Chapter 63: "White Walls, Heavy Silence"
The ambulance lights painted the walls red and blue as it sped through the night. Jasmine sat beside the stretcher, Zariah's cold hand still clasped in hers. She couldn't cry anymore — she was empty. Her heart beat only to remind her that Zariah's still did.
Zariah hadn't spoken again. Her eyes had shut somewhere between the house and the road, and her breathing was shallow. The paramedics worked quickly, wrapping her arm, checking her vitals, inserting an IV. One of them asked Jasmine to step back. She didn't move.
"I'm not leaving her," she whispered.
They didn't ask again.
The hospital doors swung open as they arrived, and Jasmine trailed behind the gurney, numb and shaking. Nurses barked orders. A doctor rushed over, reading the chart. The white lights burned her eyes. The smell of antiseptic made her sick.
They wheeled Zariah through a set of double doors — and that's where Jasmine had to stop.
A nurse held her gently. "You can't go past here, honey. Let them work."
"But she needs me—"
"They've got her. She's in good hands."
Jasmine didn't believe it. No one knew Zariah's silence the way she did. No one knew what the stillness in her eyes meant.
She stood there frozen, watching the doors close.
Hours passed.
She waited in a stiff plastic chair, blood still dried on her jeans, hands locked between her knees. She refused to call anyone. Not Zariah's mom. Not the school. No one.
She didn't want to be the one to explain what really happened.
Finally, a doctor came out. Jasmine jumped to her feet.
"She's stable," the doctor said. "She lost a lot of blood, but the cut didn't hit any major arteries. You got to her just in time."
Jasmine didn't hear anything past "stable." Her knees nearly gave out in relief.
"Can I see her?"
The doctor hesitated. Then nodded. "She's sleeping, but yes."
Zariah lay in a private room, pale and motionless beneath stiff hospital sheets. Her arm was bandaged, a monitor beeped steadily beside her. Jasmine sat in the chair next to the bed and just… watched her.
"You scared me," she whispered after a while. "More than anything in this world."
Zariah didn't move.
"I don't know what to say to you when you're like this," Jasmine continued, her voice low. "But I'm going to keep saying something anyway. Because someone has to. And I told you — I'm not leaving."
She reached for Zariah's hand again. It was still cold. But not lifeless.
That was enough — for now.
The nurse checked in once, said visiting hours would end soon. Jasmine didn't move.
She leaned her head on the edge of the bed, still holding Zariah's hand.
And finally, somewhere in the silence between the machines and the weight of the moment… Zariah stirred.
Her fingers twitched.
And then — her lips parted, her voice barely a whisper:
"…Why didn't you let me go?"
Tears spilled from Jasmine's eyes again, quiet but endless.
"Because you still have something to live for," she whispered back. "Even if you don't see it yet… I do."