He watched as she fell, as she tumbled toward the ground. He watched as she screwed her eyes shut in preparation of what was to come and spread her arms wide. The fear of helplessness encapsulated him, as although there was no hope in reaching her in time, he sprinted towards her falling form. The slap of his feet hitting the pavement became inaudible as his emotions heightened and his body numbed.
As she hit the pavement, he too felt the bitter touch of concrete. It was there he knelt, a salty brine forming on his cheeks, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. The horror of what he had witnessed replaying through his thoughts, encompassing them. The hero was not supposed to lose. The hero never loses.
It was then, after a couple of moments, that he opened his eyes. No longer was he greeted by the tragedy that befell upon him, instead he was faced with a hospital room. The smell of antiseptic and the stigmatic all to white walls assaulting his senses. Yet, the most concerning was the prone form lying before him. Pale brown hair strewed about, her eyes closed. Her skin appeared to take on a hue more closely related to that of an egg than the human he knew her to be. It was then that he noticed her lips, pale as her skin and unmoving. His eyes were met again with tears, as reality took hold. The hero had lost, his hero had lost. The villain, a mere accident, had seized the day, and he was too late to make a difference.
He moved closer to the bed, his body wracked with nerves. Shakily, he took her hand, encircling it in his own. It was then that he delicately, lifted the small thing to his lips, the coolness chilling his bones, and kissed her one last time. A sob escaping his lips as he did.
A hospital can be a place of great joy and great pain. Every day it experiences both birth and death. The reality is that not all those who enter are guaranteed to leave.
