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My consciousness came back in distortion, dripping slowly into me, like the IV swaying on its pole.
I wanted to spring up from the bed and look around me, but my body refused to budge, boycotting every order I gave it.
I settled back into myself, a wave of peace washing over me.
Mustering every ounce of strength I could find, I flared my eyes open and blinked into a direct beam of light which intensified my headache.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I turned to find out what was emitting this pathetic noise, but I couldn't. I was completely immobilised and after fighting with my body for what seemed like hours, I moved by a millimetre. I felt a bed of nails shred my insides into pieces, over and over again.
I could then recognise tubes. Tubes in my hands, tubes in my throat, tubes in my nose, something in my head, tubes in my stomach. Realisation dawned upon me.
I'm in a hospital.
A spontaneous stream of tears trickled down my face and despite the oxygen filled room, I felt myself suffocating. My vision doubled and I could hear my heartbeat in my brain.
In every breath I drew, my lungs punished me, knives slitting my insides.
However, this pain could not match the wounds of my shattered heart.
My dear heart, which made me do this.
My dear heart, which wanted me to keep laughing over old movies with my parents.
My dear heart, which wanted me to go on world tours with Raksha and Naira.
My dear heart, which wanted me to become a social worker and bring smiles to so many people.
My dear heart, which wanted me to grow old with Karthik and watch our children play in the ocean.
Turning slightly, I saw a picture near my table of a little girl. It took me some time before I recognised her from the crash.
Thank you for saving her life, the note read.
There were more on the desk-I couldn't read them-but that one note was all that I needed. I closed my eyes and let myself be carried away by my thoughts.
I woke up sometime later, exhaled sharply and whispered, "I give up.", to nobody in particular. I stopped fighting with my body and let myself go, pretending I was back in the ocean, that summer in Bali, my heartbeat and the waves in sync.
The pain intensified and shredded me into minuscule pieces and at its zenith, it dulled.
I could afford to let out a sigh and sunk even more into my spiralling consciousness.
The monitor started beeping faster and a nurse scrambled in.
"Oh no, no, oh no..", she murmured to herself as she pressed the emergency button and rushed out. A team of nurses had surrounded me.
My breathing grew erratic as I drew long, painful gasps of air, before crashing back onto the bed.
The doctor hustled in, barking orders at the quiet nurses and their voices slightly faded into nothing.
I pushed myself to suck air in, one last time, one last breath and watched as the lights and the doctors blurred into pitch darkness.
A weight lifted off of me and vast emptiness replaced it.
My dear heart, which refused to give up, had stopped.
---
The doctors and the nurses watched the battered, lifeless girl as dead silence except for the monotone beep of her empty pulse loomed around them.
With a heavy heart, the head doctor wiped away the lone tear down the side of his cheek and turned his expression to stone. He placed the stethoscope around his neck and pushed the front door open. He was bombarded with the family's frantic questions, but he went straight to the girl's father and held his hands.
"Mr.Moorthy, we did all we could. I'm sorry. Your daughter is not with us anymore."
