The Waiting Room

This story contains sensitive themes such as physical violence and dark themes.

The fluorescent lights above me hummed as if bees were trapped within the glass. It’s four-thirty-two in the morning, and the hospital is desolate. My hands smell faintly of petrol and blood.

Tick, tick, tick.

The clock above the reception desk ticks, and ticks, and ticks. I can hear every second, tearing at my skin, my teeth, and my eyes. The hospital smells of cleaning liquid and processed food, and somewhere down the corridor, a machine helps someone breathe.

I keep thinking to myself, ‘What if the machine forgets?’.

Tick, tick, tick.

We only turned back because she forgot her purse. Two minutes earlier, and the driver would have passed us by. If she’d remembered, we would be home by now, sleeping soundly.

Tick, tick, tick.

My heart beats in rhythm with the clock. The hum of the lights never changes. My hands are still red. The machine exhales again. My eyes drift to the clock - it tells me two minutes and forty-three seconds since I last looked. Two minutes and forty-three seconds for her heart to stop.

Tick, tick, tick.

In my mind, I can see flashing images of shattered glass catching the moonlight, the car skewed against the riverbank, and my mother’s hand slack in mine.

The air was filled with the smell of burnt rubber and leaking petrol. I couldn’t unclasp my seatbelt, and my lungs gasped for air that was thick with smoke.

Somewhere, past the high-pitched ringing, a slurred voice mumbled something I couldn’t hear. Then, the sound of water rising, and the slow release of my mother’s grasp on my hand.

BANG!

My eyes locked with a panicked doctor, sweeping items up from the floor. Her eyes are wide with urgency, and I can’t look away.

Everything feels paused, or slowed. Like a record player that keeps skipping.

Tick, tick, tick.

I shut my eyes and try to fight the nightmare away. Instead, I’m somewhere else - there is a golden, warm sun, crashing waves, and singing seagulls. A whisper of salt and sea foam teased the air, embracing me like a cleansing breath. Someone else is with me.

My mother’s familiar laugh and distinct smile. She twirls me in the air, my small legs kicking with joy as we spin, our laughter ringing together.

We walked along the welcoming tides, collecting different seashells on the way. My mother’s eyes sparkled the way the water did, as if trying to soak up every bit of the day.

She reached into her handbag - and then stopped, furrowing her brow.

“Did I forget my purse again?” she asked, half-laughing and shaking her head. This was common, like a little game we played.

I dug into my pockets, managing to find some coins. Just enough to cover both of the cones. Relief washed over my mother’s face, and we sat on a bench overlooking the ocean, vanilla and bubblegum ice cream melting between our fingers.

That day, we laughed. It wasn’t serious; she had just forgotten her purse. It wasn’t a cruel twist that would change everything.

But then, the sun faded away. The calming ocean waves were replaced with a haunting, gurgling noise. Darkness closed in. Shards of broken glass punctured my temple as my head collided with the dashboard.

I saw my mother - her face blue and purple, her disfigured complexion concealed half-hidden behind tangled hair.

My heart fell with the car’s twisted descent, and I was powerless to stop it. As the car sank deeper into the abyss, so too did my hope of ever returning to that warm, beautiful beach. With every spin the car made, the innocence of a child laughing in her mother’s arms was stolen and replaced with spiraling terror.

Tears brimmed in my eyes, and the pounding of my heart pulled me back to the white, glossy walls. My hands gripped the plastic chair beneath me so hard my knuckles stood out like broken bones.

Tick, tick, tick.

In place of the sinister gurgling, the clock dripped. Droplets of water, it sounded. But I hadn’t escaped; this nightmare wasn’t over. The machine down the corridor still beeped steadily, and somewhere beyond lay the lifeless woman.

People moved like ghosts through the hallway, as if I were invisible. As if they couldn’t see the storm erupting inside me. Time didn’t freeze for them - it flowed in regular beats, but for me, the seconds dragged into an endless loop.

Tick, tick, tick.

Slamming doors. Hurried footsteps. People with places to be. But I was still here, stuck - and it felt like it was going to be like this for eternity.

Blue and red lights danced on the water’s surface. Strong hands gripped me, pulling me from the state of submersion. I was no longer sinking.

But I didn’t have her beside me anymore. Her fingers no longer linked with mine. I glanced down. My palms were streaked with red.

Inaudible voices echoed in my head, my body remained motionless, as I am now. The glare of red lights and piercing sirens consumed my thoughts.

Time stretched thin, and the absence of my mother’s touch made me want to scream, cry, and hold her hand again.

But I was held underneath an invisible weight.

The waiting room crept back, the stale air and the empty corridors closing in around me. The nest of bees buzzing above me, with a flicker that matched my sparks of hope.

Tick, tick, tick.

“We’re doing all we can,” sounded like empty words with no meaning. While they walked, talked, and laughed, I was forever trapped - stuck in a world that moved without me.

Tick, tick, tick.

Tick, tick, tick.

A doctor stepped forward. His face was unreadable, but his eyes were dark with sorrow.

With a slow, quiet breath, he said,

“I’m sorry. Your mother didn’t make it.”

And then, the frozen time loop finally unpaused.

The last shreds of feeling inside me slipped away, leaving behind only the jagged shards of my broken heart.

My knees collided with the floor, sending sharp pain racing through my body.

I called out for her, desperate for a reply.

But now, the machine fell silent. The hum of bees stilled. And the clock no longer ticked.

Maybe if I had just reminded her to bring her purse.