Micah rushed in, his coat disheveled: “What’s the situation?”
“Her blood oxygen saturation is dropping, the patient has fallen unconscious, cardiac arrest, the situation is dangerous. The more critical the moment, the more one needs to remain calm.”
Elisa’s face had turned ashen gray, her lips purple-black, her pulse undetectable, her heartbeat silent.
“Cardiopulmonary resuscitation,” said Micah bitterly. He had never seen Elisa so frail. If only he had paid more attention to her, perhaps things would not have deteriorated to this point.
Sorrow welled up from the depths of his heart, like a drop of ink diffusing into a glass of clear, pure water, slowly staining the entire cup black.
During the lengthy resuscitation, Elisa’s heartbeat gradually recovered, like a last flicker before darkness. Incredibly, amidst this process, she managed to crack open her eyes.
The oxygen mask on her face was fogged over in white. Through the blurry whiteness, she felt a primal fear stir. But spotting Micah brought her some comfort. She wanted to speak to him, but had no strength.
The pain robbed her of control over her own body. She could not even twitch a severed finger.
Noticing her awakened state, Micah immediately grasped her icy hand. “Elisa, can you hear my voice? You’ll recover, be healthy again. Don’t give up! Think of all the people who care about and love you. Don’t you enjoy the violin? When you’re discharged I’ll take you to a concert.”
A line of glistening tears spilled from the corner of Elisa’s eyes. Micah knew she had heard him.
Elisa struggled to part her corpse-pale lips, attempting to make a sound. “Micah,” she uttered weakly, barely audible.
Micah brought his ear closer. He could just make out her saying “It hurts so much.”
Clenching his teeth, Micah swallowed back the sourness rising within him. Blinking back tears, he reached to wipe the tears from Elisa’s temples. “Endure a little longer and the pain will be gone. You’ve always been so strong.”
Elisa blinked. Her vision grew hazier, everything doubled. Mouth agape like a beached fish gasping for air, the bloodless lips curled into a frail smile. In a hoarse croak she whispered, “Don’t tell Hamish about my illness.”
Even now, he was the one she thought of. Why not tell him? Men like Hamish deserved a lifetime of regret and remorse, living in perpetual guilt and unrest.
“Alright, I promise you,” said Micah, sniffling.
Elisa gazed at the piercing surgical lights overhead as her eyes slowly shut.
Elisa’s emaciated body was entangled in various machines and tubes. Before the surgery they needed to rinse her stomach, and upon seeing the undigested mass accumulated inside, Micah’s pupils reddened further.
It was actually paper pulp. This meant the last thing Elisa ate was toilet paper!
How could she have eaten such a thing?
Micah instantly thought of Hamish waiting outside the operating room.
He clenched his teeth, suppressing the ravenous fury rising within.
The surgery was unsuccessful, barely preserving Elisa’s last breath, which could flicker out at any moment.
Elisa was moved to the ICU for monitoring. If she did not recover within 48 hours, she would face further peril.
The doors to the operating room swung open and Micah emerged, mask removed, glaring sharply at Hamish.
Hamish tried to approach and ask about Elisa’s condition, but his legs felt laden with lead, too heavy to even shuffle.
Micah strode up to him. Hamish heard his own strained voice ask, “How is she?”
Micah’s fist suddenly swung out, punching Hamish’s face with full force. Stumbling back a few steps, Hamish steadied himself, head tilted aside, hands clenched into fists at his thighs. He repeated the question: “How is Elisa?”
“Thanks to you, she’s not dead, only halfway there. Death nearly took her away.”
Micah’s words pierced his throat like a steel needle. Amidst the dull pain, his vision darkened and even breathing grew labored.
Seeing Hamish’s anguished expression, Micah mocked, “Hamish, you caused this result. What right do you have to act so pained? Elisa won’t be worrying over you anymore. Go be concerned for who you should actually care for.”