Between Us

Chapter 54 : The Final Illusion

Pichy's pov (flashback)

As I sprinted down the hospital corridor, the fluorescent lights blurring overhead, a sinking feeling twisted my stomach. I'd been paged for an emergency, and the urgency in the message left no doubt—something was seriously wrong. But nothing could've prepared me for what I saw when I turned the corner.

There she was, Engfa, lying on a stretcher, pale as death, blood staining her shirt, a team of doctors and nurses frantically wheeling her down the hall. My heart lurched in my chest. This wasn't just any patient; this was Engfa, and she looked... lifeless.

I rushed to keep pace with the stretcher, glancing around at the other doctors, trying to get a grip on what was happening. One of the nurses filled me in as we ran. "Gunshot wound to the chest," she said, barely able to meet my eyes. "She was declared dead on the scene, but... there might still be a chance. The EMTs said they managed to detect faint cardiac activity just before they lost her pulse again."

"She's coded twice already," another doctor chimed in, his voice steady but grim. "If we can stabilize her quickly enough, there might be a slim chance of reviving her, but we're losing time."

I swallowed hard, trying to shake off the terror clawing at me. "Do we have a plan? How are her vitals?"

One of the residents, glancing at the monitors attached to Engfa, said quickly, "Nonexistent. BP's flatlined, no pulse detected since we lost it in the ambulance. We'll need to get a rhythm, any rhythm, if we're going to save her."

The stretcher crashed through the emergency doors, and we poured into the trauma room, each of us taking our positions. I kept close to Engfa, my hands trembling slightly as I mentally recited every step of the protocol, every technique, every possibility we had to pull her back.

"Prepare for defibrillation," someone called, and the paddles appeared in seconds.

The trauma room was a whirl of noise and movement. I forced myself to focus, shoving down the panic clawing at the edges of my mind. This was Engfa, but she needed me now as her doctor, not her friend.

"Charge to 200 joules," one of the doctors ordered. A nurse handed over the paddles, and with a quick nod, we all stepped back.

"Clear!"

The jolt of electricity surged through Engfa's body, lifting her slightly off the stretcher before she settled back down. We all stared at the monitor, waiting, hoping for some flicker of a heartbeat. The flat line stayed stubborn, unwavering.

"Nothing," the resident muttered, his tone defeated.

"Again," I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. "Charge to 300."

The paddles delivered another shock, and once again, her body jumped in response. I held my breath, eyes fixed on the screen, willing her heart to respond.

"Come on, Engfa," I whispered under my breath.

A brief blip flashed on the monitor, faint, but unmistakable—a flicker of hope. The room stilled for a beat, everyone watching. The line fell flat again, but the brief flash was enough to renew our efforts.

"Push another dose of epinephrine," I ordered, looking to the nurse who immediately drew up the syringe. She injected it straight into Engfa's IV, and I watched the medicine flow down, hoping it would make a difference. Every second counted.

Another doctor began compressions, pushing down rhythmically on Engfa's chest. The relentless pressure was necessary but brutal; I could practically hear her ribs straining under the force. But we couldn't stop.

After what felt like forever, we gave her one more shock. The silence was suffocating as we all stared at the monitor.

And then, there it was—a steady blip, slow but present. Her heart rate was faint but holding. Relief washed over me, and I could hear the team around me releasing breaths they'd been holding.