Flames of love and war

Lauren's POV

“I’ll be blunt, Miss Lauren. Your mother’s condition is very serious. We have done everything we can, but the situation is delicate. It’s a matter of whether she’ll survive the night.”

My heart dropped. The words were hopeless, but I ignored them. “What does that mean? Please, is there anything you can do? Any surgery? A treatment?”

My mother's frail hand was firmly clutched in mine as I sat in her hospital room. The beeping of the machine and the antiseptic smell made me nauseous.

The doctor paused, his fingers tapping on his clipboard. “There is something we can try, but…” He trailed off, clearly hesitant. “It’s a rare procedure. Expensive. And honestly, it’s… it’s a risk. But if you want to give her a chance, you’ll have to pay upfront. The cost is...”

I leaned forward, my grip on my mother's hand tightening.

“How much?” I asked, impatiently interrupting him. “Please tell me, I need to know.”

His gaze shifted toward the papers in front of him. “Five hundred thousand dollars. It’s an emergency procedure, and the hospital doesn’t typically cover costs like these unless you can prove…”

“Five hundred thousand?” My head was spinning. How on earth was I supposed to come up with that amount of money? I had saved up, but not nearly enough for something like this. “I don’t have that much.”

“Then I suggest you start finding ways to arrange for the funds.” His tone was firm, as he looked at me through his sterile glasses. "There’s no time to waste. If you truly want your mother to survive this, the payment is required immediately.”

As I sat there, trying to process the doctor's words, I couldn't help but think about my father. If he hadn’t run away with his new wife and daughter, I might have been able to call him for help. He had the money…he always did. But he had chosen to leave us, abandoning me and my mother for a younger woman and her perfect daughter. The same people who had poisoned my mother and landed her in the hospital.

I pushed the thoughts aside, focusing on my mother. I had to save her, no matter what it took. Tears pricked at the corner of my eyes as I stared at her pale face.

"Please," I said, looking up at the doctor. "Can you tell me more about this procedure? What are the chances it will work?"

The doctor nodded, launching into a more detailed explanation of the procedure. I listened intently, trying to absorb every word.

Finally, the doctor stood up, his expression somber. "I'm afraid that's all I can tell you for now, Miss Lauren. We'll need to discuss the details of the procedure further, but for now, I need to attend to other patients."

I nodded, feeling a sense of despair. I stood up, smoothing out my mother's blanket.

"I'll be right back, Mom," I whispered, kissing her forehead and walking out of the hospital room, my mind racing with thoughts of the procedure and how I could afford it. The fluorescent lights in the hallway seemed to hum in sync with my headache.

As I walked to my beat up car, the fresh air hit me like a well needed reprieve, in the face. I took a deep breath, trying to clear my head. The sounds of cars driving by and people chatting happily was like background noise to me.

My vision was blurred with tears as I climbed the stairs towards the tiny apartment complex my mother and I had called home since my father walked out.

When I reached my door, I stopped abruptly. It was ajar. My heart pounded and I felt a chine run down my spine as I stared at the opened door. Someone had broken into our home.

Swallowing hard, I pushed the door open. I hesitated for a moment, but something compelled me to move forward.

“Hello?” I called out, my voice trembling.

No response.

Every instinct screamed at me to turn around and run, but I couldn't. I was paralysed with fear.

I stepped further inside, inching toward the living room. The air was thick and heavy and ominous. Something was terribly wrong.

Just then, I heard a loud banging sound.

I covered my mouth to muffle the shocked gasp that escaped my throat. That was the sound of a gunshot.

I should leave now and call the police.

I thought and turned around.

But my breath hitched as I saw someone standing behind me.

"Well, well, an intruder."

His gruff voice declared.

He was blocking the way out.

I ran into the living room, having nowhere else to go and the sight before me nearly brought me to my knees.

Two bulky men in dark suits stood there, their broad backs turned to me. They loomed over something…or someone…on the floor.

One of them adjusted his tie, while the other wiped his hands with a white handkerchief now stained red.

Between them was the lifeless body of my father.

He had a hole punctured right through the centre of his head.

The pool of blood beneath him spread across the faded carpet, the metallic smell making my stomach churn.

Before I could react, one of the men turned toward me, his expression calm and unnervingly inhuman.

"Look who walked in on the fun," he said, his voice smooth yet cold.

The other man smirked, pulling something from his jacket; a sleek black gun.

"Wait…please, don't kill me, I beg you."

I started, but the words barely left my mouth before I felt a sharp sting in my shoulder. I looked down to find a pin like object lodged in my skin.

"What the…"

The world began to blur, my vision darkening as my knees gave way under me and I collapsed to the floor in a heap.

“Take her,” one of the men said, his voice fading as the numbness took over my mind.