200 joules, charge.
300 joules, charge.
That's all I can hear. Everything else fades into a blur. The doctors' voices sound like distant whispers—barely audible. I can't make out their words, only fragments that seem more like echoes or figments of my imagination.
My mind spins—are these flashbacks, or am I just dreaming?
---
FLASHBACK
"Daddy, we've already discussed this. I've submitted the application. Please, just open the door," my mom said, visibly frustrated. It was the same conversation repeated over and over again.
She stepped out of the vehicle, opened the backseat, and helped me out. I carried a small backpack and a large bag filled with my belongings.
We walked to the front of the house as the cab driver unloaded the rest of our luggage before pulling away.
In front of the house stood a black Toyota Camry, a big orange tree, and, off to one side, a mango tree heavy with fruit, Sounds of birds chirping. A neatly mowed lawn stretched across the yard, with a water tank in the middle. Flowers lined the front entrance, adding a splash of color.
My grandfather appeared at the doorway, his phone in one hand, his other hand raised slightly in greeting. He didn't say a word.
His house, though old, was tidy and inviting. The citrusy scent from the orange tree filled the air. The house was way bigger than the small room and parlor I used to live in with my mom, always look upsidedown due to early going to work and late coming of my mom.
I was still admiring the surroundings when my grandfather's husky voice pierced the quiet.
"Don't make mistakes again, Pricillia!"
"I'm not—"
"Daddy, I promise to always send money—"
"And do I look like I'm suffering?" he snapped back.
My mom turned to me, her voice softening. She knelt and kissed my forehead.
"Mom loves you, okay?"
"Yes, ma'am," I replied.
"That's my girl. And remember—you promised to always behave. Now go inside that room. I need to speak with Grandpa," she said, pointing to a room near the living area.
I walked into the house and sat quietly on the already-made bed. Beside it was a reading table, a small chair, and a shoe rack. A big old wardrobe stood at the front of the room. On the wall were photos of my mom, my Auntie Praise, and Uncle Promise.
Curious, I tried to eavesdrop.
"You expect me to raise a child? At my age?" Grandpa said.
"She's not a baby, Daddy. She's mature for her age—quiet and well-behaved. You'll barely notice she's around. It won't be difficult," Mom said, trying to convince him.
"Leaving your child for a man? You made your choices, and now you want me to clean up the mess? Your mother died while you were still a teenager, you know how it felt, and now you expect her to go through all that ?"
"I'm trying to build a better future for both of us. I'm not abandoning her. I'll send money regularly, and I'll visit often. it's my only chance to provide her with a better life," she pleaded.
There was silence for a moment, then Grandpa muttered, "this is the cost of getting yourself pregnant before marriage."
I heard the old man sigh deeply.
"I know I've made mistakes in the past, and I regret them. That's why I want to make things right," she said, her voice breaking into sobs.
"So you won't change your mind?"he said giving up,Mom nodded. "Just make sure you visit often "
"Thank you, Daddy. I love you." She hugged him tightly and wiped her tears. Then she called, "Ayoola, come say goodbye."
I rushed out of the room and hugged her. She knelt, held me close, and whispered,
"I'll be back soon."
---
END OF FLASHBACK
That was the last time I saw my mom.
I never knew my father, and the only person who's ever been there for me since then is in front of me lifeless.
I stared blankly at the doctor as he filled out grandpa death certificate. I could see the nurse's mouth moving, but I couldn't hear anything—just silence.
I don't know how to process all this.
My body feels weightless. My limbs are numb. I can't speak, can't blink. My ears don't pick up sound anymore. My mind is empty, and my heart—silent.
Worst of it all "I CAN'T CRY"
Am I also dead?