“I wonder where she is…”

Heaven feigns a loud sigh and blows out a dramatic breath, making the curls spilling over her face to fly forward before tossing down against her cheek. She pushes back a tendril and tucks it behind her ear. Shrugging and another feigned exhale accompany the way she looks at her nails. Short, almond, painted the perfect shade of white that matches the loose dress with flowy sleeves, a cinched waist, and brushes the top of her knees.

“I guess I won’t be able to find her…”

Her intentional announcement is accompanied by the way she carefully, slowly, and methodically takes step by step, the blades of forest green grass tickling the portion of skin exposed on her feet from her sandals. “I can’t believe she really beat me….” Continuing to lean into the performance, it’s only when she catches the the glimpse of an arm with a complexion several shades lighter than the tree she hides behind that Heaven makes her grand reveal.

“There she is!” 

The shout comes seconds after Heaven jumps forward and attempts to grab her. Happy, loud giggles as she breaks free from Heaven’s loose hold and starts to run away. Her little legs only taking her so far before Heaven grabs her again, this time the two of them falling into the ground.

The pasture absorbs their bodies like a memory foam pillow, molding around the curves of Heaven’s body as the little girl lays on top of her and continues to laugh happily from the way Heaven playfully tickles.

“You found me!” 

“I did,” Heaven’s smile deepens, her eyes narrowing from the fleeting glimpses of sun that rains down on her, peaking through the head of dark curls every time she writhes and wiggles from the tickle session.

It’s when she rolls over, however, and Heaven can feel the full strength of the sun that her smile settles, her shoulders sink deeper into the grass, and her eyes shut. There aren’t enough words to adequately describe the level of…peace she feels in this moment. The sun is bright but the heat is almost nonexistent. The aroma of fresh flowers that don’t crush under her weight but instead bow almost in reverence around their bodies. Faint whistles and swishing sounds of the wind brushing against the most beautiful example of God’s finest work that Heaven has ever seen.

Never an outside person, there’s nothing that she can list off as a con for the space that feels less like a pasture and more like a safe haven.

Rolls and valleys of endless greenery and forestry. There’s an aura that feels almost too good to be real. Like it contains and conveys a level of peace that defies and contrasts reality and what exists in the realm of capabilities. 

Heaven feels so….light.

She feels free.

The sort of free that one prays for but rarely ever achieves. 

At least….not in this life.

The laughter once more draws her focus as mischief flashes in her pretty eyes before she jumps up and starts to run off once more. Heaven’s smile deepens as she too sits up and starts to give chase when she stops. Turns her head just enough to where the breeze brushes past her hair, whipping it against her face as her brows start to cave inward and the smile falters.

Something…..

Something’s not right.

She continues to turn around, the peace that encompassed is now one that unsettles. It’s all so perfect. Too perfect.

And then she hears it. Hears the sound that makes her entire body still and toes dig into the ground that suddenly feels impossibly softer than before. As if it's adapted. As if it’s molding itself to her feet to keep her planted when her knees begin to wobble and balance falters. 

Giggles. 

That of a child. A little girl.

And not the one a few feet away.

“Macy…” 

Heaven turns around, eyes foraging the vast plains as if trying to seek out the voice. Seek her.

She starts to step forward when a small tug on her dress forces her to turn around. Heaven looks down to see the little girl staring up at her with that same gaze of excitement and with that happy smile that reveals a top and bottom row of small, perfectly straight, white teeth. Impossibly white, almost.

A recurring theme of this place, it seems.

Impossibility.

Releasing the fabric, she instead makes a beckoning motion with her fingers before reaching for Heaven’s hand, all five wrapping around and giving a light squeeze. 

It’s a grasp that the older woman allows, but it’s the extent of permission granted as Heaven plants her feet in the ground. The crumble of the young girl’s smile evokes a heavy lump in the back of Heaven's throat and births a weight that sits on her chest. Anchors her body down both physically and metaphorically, as she drops to her knees, hands to the child’s shoulders. 

She swallows, feeling that familiar burning sensation that’s intensified by the way the sun beams down on her. “You are an amazing little girl, sweetie.” Words that comes from a place she can’t identify, but it’s a place that feels familiar. Natural. Innate. “But I know another amazing little girl, and she needs me. She—she needs me more than you do.”

And Heaven needs her. Perhaps more than the other way around.

It’s a realization spurned simply from the sound of her daughter’s laughter. One of the best sounds in the world, and one that she can’t push from her head. Hears on repeat at a volume that feels like it only knows increase. 

