Shattered

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Mallory was dying, but it wasn't her life she was desperate to hold on to. It was the young one in her arms. The life she vowed to nurture and protect from the first moment she held him ten years earlier. A vow unraveling as each second passed. She spoke to him softly and tried in vain to stop the bleeding.

Time no longer existed beyond her counting his breaths and heartbeat. Mallory's body became cold and detached while her mind remained vibrant and cruel. It continued to scream to save him. To stand, to move, to stop his suffering, carry him to those who could help. But, her voice failed, her limbs limp, her head heavy. She clung to the light as long as she felt his warm breath on her face and the gentle thumping of his heart on her fingers.

Distant echoes of sirens promised hope, but as his already weak heartbeat slowly began to fade, she allowed herself to drift with it.

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