The sharp scent of antiseptic filled the hospital corridor. Fluorescent lights glared down on the moving stretcher, wheels squeaking against the polished floor.
"Asher Sable, male, seventeen, multiple deep lacerations—possible blood loss trauma!" Melissa McCall's voice cut through the noise, calm but urgent. She pushed the stretcher herself, her hands steady even as her eyes flickered toward the boy bleeding beneath the white sheets. Another nurse kept pace beside her, barking quick updates.
Following behind were Erica, her face pale and streaked with tears, Scott and Stiles, who had arrived moments ago, and Allison, who hadn't left Scott's side since they got the call.
Scott's heart was pounding. Just five minutes ago, he and Allison had shared their first kiss after the match finished. And then — Stiles' panicked voice. "It's Asher. He's in the hospital. He's bad."
Now that moment felt like it belonged to another life.
Melissa glanced back at them as she neared the emergency doors. "Scott, you and the others wait here!" she ordered, not slowing her pace.
Scott stopped immediately, hands clenching into fists. Stiles exhaled shakily beside him, tension etched across his face. Allison's expression was tight with worry — Asher had always been kind to her, to everyone, even to Jackson.
The double doors swung shut behind Melissa, leaving only the muffled sound of frantic voices and the rhythmic beeping of machines.
Erica collapsed into one of the waiting chairs. Her hands shook as she buried her face in them, sobs breaking free in sharp, uneven breaths.
Scott, Stiles, and Allison exchanged helpless glances.
Even the most confident girl in school looked shattered now.
Stiles hesitated for a moment, then knelt beside her. "E-Erica…" he said softly, laying a hand on her shoulder. "What happened out there?"
He couldn't believe it was just a simple animal attack like his dad's report claimed. There had to be more. There always was.
Erica lifted her head slowly. Her eyes were red, her mascara streaked down her cheeks, her voice barely a whisper. "It's… it's all my fault…" she choked. "I—I'm a monst—"
"Stiles!"
The sharp voice cut her off. Sheriff Noah Stilinski strode into the waiting room, his presence immediate and commanding. Stiles flinched and stood up quickly.
"Dad, I was just trying to—"
"Not now," Noah said, his tone softening as he turned to Erica. She looked so small, so broken, sitting there under the harsh white lights.
"Erica," he said gently, crouching down in front of her. "Come with me, okay?"
Erica's lips trembled. "I didn't mean to… I swear… I didn't mean to—"
"Hey, hey…" Noah's voice softened further as he reached out and pulled her into a brief, comforting hug. "It's alright. You're safe now. Everything's gonna be alright, okay?"
But she didn't stop crying. The words couldn't reach her.
Noah sighed quietly, holding her a moment longer before helping her to her feet. "Come on," he murmured. "Let's get you out of here for a bit."
Erica followed him numbly, her hands still trembling, her sobs fading down the hall.
Scott, Stiles, and Allison stood in silence, the only sound the distant hum of hospital machines and the faint echo of Erica's last choked cry.
...
The bright lights of the emergency room burned white against the crimson that stained the floor. The air was thick with the smell of blood, a sharp, metallic scent that clung to everything.
"Asher Sable, seventeen, deep lacerations to the torso, possible internal damage!" Melissa barked, moving fast alongside two other nurses and a trauma surgeon. They cut away what was left of his shirt, revealing skin torn open in long, jagged slashes. His chest rose and fell in weak, uneven breaths.
"Pressure's dropping—get more saline in!" one of the nurses shouted.
"Clamp here—no, higher!" another responded, hands slick with blood as they pressed against the wound. The room was chaos, a blur of motion and urgency.
Then—silence.
One of the surgeons froze, eyes fixed on the open wound beneath the blood and gauze. His gloved hands hovered mid-air. "His… liver," he said, voice unsteady. "It's… it's split open."
Melissa's head jerked toward him. "What?"
Another doctor, pale-faced, was already checking the lower side of the abdomen. His eyes widened in disbelief. "And one of his kidneys… it's completely ruptured."
The first doctor swallowed hard, scanning again. "Even the other one…" His voice trailed off. Shock filled the air like static.
Melissa moved closer, her gloves trembling slightly. She shifted the light and looked at the right side of his chest. Her heart sank. "His right lung," she whispered. "It's torn through."
For a moment, no one spoke. The only sound was the steady beeping from the monitor beside him — beep… beep… beep…
Everyone turned toward it at once.
Melissa's eyes widened. The heart monitor — still showing a rhythm. Slow, weak, but there.
"He's still…" she breathed. "He's still alive."
The surgeon shook his head in disbelief. "That's impossible. With this kind of trauma—he shouldn't—"
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Each sound seemed louder, cutting through the stunned silence.
Melissa leaned closer, searching his face. His skin was deathly pale, blood still leaking from the torn flesh, and yet… he was breathing. Somehow.
And no one in the room could explain why.
To be continued...
***
***
How was this chapter? Liked it?
Just fractured my right hand by the way, I've written this chapter with Voice Transcript. Hope it wasn't too bad.