But the space reserved for her sweet Macy is shared with concern for this girl in front of her who reminds her so much of her daughter. Heaven expects the disappointment that flashes in her eyes, but it’s when she briefly breaks away that the guilt forms. 

“Honey—”

Heaven stops when she realizes the girl isn’t going far. Just quickly scuffles a few feet away to a strip of flowers and picks two before quietly returning to Heaven who observes them with marvel and curiosity. It’s such a strange variation of which she’s never seen before. A crossbreed of roses and tulips. 

One pink and one blue.

But the curiosity travels when the girl reaches with her free hand and pushes past the swell of the material to touch Heaven’s stomach. It’s a touch that makes her gasp from the memory that instantly slams into her.

The baby…

For the first time since awaking in this sort of paradise, dread begins to seep in. But it’s momentarily paused when she watches the girl’s smile revive as she lifts her eyes to meet Heaven’s and offers the flowers that are easily and naturally accepted. Even as the confusion remains. 

“I don’t….” She stumbles. “I don’t und—”

Her small fingers rubbing gently against Heaven’s belly as she drops her eyes once more before lifting them and nodding happily. But once more, another unexpected act when the child lunges forward and hugs her.

Heaven’s shoulders instantly relax, the flowers still gripped in her hand as she returns the embrace. She closes her eyes, another wave of ardent emotion overtaking her. A sense of despondency and regret.

Like she doesn’t want to do this.

Like she doesn’t want to leave.

Like she doesn’t want to leave this little girl. Because leaving her almost feels like….it feels like she’s leaving Macy. 

But she’s not. She’s leaving her because of Macy.

So why does it feel like there isn’t much of a difference?

If any.

“It’s okay.” Heaven gasps as the child breaks her silence. Her small voice, light and pure, sounding and reminding her so much of Macy. “And it’s okay you didn’t keep me. I know you wanted to.” The quietest intake of breath is followed by the way Heaven's eyes shoot open, electricity dancing up her spine. Her fingers both somehow tingling and numb concurrently. 

What….what did she just say?

The little girl presses her body closer, as if wanting to mold the two of them together, to soak in and capture this moment as much as she possibly can. 

To never forget.

“Bye, mommy.” 

——————

A multitude of senses are triggered almost immediately and simultaneously, but the first thing that Heaven can detect in this new realm of consciousness are the sounds. A variety of them, most of which are sounded out by a consistent, regulated beep that’s both familiar and disconcerting. That discomfort is exacerbated by the way she struggles to open her eyes, several flutters and focused efforts needed to lift and maintain. An uphill battle similar to that of pushing a large boulder up the steep heel of setbacks but one she overcomes and largely because of the new sound that’s added to her immediate environment. 

“Heaven?”

Another familiar sound that's partially drowned out in the midst of Heaven also becoming more aware of her surrounding. The sounds. The sterile, non-existent smell in the room. The heaviness of her body and cool, foreign sensations up and down her arms. A throbbing one near her right shoulder. She manages a deep breath through her still closed mouth when the view of the still slightly blurred television is replaced with a set of eyes similar to her own.

Her mom’s.

“Oh, thank God.” Heaven groans lowly as her mother reaches to caress the top of her head, watery eyes locked on her. “My beautiful girl.”

Blinking several times over, Heaven continues to work to reach the point where she can communicate, but the grogginess is consistent and persistent. Awareness intermittent, to a certain extent. Enough to where she hears and sees the way her mother briefly turns her head and calls for a nurse before she’s focused on her daughter once more. “Heaven, do you know where you are?”

Heaven offers a small nod, and it might be the easiest thing she’s done. A hospital. She’s in a hospital. 

But why?

And because Shelia Jackson is nothing short of sharp—if not psychic—she reads the question that doesn’t even need to be asked. 

“Honey….” Heaven observes the subtle motion in the middle of her mother’s neck, a small bulge forming and disappearing. A swallow. A deep one. “You were attacked—”

Perhaps additional words follow the word ‘attacked,’ but it’s all incoherent mush that’s barely audible amidst the rush of memories that slam into Heaven with enough force to send her back if she wasn’t already lying down.

The fire.

Macy. 

Jey.

The hotel.

Roman.

Macy. 

Whatever time has passed since her entire world began to crumble before her very eyes is suddenly filled with horrifying remembrance of what initially brought her to the hospital. 

And she doesn’t mean her own admission.

“Macy,” Heaven croaks, a sting in the back of her throat as she forces herself to speak for what must be the first time in—how long has she been asleep? “Where—where’s Macy?”

