“Possible internal bleeding from the fall,” another replied.
“Prep theatre,” the first doctor commanded.
Jerry’s heart dropped.
“The theatre?” That word sounded like danger.
The nurses ran with Elelliana through double doors.
Jerry tried to follow, but a staff member stopped him.
“You can’t enter,” she said firmly. “Wait here.”
Jerry stood in the hallway, breathing hard. His chest rose fast like he had swallowed fear.
His hands were still in the shape of holding her. His arms felt empty.
The hallway suddenly felt too quiet.
He looked down at himself—mud-stained shirt, worn slippers—and for the first time since he began running, he remembered what he looked like to people.
A dirty homeless man. A man nobody trusted. A man people avoided.
But he pushed that thought away.
He stared at the theatre doors like his eyes could keep Elelliana alive.
Minutes passed like hours.
Then the doors opened.
A doctor came out wearing green scrubs and a serious expression.
