A Grip That Wouldn’t Let Go
Two stretchers came in with white sheets already draped over the faces. Following them was a gurney carrying a three-year-old girl with wide, terrified eyes that scanned the room, searching for something familiar in a reality that had just been shattered. Her parents had passed away before the ambulance even arrived at the hospital.
I wasn’t supposed to stay with her. Yet, when the nursing staff attempted to move her to a quieter area, she latched onto my arm with both hands and refused to release me. Her grip was so intense that I could feel her rapid pulse through her tiny fingers. “I’m Avery. I’m scared. Please don’t leave me and go. Please…” she whispered repeatedly, as if pausing would cause her to disappear alongside her world.
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