An attempt to sit up brings about a sharp, sudden pain in her shoulder as Shelia drops her hand to Heaven’s forearm.

“Careful, baby. You—” She stops, Heaven’s furrowed brows lifting to meet her mother’s eyes once more. “You were shot.”

Once more, a stillness that halts her movements and attempted efforts at answers. Heaven….remembers it. Remembers being at the hotel, at hearing a knock at the door, expecting to see the woman in front of her on the other side. 

It wasn’t.

It was someone else she thought she knew. Someone she thought she loved. And maybe she did. But whatever love existed for the man she’s spent the better part of her life with died the moment he left her baby inside that burning building.

And once more, Heaven casts aside any thoughts and considerations for herself. She can work through that later. 

She needs to get to her daughter.

She needs to get to Macy. 

Heaven attempts to snatch her arm away from her mom, ignoring the stinging sensation of the IV in her arm shifting from the sudden movements. Shelia presses her lips together as Heaven continues to find her voice. “Where’s Macy?” 

Shelia opens her mouth, her own sympathetic expression unchanging when rushed footsteps draws the focus of both mother and daughter. Shelia straightens as Heaven remains steadfast in her efforts to, one, get up, and two, get up to find her daughter. Regardless of the nurses and doctor moving towards her.

The doctor, an older man with a balding head and crows eyes but a seemingly genuine disposition, steps closer. His voice calm and soothing. “Mrs. Uso—”

“I want to see my daughter,” she interrupts, uncaring of feigning pleasantries for the sake of it. Being nice and displaying manners is the last fucking thing on her mind. “Where—”

An additional set of hands and the feeling of being surrounded and overwhelmed heighten Heaven’s anxiety, as words and fragmented sentences continue to float in and out.

“….bullet missed the heart and lungs….”

“………significant blood loss…..”

“……hemorrhagic shock……”

“………..emergency surgery….....”

“……,…babies are stable….....”

“……..two days……”

All of it is relevant information, of that, Heaven is certain, but it’s the last portion of shared information that sticks with her and answers just one of her many questions. One that is near the top of the importance list.

“Two days?” She breathes, realizing only then on top of administering information as the nurses inspected her, he was also asking her a set of basic questions she’d apparently answered in the midst of growing internal panic. “I—I’ve been out for two days?”

Shelia, standing closely, hand on the railing of the hospital bed, opens her mouth to speak but is interrupted by her daughter once more as another realization returns to Heaven.

“Macy….we—we’re supposed—supposed to know—” She shakes her head, ignoring the rising level of physical pain and discomfort in her body and face as certain facial motions evoke a stinging, throbbing sensation in her cheek. “Where’s Macy!” 

Because Heaven remembers. Recalls the conversation with Macy’s medical team. If she’s been unconscious for two days now, then that means it’s either time or close to the time where they should have a better understanding of Macy’s status.

If she sustained any brain damage. 

And if so….how severe.

Determination and resilience sometimes result in success, as is the case when Heaven finally manages to sway the doctor. Her mother’s cosign in the form of a whispered statement to the doctor also being a helpful additive. If the situation were different, Heaven would perhaps press on what was said, but it’s inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. 

The only thing that Heaven cares about, the only thing that matters, is seeing her baby girl.

That’s it.

It’s what remains the constant in the back, front, and all over her mind as she’s helped out of the bed and into a wheelchair that’s brought in a few minutes later. The journey from her room to the pediatric ward of the ICU includes the accompanying of her mother, two nurses, one who pushes her in the wheelchair and the other who guides the IV pole. Assisted ambulation eventually guiding Heaven to her destination. 

Energy shifts the minute she’s wheeled into the room as if making way and place for her arrival. Dread rebuilds and returns with a startling vengeance as the discomfort that’s floated through her body in a variety of ways since her return to consciousness is no longer germane in place of a greater calamity. The room, roughly the same size as the one she was excerpted from, suddenly feels so much smaller with the congregation of bodies. White coats. Scrubs. Machines galore making the same sounds she awoke to. All surrounding the bed to where the only thing she can make out is the thin, white sheets, faint outline of short legs, and slightly elevated feet. Hushed whispers and a set of eyes that land on her, wearing a variety of expressions. But it’s two in particular that capture her focus longer than the rest, that briefly distract her from attempts to obtain a better view of her baby.

“Heaven….”

