An End

The breath was knocked out of her body as the officer's words registered in her mind. It was like time stilled and she could no longer breathe.

"But... Are you sure i-it’s my mother?"

"Yes, miss. We've seen her ID and her face matches with the picture. Her name is Mary Thompson, correct?"

"Yes," Patricia whispered. "W-which hospital is she in?"

The officer told her the address of the hospital her mother had been taken to and she quickly jotted it down with trembling hands. She thanked him and ended the call. God, please let her be okay, she prayed. She wouldn’t let herself think about all the possible outcomes of an accident like that.

Fortunately, the hospital was not that far from their home so she could walk there. Her mother and her aunt had always been close, hence, on her way she called her aunt Genevieve and told her about the accident. She tried her best not to burst into tears while explaining. As soon as she reached the hospital, she rushed inside towards the reception where she was told that her mother was in the operation theater on the fifth floor.

Her heart suddenly deflated and tears welled up in her eyes. She made her way to the corridor outside the ICU and theater and sat down, slumping on the cold metal seat with her head in her hands. She had been hoping that her mother hadn't had any severe injuries but now that that hope was gone... She prayed that her mother would be okay.

After a few minutes, her aunt arrived and hugged her without saying a word as she sat down beside her. They both knew that talking wouldn't do any good. All they could do was pray.

After an hour that seemed like it wouldn't end, a doctor in his mid-forties came out of the operation theater with a grim expression. Patricia and her aunt both stood up and went to him as Patricia asked, with her heart in her throat, "how is she?"

"You are..?" The doctor asked.

"I’m Mary Thompson's sister and this is her daughter." Her aunt answered.

The doctor nodded before waving his hand to the seats behind them as he said, "please sit down."

With bated breath, Patricia and Genevieve did as they were told.

The doctor continued after they sat down, "Mary had some major injuries including a fracture in the collarbone, ribs as well as internal bleeding and damage to organs." The doctor paused letting the news sink in, as Genevieve's and Patricia's eyes widened.

"Oh my god...I-will she be okay?" Patricia asked as tears threatened to spill out of her eyes.

The doctor paused again before saying, "we've just operated on her but if I were to tell the truth, the chances of her surviving are low. You can talk to her now if you want to, say your goodbyes. We tried our best but she had lost a lot of blood by the time she arrived... I'm really sorry."

That being said, after giving her a sympathetic glance, the doctor disappeared down the hallway.

Patricia was in denial. Her first thought was that the doctor was wrong but judging by his grim expression she could tell that he wasn't. Tears started to stream down her face and a sob broke through her as her aunt hugged her close.

They both walked towards the ICU together with shaking legs while tears fell down their faces freely. When they entered the room, she couldn't bear to see her mother in the state that she was in. Her mother had always been a strong woman but now she was in a hospital bed with tubes attached to her body and machines breathing for her. Fate had a way of changing things.

She rushed to her mother's side immediately and grabbed her hand gently, whispering, "mom..."

Mary's eyes half-opened slowly and she gave her daughter a soft smile, slowly letting out a breath, "tris."

There was so much sadness in her voice that Patricia wondered how death could be so cruel. For a few moments she just kept looking into her mother's sad blue eyes, the sound of her sobs echoing around the white, sterile room. Her mother had seen so much, had suffered through so much, had cried so many times for her...for her father, only for life to end this way? It wasn’t fair. She deserved happiness, they both did. And her mother deserved a long life.

Mary closed her eyes, half because she couldn’t see her daughter cry as she lay on her death bed, and half because she didn’t have the strength of keeping them open. Her body was numb from the painkillers, and worn out from what it had endured. She tried to move her head towards her sister slightly and she came nearer, holding onto her other hand.

Mustering up whatever strength she had left, she whispered, “take care…of tris.”

Genevieve sniffed, wiping the tears from her eyes before hugging her and saying softly, "always." She then stumbled towards the door and walked out of the room to give Mary and Patricia a moment in private.

Mary tried to open her eyes but when she couldn’t, she brought her lips to move slightly, "I… love you.” Patricia couldn't bring herself to speak amidst her weeping. So she just nodded, squeezing her hand tighter.

She put her head on her mother’s hand, trying to take deep breaths between her sobs to control herself. Her breaths shuddered out of her and it was no use, really.

Just as her mother opened her mouth to speak again, the machines started to beep. Patricia lifted up her head and looked at the machine that indicated the heart rate and noticed that it was decreasing rapidly.

Mary didn't have much time left.

Realizing the same thing, Mary squeezed her hand to get her attention and put all of the strength and breath left in her to let out: “tris you-your father… love you…stay a-way…ca-”

That's where her mother couldn't speak anymore. Her chest rose one last time weakly before her body went limp. The machines started making a lot of noise at once and the last thing Patricia remembered before falling unconscious were the doors opening and her aunt and nurses rushing inside.

---

The next day, also Patricia's birthday, was one of the worst of her life.

After she came back to consciousness, she had found herself in her room. For a moment, everything had seemed fine. It was her eighteenth birthday, the day every girl looked forward to. But suddenly reality crashed down on her-The accident... The last moments with her mother... Her death-and she couldn’t breathe.

She did have a little hope that everything had been a dream; she would go downstairs finding her mom in the kitchen making a special breakfast for her and then they would go out and spend the rest of the day enjoying and celebrating her birthday. But that hope, too, diminished when she entered the kitchen and instead of her mother smiling at her, it was her aunt standing there with red puffy eyes.

Upon seeing Patricia standing at the entrance of the kitchen like she had seen a ghost, her aunt walked over to her and hugged her tightly. Somehow, they both ended up crying. Through shuddering breaths, Patricia realized that her aunt was all she had now since she was an orphan.

An orphan. Where before, her mother had never let her feel the absence of a father because she had taken the duty of being both a mother and father for her, now she had no one except for her aunt. After a few moments, her aunt released her and they both looked at each other. Genevieve broke the silence first.

"Th-the funeral is today in an hour and a half," her aunt stuttered, sniffling and wiping away her tears. Patricia only nodded silently before turning around and walking back to her room numbly.

She closed the door behind her, looking around her room blankly. Everything was so silent-dead-and she felt like she was being crushed under the weight of her grief. She collapsed on her bed with her face in her hands as she let out a muffled scream, breaking the overwhelming silence.

She cried for a whole hour, holding a picture frame containing a picture of her and her mother, before a quiet knock came from her door. A part of her didn’t want to answer so she would be left alone. But the other part of her wanted the company of her mother’s sister, if only for a sense of familiarity.

"Come in," she answered in a low voice. Her voice sounded hoarse from screaming and crying, and she knew she looked worn out with her puffy and reddened eyes.

Her aunt came inside, taking in her appearance as she walked to her bed and silently sat down next to her. She gently took the picture frame from her hands, as if she were fragile and a stronger touch would end up breaking her. She looked at it once before putting it back where it belonged, on her bedside.

She sighed as she looked at her. "You know that your mother was a really strong woman. She wouldn't want to see you like this.” She paused, taking her hands in hers as she uncurled them from the fists they were in.

“Besides,” she continued, “she made me promise that I would take care of you, and I’m not going to break that. I’m here with you, sharing your grief, and I’m going to be here every step of the way.” She squeezed her hand, “I’m not going to leave you alone; you’re the only family I have. Now get up and freshen up. We have to leave for the funeral."

Patricia nodded silently, not having any words to reply. She got up and started to get ready as her aunt left the room. She would not cry anymore, she thought. Her aunt was, of course, right. Her mother wouldn't want to see her like this. She would have to be strong for her mother and her aunt, if not for herself.