Glass shattered around her like falling stars. The world turned upside down, then sideways, then back again as the Ferrari rolled-once, twice-before slamming roof-first onto the cold asphalt and skidding off the road, sparks flying from the undercarriage.
Then-silence.
Everything was still.
Hyera's head lolled to the side, cheek pressed against the shattered window. Blood oozed from a cut above her eyebrow, seeping down into her eyes. Her arm dangled uselessly by her side, twisted at an unnatural angle. The smell of gasoline and scorched rubber filled the air.
Just a moment ago...
She was humming along to the radio, laughing, talking to her half-sister on the phone. Silvia had asked her to pick up a cake. She remembered smiling, teasing her gently.
Now-
All she could see was red.
The world in front of her was a haze of flickering lights, shattered glass, and blood-so much blood.
Bloodied and barely conscious, Hyera was trapped inside the crumpled car. Her body trembled as she fought to crawl out, inch by inch. Reaching her hands toward the passing cars, she cried out with every ounce of strength she had left, begging for someone-anyone-to stop and help her.
...
Hyera slowly regained consciousness to the chaotic chorus of urgent voices and clattering metal.
The blinding overhead lights stung her eyes as she blinked. Around her, a flurry of doctors and nurses crowded an operating table. Their hands moved fast-snapping open clamps, passing scalpels, pressing down on chest paddles. The air was thick with blood and panic.
It looked less like a surgery... and more like a battlefield.
Confused, Hyera staggered closer, her steps weightless.
Why am I here? What is this place?
The metallic scent of blood hit her nose, sharp and iron-heavy. She turned her gaze to the table-and froze.
Her heart stopped.
That girl on the table... was her.
What the hell was going on?
She couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. She stared at her own body, pale and broken, chest rising and falling in desperate, uneven gasps. Her limbs trembled as realization crept in.
Then-
A nurse walked right through her.
Like she wasn't even there.
Panic surged.
"Doctor! Her heartbeat's dropping fast-what do we do?" a young nurse cried, her voice cracking with fear. This was her first surgery. And now she was watching her first patient slip away.
The lead surgeon wiped sweat from his brow, jaw clenched as he studied the monitor. His voice was calm-but grim.
"Get the epinephrine. And prep the defibrillator. Whether she lives or not... depends on her luck now."
But luck had nothing to do with it. The damage was too severe. Unless this girl-Hyera-had a reason to fight... she wasn't going to make it.
CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.
The doctor gripped the defibrillator paddles and pressed them to her chest.
"Clear!"
A surge of electricity jolted her body. Machines beeped and buzzed in a maddening chorus. On the monitor, the green heartbeat line struggled-rising... falling... rising again... then...
Flatline.
A long, piercing tone replaced the rhythmic beeping of life.
"No... no..." Hyera's soul stumbled backward, her voice trembling. "No! I'm not dead! I'm right here! Please, try again!"
She ran to the doctor, shouting in his face, waving her arms-but no one looked her way. No one heard her.
She was invisible. A ghost among the living.
The lead surgeon slowly shook his head and passed the paddles to the nurse beside him. "That's it."
He looked down at the lifeless body on the table-the blood-soaked shell of the vibrant young woman she had once been.
"Patient: Hyera. Age: 20. Time of death: 8:35 p.m. Cause of death: traumatic injuries sustained in a car accident."
The words hit her like a bullet.
Twenty years old.
Gone.
Just like that.
"No! Damn it, I'm right here!" Hyera screamed. She paced back and forth in front of the surgical team, trying to shake them, scream into their ears, do something-anything. But it was useless. They'd already moved on.
The young nurse stepped away, her face ghostly pale. She walked to the edge of the table, stared at Hyera's lifeless face-and broke into tears.
It was her first time watching someone die. Her first time realizing how cold and final death could be.
Another nurse nudged her gently, reminding her they still had a job to finish. The two exchanged a quiet look before leaning over the body and carefully removing the IV lines, the oxygen tube, the heart monitor patches-one by one.
...
The doors of the operating room slid open from the center. A group of doctors and nurses walked out quietly, their faces solemn.
As soon as Hans saw the doors open, he rushed forward and grabbed the doctor's hands tightly, his brows drawn in panic and desperation.
"Doctor-please, my daughter... how is my daughter? Is she okay?"
The doctor glanced at Hans's trembling face and let out a soft sigh. His expression turned apologetic.
"I'm very sorry. The patient's injuries were too severe, and we missed the optimal window for treatment. We tried everything we could, but... she didn't make it. Please accept our condolences."
With that, the doctor and his team turned and walked away.
Hans was left standing there in stunned silence, staring blankly at the doors to the operating room. His hands trembled as he pointed at them, disbelief washing over his face.
Dead? She didn't make it?
The words echoed in his head. The shock hit hard and fast. He stumbled backward, repeating the doctor's words in a daze. Then his foot caught on the leg of a nearby blue metal chair, and he fell heavily to the ground.