Roman is the first to speak, Nathan only a few feet away, but Heaven locks gazes with the elder of the two, and her stomach twists into an abundance of knots. Flashes of their last interaction—the hotel, Jey, the gun—once more another flood of memories. Ones that she briefly remembered when she came to but shoved aside for the sake of her child. But only a few feet away from the man whose last statements to her were ones of disgust and hurt is another story. She can’t look way nor can she ignore how…..tired exhausted he looks. Deep, dark bags under his eyes. Frizzy hair lazily pulled back unlike the neat but he’s always ensured to perfect before leaving the house. Even his attire, the wrinkled fabric of his shirt and sweat pants, visibly thrown on in haste and with little regard for appearance, it’s so….unlike him. But it makes all the sense. 

He’s exhausted. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. Truth be told, Heaven wouldn’t be surprised if he’s simply a reflection of herself with marginal differences.

Roman steps forward as Heaven squeezes her mom’s hand and holds onto the nurses forearm with her other hand while they help her to her feet. He gaze flicks between the two of them, unspoken communication as she naturally reaches for him, fingers snapping around his forearm. She swallows, an array of words needing to be spoken, truthful, honest communication never having a more appropriate time to be had. But once more, it’s a necessity that must be shoved to the back burner.

Her eyes water as he lifts one hand to her face that Heaven is almost certain must be slightly swollen, on top of bruised, given the flashes of intermittent pain that accompany her speech. “Macy…”

He mimics her motion, a prominent bulge and disappearance in the middle of his neck. “They’re about to wean her sedation to see….”

His inability to continue is all the answer she needs. 

Heaven can’t allow herself to think about the reason why for his difficulty in completing his answer. 

She motions with her chin towards the bed where Macy lays, offering a small smile to her nephew who simply returns the gesture with a small nod and a flash of regret in his warm eyes. Heaven recalls her last interaction with him, too, and mentally adds him to the list of people she needs to speak with. 

Just one of many. But as Roman assists her to Macy’s bedside, her mom and the nurse guiding her IV pole close behind, the emotion that was already brewing reaches its boiling point.

A sharp intake of breath when she looks down at her baby girl, eyes closed, face still scuffed up, arm still wrapped, far too many wires connected to her. Far too many medical personnel surrounding her. She shouldn’t be here. In this bed. In this sterile room. In this situation.

This should have never happened.

“Mrs.—”

“Heaven,” she corrects, hand trembling as she reaches to stroke Macy’s cheek before flitting her gaze to the doctor. “It’s just Heaven.”

He nods before offering a gentle explanation as to the steps seconds away from commencing. Similair to what Roman said, just verbalized in a mixture of medical and regular terminology. But it’s when the actions are initiated that Heaven’s chest feels like it’s about to cave in on itself. Seconds that feel as if they’re being stretched into hours. Announcement of each task accompanied by Heaven’s grip on Roman’s forearm tightening, her eyes, as well as his, never once leaving Macy’s peaceful expression. 

They’re paralyzed and frozen in time waiting and watching with a shared level of trepidation mingled in with burning hope.

Because in that moment, it’s all they have. 

“Macy,” Heaven whispers, stomach clenching as she works to find her voice. It doesn’t matter that Macy’s hair, pulled back and tucked under her head, reveal the absence of her hearing aids. Heaven isn’t speaking to Macy for her to hear. She’s speaking to Macy for her to feel. “Baby, you gotta wake up. Mommy…mommy and daddy are here waiting for you.” Though her focus is on her child, her eyesight doesn’t need to be set on the man beside her to know that he has a visible reaction to her words. Barely an hour out of her own sedation, Heaven also doesn’t need to have regained control of all her faculties to know that this is the first time she’s ever openly referred to him as such. 

As Macy’s father. 

She continues, ignoring the pain from her shoulder as she bends over, the arm of the bed digging into her stomach. “I came back for you, May May.” Her voice cracks. “Now I need you to come back for me.” 

Another reaction to poignant words, from both her lover and mother, are lost in the sea of irrelevance at the sight of something. Subtle. So so subtle and minimal that Heaven is partially surprised she can make it out through her blurred vision. And for a moment, she questions herself. Questions if her desire is overpowering her sense.

And then it happens again. 

That same motion with increased visibility that’s caught by others as well, Roman’s deep voice whispering from beside her.

“Macy?” 

Once more, voices are drowned out as Heaven feels the weight in her stomach dropping and caving when visible progression results into fluttering. Macy’s eyes begin to flutter, each motion evoking sounds from around but none more than her parents who stand her bedside. 

