Coin-Flip

Part I: The End

Sirens blared. The telltale red-and-white lights flashed overhead. Although her eyes were closed, she could see them in her mind's eye. Her fingers were still locked around the small glass bottle. As they lifted her onto the stretcher, it slipped from her grasp and shattered on the hardwood floor of her bedroom. She tried to open her eyes, to push them away, to tell them to leave her, but found that she could not.

Then she was moving. There was a sense of urgency in the air; she could feel it. Voices whispered wordlessly, making her skin crawl. Something sharp pricked her arm. The pain kept her pinned down to reality, though all she wanted was to escape into the comfort of the darkness.

As abruptly as it had begun, the motion stopped. She became aware of a steady beeping. It was pitched at high E-flat, like her mother's favorite wine-glass but with a timbre less pleasant. It droned on and on. In the background, another strange sound competed for her attention. At first she thought it was laughter, but then she realized it was the sound of someone crying.

She was so tired. She wanted so badly just to sleep, and yet she could not.

She was sixteen years old.