Another.
Another.
“Sloane,” Kevin says quietly. “She’s been down for eleven minutes.”
“One more round.”
“Sloane—”
“One. More. Round!”
He sighs but doesn’t stop me. I keep going, sweat gathering at my hairline, my arms burning, while behind me, the daughter sobs somberly, each one spiking straight through my skull.
She’s gone.
I know it.
But I can’t stop.
Because if I stop, the girl loses her mother.
If I stop, I’m the one who decides when someone’s life ends.
And I’ve had enough of death deciding things for me.
‘Sloane,’I hear a woman’s voice in my ear again, closer this time, as though she’s standing right behind me, and I snap my head around.
“Time of death, 22:47,” Kevin announces.
I turn back to look at him, my heart racing in my chest, my breathing rapid as I blink a few times, trying to figure outwhat the fuckis going on. My hands still on the woman’s chest. The sudden silence is deafening, broken only by the daughter’s wail of grief.
I step back, my arms dropping to my sides. Someone covers the body with a sheet. Someone else is ushering the daughter out, her screams fading down the hallway.
I stand there, staring at the shape under the white sheet, and I feel nothing.
No. That’s wrong.
I feeleverything.
I just don’t show it.
“Go take five,” Kevin says softly, his hand on my shoulder. “You’ve been on for twelve hours.”
“We’re slammed.”
“We’re always slammed.Go,” he orders.
I don’t argue. I peel off my gloves, more blood, always more blood, and head for the staff break room. My legs feel disconnected from my body, as though I’m being puppeted through the motions. The break room is blessedly empty, and I collapse onto the ratty couch that smells of old coffee and someone’s forgotten lunch, dropping my head into my hands.
I’m so fucking tired.
Not just tonight-shift tired. Soul tired. The kind of exhaustion that sleep doesn’t fix.
I close my eyes, and immediately the nightmares begin flickering behind my eyelids. Always the same woman. Dark hair spilling over pale shoulders. Eyes that burn red and gold. She’s standing in a room made of shadows, calling my name, her voice layered with something ancient, a darkness flowing through her.
‘Sloane. Sloane. Come home to me.’
I jerk awake, my heart pounding. “Shit!” I press my palms against my eyes until I see stars. “I need a vacation.”