“Macy?” Heaven cries and watches as her little girls eyelids fully lift and remain open, granting the room with a set of soft brown eyes that haven’t been seen in almost three days. Heaven has to grip Roman’s arm once more to keep from fainting. The shock of her awaking temporarily halts what would be the most logical next step for her parents as the doctor says something that's lost in the midst of endless relief. 

Her lips press together, lines creasing in her forward, the faintest hint of a scowl similar to that of when she’s awoken premature from a nap. Confused. She looks confused, and understandably so. 

But as a nurse begins to sign what would be the start of a basic line of questioning, Macy’s eyes instead flick to the left where her teary eyed parents stand beside her overcome with joy. 

Joy so overwhelming that Heaven can barely make out what Roman says as he shifts just enough to lean over and kiss Macy’s forehead. But it doesn’t stop her, nor him, from following the length of Macy’s non injured arm as her fingers flex. Similar, small baby steps that lead up to the way she lifts her arms just enough to sign with her hands. Slow, laggard movements, tension in her fingers from days of non-movement causing her to take longer than usual, but the result is so so worth it. 

Mommy

Another heartfelt sob erupts from Heaven’s mouth right as Macy’s eyes shift to the left, to Roman, and her fingers makes a different motion. Her fingers move a smidge quicker than before. 

Daddy

Heaven places her hand over her heart, issuing an abundance of silent prayers as the tension of the room immediately melts away to make way for immense gratitude. If not for the vast amount of relief felt at Macy awake and coherent, perhaps Heaven would have focused more on it. Sensed the swell of emotion from beside her at Macy's acknowledgement.

The acknoweldgment of her father.

Her real father.

But it’s the final signing she does that allow humor to mingle in with gratefulness.

Cookie. 

Only then as several of the adults in room break into light laughter does Heaven start to tune back into the conversations at hand. The nurse who was signing with Macy cracks a small, meaningful smile. She talks while signing. “I definitely think we can see about getting you some cookies, sweetie.” 

At that, Roman clears his throat, still caressing the top of Macy’s head as Heaven reaches for her hand. “No. It’s….it’s her stuffed animal.”

“She doesn’t go anywhere without it,” Heaven finishes. Nathan and her mother move closer, attempting to interact with Macy whose hands have returned to her side, her expression unchanged. But the mere fact that Heaven is looking into her baby girl’s open eyes instead of them closed and indicating an outcome from the worst sort of nightmare is more than enough for her. 

The doctor begins to task the nurse with signing a set of basic questions for Macy, most of which, Heaven is sure, is standard protocol. Most likely to gauge her level of awareness, though her being able to identify her parents is more than enough for Heaven.

Macy simply being awake is more than enough for Heaven. 

With everything transpiring, the array of voices filling the room that’s suddenly far less morose than when she initially entered, Heaven is moderately surprised when she overhears a set of footsteps. Perhaps it’s the almost rushed pace, or maybe it’s the lingering essence of always being daddy’s little girl that has her turn around to see her father enter. But it’s the way he stands closer to the door, away from Macy’s bedside and how he beckons over her mother that gives Heaven pause. Especially when she watches the way her mother’s smile dips and transitions into a confused frown as she walks over. 

Her attention is especially secured when her father angles his and Shelia’s body away, not once seeming to pay attention to the fact that Macy, his only grandchild, is awake. Ignoring her is one thing, but Macy?

Concern spikes, however, when, even without seeing their faces, Heaven can infer from their tense postures that something….something is wrong. 

That nagging, uncomfortable feeling dancing up her spine as she speaks up. “What is it?” 

And the feeling intensifies when her parents turn to her and cook up the quickest, most insincere “nothing” that she shoots down immediately. “What is it?”

Shelia presses her lips together. “Heaven.”

“Tell me.” 

Heaven doesn’t intend to raise her voice as much as she does. She especially doesn’t intend to snatch away the focus from Macy via Nathan and Roman’s confused expressions, but Macy’s lack of her hearing aids leave her oblivious to the conversation at hand.

Thus, Heaven pushing once more. Something in the base of her stomach tells her that she needs to. That she can’t and shouldn’t accept whatever excuse or lie her parents want to feed her for the sake of avoiding whatever fallout the truth may carry with it. 

That’s what caused all this mess in the first place.

But the truth that’s disclosed is a truth she could have never anticipated.

“They found him,” her father answers. “They found Jey.”

Something about hearing his name sends chills up Heaven’s spine. Evokes a myriad emotions. Anger dominating them all. But the anger is shoved aside in favor of clarification. “What—what do you mean they found him?” 

