They were a tableau of brokenness a father who arrived too late, a grandmother watching the innocence of a child be crushed by the weight of a mother's toxic legacy, and a little girl whose final act of defiance had brought her to the very precipice of death.
The sirens began to wail in the distance a high, mournful sound that echoed the dread pulsing in the hearts of everyone on that road.
The sterile, fluorescent-lit corridor of the hospital felt like an execution chamber. Shane and his mother sat on plastic chairs, their clothes stained with the dust and remnants of the tragedy on the road. They were hollowed out, staring at a blank wall, waiting for a miracle that the cold science of the hospital had already denied.
The surgeon emerged, his face grey with the exhaustion of a futile battle. He didn't need to speak; the slow, heavy shake of his head did the work for him.
