Bring Her Home

Nura

She was drifting.

No, not drifting. She was drowning in a haze of viscous fog that hung in aerial darkness, and a pool of glass. All she could hear was the agitated sea that had seeped into her mind and a shrill ringing from the heart monitor across from her. The lines carelessly traveled across the screen, as the beeping grew louder, letting her know she was alive. Then, as seconds went by, she could make out noises—the nurses laughing at the station and the sound of their squeaky sneakers on the floor, the rush of the pneumatic tubes sending blood back and forth from the lab and the rhythmic beeping of someone rolling over onto an IV.

She was familiar with the sounds, the smell, and the sickly people suffering through varying degrees of misery and pain. It was funny to her how that place had become so familiar so quickly, her very own place of seclusion. She drowned again, recalling the taste of the sea, how salty it had been, burning her throat with each sip. Beads of sweat formed on her scalp as it did when she was nervous, soon to pour down her brow and neck.

She coughed and felt her hand squeezed. Who was it? Her body tensed further, shivering beneath their touch. Then another hand took hers and spoke in a soothing voice. Mama? She was supplicating something repeatedly. 'The baby's alright...you're both going to be alright.' Nura flexed her fingers, willing her blood to recirculate to him. She knew that the baby was—

Her mind slipped out of her. It brushed up against the ceiling so she could see herself from above. She could only envision herself breathless, her heart racing against the crushing weight of her lungs as she drove her claws deeper than ever into the heart of the sea. Sheer panic skittered through her aching head while claustrophobia wrapped its arms tightly around her constricted chest, as she sunk deeper below. She tried taking a deep breath for them. But it was too late; they were both gone.