Chapter 6 - Night at the NICU
By 2:00 AM, the hospital had settled into a quiet, eerie calm.
I refused to go home. Detective Vance got me a clearance badge so I could stay in the corner of the NICU room, sitting in a wooden rocking chair next to the clear plastic isolette where the baby lay asleep.
He looked so tiny inside that large machine. Heart monitor wires were taped to his chest, and a soft blue light warmed his pale skin. His ankle was wrapped in a neat white bandage where the red pressure ring had been.
I reached through the rubber portholes of the incubator and gently rested my pinky finger against his tiny palm. His little hand instantly curled around my finger, holding on with surprising strength.
“I won't let them hurt you,” I whispered, tears spilling over my bruised cheek. “I promise you, little guy. I won't let them take you.”
Suddenly, the fluorescent lights overhead flickered once, twice, and went completely dark.
The low hum of the hospital's air conditioning ground to a sudden halt. The emergency backup generators clicked on three seconds later, bathing the hallway outside in a dim, eerie orange glow.
The heart monitors around the room beeped wildly as their batteries kicked in.
I stood up instantly, every muscle in my body contracting with tension.
Through the small glass window of the NICU door, I saw a tall figure moving quickly down the orange-lit corridor. The figure was dressed in scrubs, carrying a heavy leather medical bag. But something about the walk was wrong—the gait was uneven, rushed, and heavy.
The door to the NICU creaked open.
A woman walked in, pulling off a surgical mask.
Under the dim orange light, I saw the fresh, bloody stitch line across her brow—the mark from my stone mortar.
It was Brenda.
May you like
She held a quiet, silenced pistol in her yellow-gloved hand.
“Step away from the box, Maya,” Brenda hissed, her voice a terrifying rasp. “I told you... you should have minded your own damn business.”
