A siren rose me from my sleep. Strange faces, never before seen. A lady on the floor. Red flashing lights. I'm pushed back into bed. By unfamiliar hands. I hit the matress hard.

I'm picked up out of bed. Pant's pulled up, thrown into an ambulance. A siren. Red flashing lights. A lot of people talking

I see my mother for a second. I don't get a chance to ask her why she's crying

We hit a bump, I hear a shriek. A voice I know. My bones shake. I turn around, I see her face. Pale, fragile, tormented, distant.

A mask covers her face, her eyes are blury. She gags, and I turn away

In 89 seconds, I'm thrown out, I'm lost in a building. A bed is rushed into an elivator. I race after it. The door closes in my face. I am tired, and alone. I close my eyes, but I don't know where I am.

I hear a man, I open my eyes. He pulls me into an elevator. It takes forever, to get to the 8th floor.

No one is there, the clock says 4. The man brings me to a room, filled with doctors and a bed.

There is organised chaos, people running, people yelling, a loud beeping.

I see my mothe, running towards me. She pushes me out of the room, into a white hall. With a row of white chairs. No one is sitting there. I sit down. She leaves. Silence.

I wait alone, sometimes someone will run past. I am scared to ask them anything. I sit in silence. Forever.

I am alone. I have no one to call. No one to ask. No one.

I am brought a coffee, by my uncle. When did he get here? He brings me back to the elevator. On the way we pass the room.

My whole family is here, the room hasn't changed. No one notices me passing.

My uncle puts me in the car and drives me back to my grandmother's house. He drops me off, and drives away. He didn't say anything.

I don't want to go into the house, I don't want to see that my grandmother is not here. I don't want to know that the face I saw in the ambulance was hers. I don't want to believe, she's gone.