Chapter 10 - The Rhythm of Life
The sharp, high-pitched whine of the defibrillator echoed down the pristine corridor.
Thump.
Daisy’s tiny body jolted off the gurney.
Clara collapsed to her knees against the hallway wall, clutching her apron, her sobs tearing out of her chest in broken gasps. Damian stood beside her, his hands covered in grime and drying blood, his fingers digging into his own hair as he stared through the glass partition of the resuscitation suite.
""Still no rhythm! Charge to seventy! Clear!""
Thump.
""Damian..."" Clara wept, rocking back and forth on the floor. ""She’s only five. She hasn't even seen the ocean yet... she wanted to see the ocean...""
Damian sank slowly down onto the cold tile beside Clara. He didn't say a word. He pulled her against his chest, wrapping his long, trembling arms around her shivering shoulders. His shirt was soaked with her tears and the rain from the garden, but he held her with a desperate, crushing grip.
""Don't you dare die, Daisy,"" Damian whispered toward the glass, his voice breaking into a ragged, silent sob. ""I just found you. Don't leave me.""
Inside the room, the monitor continued to scream a continuous, flat tone. Dr. Alan Vance was performing manual chest compressions, his sweat dripping onto the surgical mask.
""One, two, three, four... Epinephrine in! Push one milligram!""
Beep...
A faint blip appeared on the green line.
Beep... beep...
""We have a rhythm!"" a nurse shouted. ""Sinus tachycardia, rate one-forty! Blood pressure is stabilizing!""
Alan stepped back, wiping his brow with his sleeve, looking through the glass at Damian. He nodded once—a tight, grim gesture. ""We have to open her chest now, Damian. The valve is compromised. We're taking her directly to the OR.""
The gurney was pushed out of the room, surrounded by monitors and IV bags, disappearing behind the red double doors of the surgical wing.
Clara tried to stand to follow, but her knees gave out. Damian caught her before she hit the ground, lifting her effortlessly into a waiting chair.
""She’s alive,"" Clara choked out, covering her face. ""She's alive...""
""She is,"" Damian said, kneeling before her, wiping the mud and tears from her cheek with the cuff of his sleeve. ""And now, Clara, I am going to make sure no one ever hurts either of you again.""
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Footsteps approached from the lobby. Damian turned around slowly, his eyes hardening into cold titanium.
Four uniformed officers of the State Police stood at the end of the hall, accompanied by Julian Thorne, whose face was bruised and smudged, but smiling with smug triumph.
