Just Let Go

She could feel a scream building up, pressing against her sanity, pressuring her already trembling body, threatening to snap the thin strands of reason left. In her head she could hear the smash, the shattering of glass, the splintering of bones against pavement, the crumpling metal frame of the car. Beneath her shaking hands, the smooth wood of the desk was cold. The tile under her slippered feet was hard and utterly discomforting. Everything was white, the tiny office completely pristine with no pictures or warming objects; only certificates and white.
Someone murmured something in a blunt voice and hands pulled her down into a rough chair. More murmuring was blundering past her but she took none of it in. She was staring past the man and his white coat and dull brown eyes, gazing out the window, into the corridor. The door across the hall was closed, the small window blocked by a shade. But that didn’t matter. She was imagining it perfectly on her own.
Inside that door would be another room, just as white and cold as this one. There would be more lights and machinery, mechanical beeps and blips interrupting the orderly chaos. Nurses and doctors would be bustling about, following procedures as usual, their brains going along for the ride, while deep inside their chests, their hearts would be wrenching, twisting. This was not normal. This one was not going to make it. She could see it now, the table and its occupant, laying motionless on its blank surface. He would be swathed in fabric, that ugly blue plastic-like fabric that coated all the medics. Places would be uncovered though, and red would stain the white and blue of the room, jabbing against the plainness as little silver utensils poked and prodded the red, followed by the white-gloved hand. The vision became clearer and she could see under the startling red, the creamy skin, once so soft and smooth, now marred by grazes and that blasted red. Its uninterrupted normality would be ripped and torn, exposing what lay beneath. In her mind’s eye, she traveled up, past a hunk of blue plastic and to his face. The feathery brown hair, almost a sandy blond would be untamed across his forehead, half-covering his eyes. The eyes; those hazel orbs, so deep and full of life and ringed with gorgeous dark eyelashes. They were the shade of brown that went on forever and made people stop and stare. It was a living color, a color with the properties of an ocean of molten gold, swirling endlessly. They might never open again, those golden eyes. Their last glimpse of life might have been the blue sky as the car rolled, or the tall evergreens, lining the road. Or it could have been the hard cement as it rushed to meet his body, the wheels of the other car through the haze of pain. The pain he would have felt ripped through her now, tearing her eyes from the door and back to the doctor. He had brown eyes too. She studied them for a moment. They were shallow and thick, a still brown. That was all that could be said for his eyes. They were brown. She jumped as a cold hand was lain down onto hers.
Would you like to see him? He spoke in a deep, wooden voice. Would you like to see him? The question was so simple but her lips were as stiff as his voice. Of course I want to see him, are you crazy? A stab of energy ran up her spine and she stood up, swaying slightly and then walked out of the dry, white room, away from the empty eyed man.
The knob was icy under her faltering grip but she pushed it with her shoulder and stepped in. Blue plastic nurses scuttled out of the way, their wrenching, twisting hearts hidden under the hideous fabric. She could feel the wary eyes of the two doctors on her back but could have cared less. In the middle of the pristine room was the table. On the table lay the body. Swathed in blue, with patches of cream and scarlet blinking out, he lay still; almost. The rising and falling of his chest was faint, and the mechanical beeps slow, but they existed nonetheless. The stab of energy turned into a torrent of adrenaline, flooding her system, forcing her towards the table, her steps lurching, and her heart not much different. Her hands cupped his face and her ears blocked out the warnings of the watching doctors as her eyes took him in. His skin was still the same in places that had been untouched by the road. It was soft and smooth and creamy. Fine, golden hairs speckled his arms and the sandy hair was still feathery when it wasn’t matted with red. The vivid color spilled out of a slit in his lip and dribbled down his chin, staining the pale skin. Her vocal cords stretched and writhed as she whispered his name, the air rasping through the cords, frozen by the cold, the white and the fear. She repeated it, the name, putting every ounce of strength left in that one syllable, placing her hope, her faith and her love into that name. The cream colored skin stayed unmoving, the eyelids covering a golden ocean stayed shut and the lips, stained with crimson, uttered nothing. Ignoring the red that seeped into her robe, seeing not the gashes in his flesh, she pressed her head against the crook of his neck, where so many times she had found comfort, and hugged his chest. A gagging, choking sound pried itself from her lips and tears gushed from her closed eyelids onto the bare skin. She shook as she cried, and the doctors, for all their orderliness could not bring themselves to tear her away.
The broken girl by the table was crumpling like the car, leaning against the plastic structure, its white surface failing to break through the shield of grief that over took her. A firm hand, however, did, causing her to look up. A man was standing at her shoulder. You have to leave now. The words rang deftly in her ears, vibrating and echoing painfully. The operation room is ready. Operation? A shudder ran through the girl, starting in her shoulders and racking down her spine, tickling her skin and setting the hairs on end. The firm hands pulled at her now, trying to take her away. Her fingers latched onto the blue plastic covering the body. Muscles all along her own body tensed as the firm hands tried to ease her away. They failed. More hands came, each trying to separate the girl from the body. Some tugged at her clothes and others pulled at her shoulders. She ignored them all, her mind too far gone to return. A hand rubbed her back softly, its intention not to pull but to comfort. She listened to it, felt the gentle warmth from its flesh and looked up. Molten gold, swirling in endless oceans met her from under sandy hair and gorgeous dark eyelashes. The lips, split and peppered with scarlet, spread apart stiffly, revealing white teeth to match the room. A tear dripped down from the corner of a golden eye as it studied her face. A bubble had formed and the girl saw nothing but his face and felt nothing but his comforting touch. It will be alright. She could see it in his eyes, that one statement, ringing true in those endless eyes. And she heard his voice, weak, rusty and whispering but real.
“Just let go.”