"Felzein!"
Melati's cry fractured the heavy air, sharp with panic as she darted forward, her breath catching in her throat, her face drawn with dread.
She dropped to her knees beside Felzein's still form, her movements swift, urgent, laced with desperation.
Her eyes roamed his face, searching pleading for any sign, however faint, that life still stirred within him.
"Felzein… Can you hear me…?" she murmured, her voice barely more than a breath, as her trembling fingers sought the pulse at his wrist. Fragile, fleeting, but vital.
Behind her, Rosa remained rooted to the spot, transfixed by horror.
Her limbs refused to move, locked in place by a guilt so profound it eclipsed the present moment.
Her eyes stared, wide and empty, like windows thrown open to a storm.
"Ocha! Help me! Now!" Melati shouted, her voice cracking, ringing through the sterile silence with a force that snapped Rosa back into the world.
She blinked, a gasp escaping her lips, as though she had surfaced from a drowning dream.
"I-I'm coming!" she stammered, her voice hoarse with fear.
Rosa dropped to the ground beside Melati, her hands trembling as they mirrored her friend's, feeling for a heartbeat, searching for breath.
Her face, stricken with dread and buried regret, hovered close to his, desperate for the smallest sign of life.
"Felzein! Felzein!" she called again, her voice breaking, the name now a plea, a prayer.
But he remained still, deathly still. No flicker of an eyelid, no lift of the chest.
Only the cold weight of silence pressing down on them, deeper and more absolute with every second that passed.
"Mel! Check him again! Please, hurry!" Rosa's voice cracked, thick with panic, her eyes shimmering as they clung to the unmoving figure sprawled before them.
"I'm on it," Melati replied, her voice a strained whisper of resolve as she wrestled the mounting fear within her.
She bent low once more, hands trembling only slightly as she reached for the side of Felzein's neck, fingers gently probing for a pulse.
Her touch was practiced, but her heart pounded like a drum against her ribs.
Felzein lay still, too still. His body sprawled across the sterile tiles, limbs slack, as though all the vitality had been siphoned from him.
A silence surrounded him, not the peace of rest, but the hush of absence. Of dread.
"Felzein! Felzein, please, wake up!" Rosa cried out again, her voice breaking under the weight of rising despair.
Still, he did not stir. No flicker of breath. No flutter of eyelids.
Melati shifted, kneeling at his opposite side, her hands moving with desperate intent.
She tapped his cheeks, firm yet careful, "Felzein, can you hear me? If you can, give us a sign! Anything!"
Silence.
Rosa drew in a sharp breath, forcing back the tremor in her limbs, "I'll check his airway and pulse," she said, her tone taut with urgency.
Melati nodded, her fingers already working at the buttons of Felzein's collar, loosening it to give Rosa room to examine.
Rosa leaned in close, her ear brushing against his lips, her gaze fixed on his chest, searching for even the faintest rise, the most fragile breath.
Nothing.
"No airflow..." she murmured, her throat tightening.
Melati's fingers sought the carotid pulse again, still no rhythm beneath her touch.
A cold dread wrapped around them, but Rosa's training surged to the surface. There was no time for fear.
She moved with quiet precision, positioning herself beside Felzein. Interlacing her fingers, she placed the heels of her palms firmly upon the centre of his chest.
Then she began.
"One, two, three…" she counted aloud, each number a lifeline flung into the silence, each compression a plea.
The laboratory, once a haven of science and discovery, now echoed only with the rhythm of her hands and the fragile hope that somewhere, deep within, Felzein was still listening.
Melati took over with practised swiftness, her movements guided by resolve rather than panic.
She gently tilted Felzein's head back, fingers cradling the curve of his jaw as she lifted his chin, ensuring the airway was unobstructed.
Then, with the calm desperation of someone who refuses to surrender, she pinched his nose, sealed her lips over his, and breathed life into him.
Once, twice, watching intently as his chest rose and fell with each breath.
They fell into a rhythm. Steady. Urgent. Thirty compressions, two breaths. Again and again.
Their actions mechanical, almost sacred. Two lives trying to summon back a third.
After the second cycle, Melati leaned down once more, fingers searching at his neck with trembling precision.
"Still nothing!" she cried, her voice cracking under the strain.
Rosa did not falter. She slid into place with grim determination, and Melati stepped back without missing a beat.
Now it was her turn to press down upon Felzein's chest, arms locked, shoulders braced, each compression driving a silent plea into his still heart.
Meanwhile, Rosa's gaze flicked to the scorched palm that had touched the fatal glass.
The skin there was blistering now. Red, raw, and angry beneath the lab's harsh light.
Without a word, she darted to the wall-mounted first aid kit.
Her hands, though shaking, found gauze and antiseptic, and she returned to his side, unwrapping the dressing with careful fingers.
She pressed the gauze gently against the wound, mindful not to worsen it, as though her tenderness might somehow coax him back to life.
And through it all, Melati's voice broke the silence, not in command, but in whispered defiance.
Her eyes did not leave his face as she breathed the words like a prayer and a challenge both.
"Don't you dare die here... not like this. You stubborn, impossible man…"
Another cycle. Then another. And another.
Suddenly, Rosa's breath caught sharply in her throat, "Wait… his chest! It moved."
Melati halted, her heart pounding as they both leaned closer, breath held tight in the fragile stillness.
There it was an almost imperceptible rise and fall, a whisper of breath that brushed the air.
A faint pulse, elusive yet unmistakable, stirring at Felzein's neck.
"He's breathing…" Rosa whispered, voice trembling with a flood of relief, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
Melati lowered her head, resting her cheek softly against his face, feeling the gentle warmth return where moments before there was only cold.
"You're back… you obstinate, brilliant fool," she breathed, a fragile smile playing on her lips.
Rosa stayed vigilant, cradling his head with tender care, ensuring the fragile airway remained clear.
"We're not done yet. He must hold on."
And so they remained, steadfast sentinels in the quiet room, watching over the fragile ember of life rekindling within Felzein.
Undaunted, unyielding, refusing to let the silence reclaim its dominion.