I was walking down the spotless corridors of the hospital, humming a tune to myself and trying to find a just reason for the words of my doctor. I was quite disgusted at having to stay in the hospital but my doctor insisted that I be kept under observation to prevent me from getting a blackout again.

"Miss Lytton," doctor Phillip had warned me," Your mind is in a very fragile state and anything can happen if you stress it further. We will keep you here one more day and run a few tests to observe you. You can leave tomorrow."

Fragile state huh! My nerves were just falling to pieces. I was on the edge of a cliff. One misstep and I could fall into the endless gorge of mental instability. I could end up losing my mental balance. But on the other side was a steep mountain. The hurdle which I had to cross to get to my goal of realising and remembering those lost days. I had to just try to scale the mountain but avoid coming too close to the edge. That was tough.

The letter in the attic was a trigger. Guess I needed something familiar to bring back further memories. But what? I just needed to know if he was alive. There are answers out there. I just need to find the right thing to evoke my memories.

"What are you thinking so deeply? Didn't doc warn you? You never listen to anyone," my mother chided.

The words of Dr Philips seemed to ring in my ears," You need to stop trying to bring forth memories by force. Let them come by themselves. I propose, don't try to hunt for lost memories, at least for a few days. Those could adversely affect your healing process."

"It's not as easy as it looks," I had said, "They come automatically and overwhelm me. These memories hardly need some triggering factor. But I will try. Maybe music therapy will help."

My doctor had agreed and so here I was still under observation and I had put on my best behaviour the whole day so that they couldn't deny me my discharge the next day.

Walking down the halls with hustle and bustle all around , I could notice the wards boys and nurses running, some with stretchers and others with wheelchairs. There was a picture of urgency and sadness mixed with a feeling of hopelessness everywhere.

Passing by the operation theatre block, I heard the pleading cries of a female voice. I couldn't but help peep in through the glass doors, inspite of my mother's constant irritation.

The scene that greeted me was a lady in her mid forties, crying uncontrollably in front of a doctor in a white coat, who was desperately trying to calm her down. The lady was hysterical and what I could guess from the conversation was that, her husband had suffered from an accident and was going to undergo a surgery and there was 5 percent chance of recovery. She wanted the doctor to bring back her soulmate at all costs. I felt bad for her but I couldn't do anything, just stood there looking at the kind of love which exists, so intense, so pure.

And then suddenly it was as if I got a jolt of electricity was passing through my body. Along with it came a crippling pain in every nerve, every muscle, every fibre of my body. It was as if the world was going to end. My body shook vigorously and all I could hear was my mother's scream, before the darkness closed in around me, engulfing me in the world of my nightmares.

I am sitting on a bench in a hall. Everything is so quiet that I am a bit afraid. I look at my hands, covered with mud and blood, bruised and chapped, but I am in no condition to pay attention to myself.

I look around to see the red light in front of the OT door glowing, as if warning me of the danger to his life.

I remember my condition as I went from door to door begging for help. Most people were selfish and mean. They just refused to come to the street at that wee hour of the night. I was desperate and crying like mad by the time I had reached the last house at the corner of the street.

The man of the house took pity on me and agreed to even help carry Dmitriy. Between us we carried him to their house and then to the ambulance. I was praying all that time to save my one and only love. I didn't know if God would hear my prayers.

Now I am sitting outside the Operation theatre while Dmitriy is being operated on. The last I checked his pulse it was just barely felt. He has lost a lot of blood.

As far as I know he will probably need a transfusion, provided he survives. The doctors have promised me two percent chance of saving him. The blood loss has taken it's toll on him.

Doctors fear there is internal haemorrhage and that his vital organs are affected. He may go for a cardiac arrest anytime, even before or during the operation. There is very little hope. But I was clinging to that one ray of hope with a prayer on my lips.

My hands shake badly as I try to get a grip on my fears and worries. I am too shocked for words. Surprisingly my eyes are dry. I have not cried for many hours when I should have been screaming to the height of craziness.

Guess when sorrow is more intense, tears dry up. I was at my wits end to know what to do. My phone is ringing.

'MOM CALLING'

I throw down the phone on the bench in frustration. I was responsible for all that has happened to him. I guess there are some tough choices to be made. I just have to be bold enough.

The light above the door flickers and goes off. The doctor with a serious face comes out removing his mask and gloves. I rush up to him and forgetting all basic courtesies, hold his hand and look at him unable to speak. I am shaking badly with nervousness. My eyes speak the questions for me.

"Is he okay? Will he live? The operation..."

I could barely whisper these words. I looked expectantly at the doctor for an answer, hoping against hope that Dmitriy is still alive.

A/N I am continuing the story as I promised. This story will go far beyond 8K.

Please read and vote and place your valuable feedback.

Thanks to MaryFahey for being with me in every step.

Thanks to my friends, my readers and...you all really mean the world to me...
nana_gn....Pipigrin
teamhathaway .