Youneverknowwhenit’s going to be the last time.
“What the hell are you doing? Don’t you fucking stop!”
I roar the words at the smooth-faced, bland medic, getting in his way when he tries to step back. The shake of his head makes my blood run cold. “Do it again. You don’tgive up on her!”
“This is the third time—,”
“I don’t care!” My shoulders shake as I lean over. My hands land on his arms, twisting him around as I shove him back toward the bed. “Again.”
The nurse glances between us uncertainly, the paddles in her hands raised.
And on the bed between us—
“Please.” My voice breaks. “She’ll come through it again. Just – bring her back.”
The chaos in my head, the panic in my chest, the agony – it feels out of place here, despite the small figure laying on the bed. Despite the equipment that hints at saving lives even as they stand back and do nothing while that fucking noise sounds around us in a long, continuous drone.
While the machine beside the bed shows nothing but a flat line.
Because the people around me don’t give a single fuck that it’s Kenny in that bed – that it’smyKennedy – and that she’s dying.Again.
They don’t see her.
They see something else. I know exactly what they see. Something inhuman.
Something not worth saving.
And they’re not listening to me. “Bring her back!”
I need help. I need—
Voices. More voices, raised and yelling as I step around them. Kenny’s hand feels limp, my cheeks wet.
Keep your damn heart beating, Kenny.
I squeeze her hand, hard, as if she can feel it.You don’t give up on us.
Oscar’s low voice breaks through the yelling, talking rapidly.
And then I’m pushed out of the way, Kenny’s hand slipping from mine as Max pulls me back. And they finally –finally– step forward as I stagger away, my back hitting the wall.
“Oscar got an exception.” Max repeats the words when I stare at him blankly. “From the board. It took longer than we thought.”
Almost too long.
Almost too late.
We’re always almost too fucking late.
Oscar’s mouth is a thin line as he crosses his arms and steps back until he’s next to me, giving the staff space to work.
“Clear.” The nurse glances my way, just once, before she sets the paddles against the pads on Kenny’s chest. Her body jerks as the shock hits.
“Come on.” Oscar’s low, fervent mutter reaches me. He stares at the bed. “Come on, Kenny.”
Three times, we’ve stood here uselessly and watched.
Three times, her heart has given up.
