Chapter 6 - The Longest Night in Room 412
The crisis arrived in the dead of December when an opportunistic infection sent Claire’s temperature soaring to dangerous heights. The room buzzed with urgent activity—alarms chiming in frantic dissonance, doctors issuing rapid orders, and bags of antibiotic infusions being hung in rapid succession. Claire slipped in and out of consciousness, her body shuddering under ice packs.
In the delirium of her fever, the white linoleum walls dissolved into the pale wood hallway of her home. She saw Lily standing at the end of the corridor in her pink dress, reaching out with both hands. In the dream, the distance between them kept stretching, pulling Claire backward into a cold, dark current. She felt herself slipping, her lungs aching with the desire to simply let go and rest.
Then, through the haze of the fever, Claire’s fingers brushed against the small nightstand beside her bed. Her trembling hand knocked over a plastic cup before landing squarely on the small square of pink felt she kept by her pillow. Her thumb caught the ragged edge. The memory of Lily’s voice—Then take my heart with you—echoed with the force of a bell through the room. Claire closed her fist tightly around the felt, anchored herself to that small touch, and forced her lungs to draw another breath.