Heaven remembers Jey attacking her. Recalls the struggle for the gun. Everything after that is nothing more than a blank page, but in her mind, Jey should be locked up somewhere. He attacked her. Tried to kill her. Almost killed her daughter.

He should be buried under that damn jail. 

“He went on the run after….” Shelia trails off, her husband taking her hand as he offers a small nod.

“They located him though. Received an anonymous tip,” he continues. The pause, however, increases Heaven’s anxiety. The omission of what she would guess is a key piece of information having her press once more.

“What—”

“He was shot, Heaven,” he finally answers, voice void of any emotions and the concern in his eyes undoubtedly reserved for her and Macy. But primarily her and having to share such jarring news. “They found him unconscious. Beaten and shot. He’s apparently in critical condition. It doesn't look good. They don’t think he's going to—”

She’s unsure if it’s the way she turns her head away, staring at the ground, working to process the information, that makes her father pause in his explanation. Most likely. It’s certainly not from being choked up or holding any ounce of remorse or grief.

Jey’s sins are far too great and grave for her to extend any sort of compassion. Empathy has limitations, and Jey reached his the moment he left her daughter in their burning home. Perhaps the shock of what occurred has her in a state of emotional paralysis, but him attacking her, trying to kill her, isn’t even what drives her fury with him. It’s Macy. His crimes against Macy are unforgivable. 

Though lack of empathy doesn’t deprive her brain from springing out several thoughts, most of which circle around a single word.

Who.

Who attacked Jey?

It’s an unasked question, however, that still has little to no emotion attached to it. 

Nothing that Heaven actually feels. Truth be told, she’s not exactly sure what she feels. At least not until she happens to look behind her, wanting to ensure that Macy, though not physically possible, has not overheard news Heaven hasn’t the slightest idea how she’s going to break to her sweet little girl. 

Especially if….

But it’s halted when two other expressions snag her focus. 

Roman and Nathan. Twins in so many different ways, their personalities and dispositions almost identical. The first few seconds reveal brief, minor distinctions that, if not for how well she knows both father and son, she could have easily missed. The subtle tick of Roman’s jaw and motion of his bushy brows, weary eyes flashing with something unidentifiable. Similarly, there’s a discreet rise and fall of Nathan's shoulders followed by his mouth shifting before his expression lands in the same place as his father’s. Identical, nonchalant, calm, stoic look on their faces. And while she certainly wouldn’t expect either to emote any sort of despair or sorrow, it’s the lack of something she would expect to see that makes her still.

Shock.

They don’t….they don’t look shocked. 

Not even a little.

And there’s something unsettling about that for completely different reason. Something that has her stomach in knots and spurns widespread disquiet. “What—“

An interrupted, unasked question lost in the midst of another sound inserted into the commotion of the room, voices layered over one another, but that consternated tone overpowering the rest.

“Macy?”

Her daughter’s name being called is what forces Heaven to return her focus to her child, the sight of which immediately makes her stomach churn.

“Macy.”

Macy doesn’t respond though, and her silence isn’t due to the lack of her hearing aids and thus inability to hear. It’s because of the sudden, jerking motions of her body as medical staff swarm around her right as several of the machines connected to her baby start alarming loudly and frantic, some slow and intermittent, some speedily and with urgency that matches that of the team around her.

“She’s seizing.” 

“Her oxygen is dropping.” 

“She’s coding.” 

“Clear the room now!”

All sentences that whip past Heaven as she attempts to close the distance between her and her innocent baby, the view completely obscured by scrubs and a white coat. Arms and hands moving and reaching with purpose and necessity, some of which, however, serve as barriers.

“Macy!” 

It’s an out-of-body experience, the heartfelt sound of her baby’s name ripped from her mouth. From Roman’s. Both of them being restrained and forced away from a scene neither can look away from. Their efforts valiant and without respite, even as Heaven feels the sharp pain of the IV ripping out from her arm what with her desperate flailing and swinging of her arms against the nurses holding her back. Her and Roman's voice nothing but heartbreaking echoes of the deepest sort of terror as they scream for their child.

“MACY!”  

And similar to the same sight that haunted her that night, as she once more poured every ounce of energy in her body to get to her daughter, Heaven. continues to push. As does Roman. They continue to fight and resist. Tenacity undeterred as the cacophony of noise is usurped by a single, continuous, uninterrupted sound. 

A flatline.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⟡ ＮＥＸＴ⟡

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢 𝐚𝐦⠀— 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