressing in from all sides. Every second that passed felt like a lifetime, and then—just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore—he heard it. The soft, steady beep of the heart monitor.

Her pulse had returned.

His legs gave out, and he sank to his knees, his head dropping into his hands. He sobbed, shoulders shaking, all the tension and fear pouring out of him. "Thank you," he gasped, over and over, his voice raw. "Thank you."

But the relief was short-lived. One of the paramedics, adjusting an IV line, glanced at him with a serious expression. "She's stable, but she's not out of danger. There's a lot of internal bleeding, and her blood pressure's low. She needs surgery, fast. We're taking her straight to the OR."

Leo nodded, unable to find the words. He barely registered the rest of the ride, his eyes locked on Mary, willing her to hold on. When they reached the hospital, everything was a blur of activity—doctors and nurses swarming around the stretcher, shouting orders, and then she was gone, whisked away through a set of swinging doors.

Leo was left standing there, numb, the echo of those doors slamming shut ringing in his ears. Her blood was still on his hands, sticky and warm, and he felt like he was trapped in some horrible dream he couldn't wake up from. He looked down, staring at his stained hands, and something inside him snapped. He stumbled toward the nearest bathroom, pushed the door open, and turned on the sink, scrubbing at the blood until his skin was raw.

But it wouldn't come off. No matter how hard he scrubbed, it was still there, tainting everything, reminding him of how close he'd come to losing her. He gripped the edge of the sink, his breathing ragged, and raised his head to look in the mirror.

And then he saw her.

His mother, Adamma, was standing behind him, her reflection clear and bright, even though he knew she shouldn't be there. She looked almost exactly the same—warm eyes, gentle smile—but there was something different, a kind of sadness lingering around her edges.

"Mom?" His voice was barely a whisper, choked with disbelief. "Is it really you?"

"It's me, baby," she said, her voice soft and soothing. "I'm here."

Leo's breath hitched, and he turned to face her, his heart breaking all over again. "I— I thought I was going to lose her. I almost didn't get there in time. If she dies, I don't know what I'll do."

Adamma stepped closer, her expression full of sympathy, but there was a firmness there, too—a quiet strength. "You got there, Leo. That's what matters."

"But I couldn't stop him from hurting her," he said, his voice cracking. "I couldn't— I wasn't enough."

Adamma's face softened, and she reached out as if to touch his cheek, though he could only feel a faint, ghostly warmth. "You're more than enough, Leo. You always have been. You did everything you could, and you saved her. You have to hold on to that."