Alexander Day Three

The sterile glare of hospital lights hummed overhead, casting shadows over the girl's fragile form. She couldn't have been older than sixteen—her knuckles bone-white as she clawed at the sheets, her face contorted into a mask of agony. Sweat-drenched hair clung to her temples, tears carving glistening trails through the flush of her cheeks. A heart wrenching sob tore from her throat, raw and primal, as the nurses' voices sounding around her.

"Push, push, push!" The command came again, sharp and fraying, from a nurse whose gloved hands trembled just slightly

At the center of it all her frail body wracked with exhaustion. She should have been beautiful—soft features, bright eyes full of dreams—but pain had stolen everything from her. Sweat clung to her ashen skin, her face streaked with tears and snot, her lips trembling with silent prayers that no one seemed to hear.