The Facility

My back slumped against the wall behind me, as I slid down to a seated position on my bum, tucking my knees into my chest and losing all strength in my hands, my phone falling to the cool tile floor of the bathroom I was in.

I got the call from Jessika late last night and drove through the night to get here.

When I finally pushed open the door to the ICU room early the next morning, the sight that greeted me stopped me dead in my tracks.

The room was quiet except for the steady beeping of machines and the soft hiss of the ventilator. Andrea lay motionless in the hospital bed — still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, even like this. Long black hair fanned across the white pillow, her face peaceful but pale, tubes and wires connected to her body. I found myself greeted by a sight that simultaneously broke my heart and filled it with a warmth that brought tears to my eyes.

There, nestled in the hospital bed beside Andrea, tiny and fragile, was Jessika. My sweet little bestie had somehow tucked herself into the narrow bed with Andrea. But it was the way she held onto her that truly had me sobbing fresh tears – for she had taken Andrea’s lifeless arm and draped it protectively around herself, as if seeking to shield her from the harsh realities of that sterile room.

The gesture was so simple, so innocent, and yet it spoke volumes about how much Andrea actually meant to Jess, how deeply she cared for her as a maternal figure in her life. I felt a surge of love and gratitude wash over me, knowing that even in her weakened state, Andrea was still able to provide solace and support to those who needed it most.

I quietly kicked off my shoes and walked over to the bed. I leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Andrea’s forehead, then brushed a strand of hair from Jessika’s face. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake, just snuggled closer into Andrea with a tiny, contented sigh.

I climbed carefully onto the other side of the bed, spooning Andrea from behind and wrapping my arms around both of them. For a long time I just lay there, holding the girls, listening to the machines and trying not to cry.

“Andr… M-Mommy… It’s Brandy. “I need you to fight for me, Mommy,” I whispered against Andrea’s hair. “We need you. Jessika needs you.”

When Jessika finally woke to find me in the bed beside them, our reunion was nothing short of devastating.

A few days passed in a haze of hospital visits, whispered conversations, and the suffocating wait for CT scan results. Then, finally — mercifully — the news we had all been praying for arrived. Andrea was brought out of her induced coma with no head trauma whatsoever, aside from a mild concussion and nasty seatbelt bruise.

We knew immediately that she was back to her old self when she learned from the police how the collision had actually happened, and she offered this nugget of wisdom:

“So, you’re telling me… it’s not enough of a broadcast to the world that you have a small penis by driving a red sports car… you also have to announce you have a micro-penis, by doing 46 km/h over the speed limit?”

The police officer taking her statement let out a laugh and gave her a knowing nod. He confirmed it had been some chooch in a red Camaro, travelling at nearly double the posted speed limit when he lost control and slammed into another vehicle — sending it careening into the side of Andrea’s truck.

Andrea couldn’t remember seeing or hearing anything after the impact. Even now, Jess and me thought she was still a bit confused, for after the officer had left the room, she kept quietly telling Jessika and me the same thing:

An angel had been holding her hand the entire time.

She said she couldn’t make out a face — only a silhouette — but the angel never let go of her hand.

This has been Brandy.

Signing off for now.

Disclaimer: All text prompts going into A.I. systems to create some of the content of this story along with requests for A.I. images appearing in this story, clearly state that everyone involved is an ADULT, above the legal age of consent.