The call came like a gunshot. My phone vibrated violently in my hand, the officer's voice cutting through the fragile calm I had clung to for the past twenty-four hours.
"Ma'am... we found her. Alive."
The words barely registered before my stomach dropped, twisting with relief and terror in equal measure. Alive. But... what had she endured?
I bolted from the apartment, breath ragged, the city around me blurring into streaks of asphalt and light. Every stoplight felt like a countdown, every honk a warning. My mind raced with every nightmare I had conjured over the last day.
The police station was a blur. Officers guided me toward the hospital, murmuring what little they could. "She's in critical condition... ICU..."
When I arrived, the sterile white walls of the hospital seemed unreal, too clean to contain the horror I knew awaited. A doctor stepped forward, clipboard in hand, his expression grave.
"Sepharine Dutt?"
I nodded, voice caught in my throat.
"She's stable for now," he began, carefully. "But her injuries are severe. She was restrained, assaulted, and in the struggle to escape, sustained multiple lacerations, bruising across her body, fractures... She's on high observation. ICU. Pain management is ongoing. She's alive, but it was... brutal."
I felt my knees weaken. My mind screamed, my heart hammering. Alive... yet broken. My best friend, the one who had laughed and teased, the one who had been my anchor through so much, now lying in a room I could barely enter.
They led me to the ICU. I caught sight of her through the glass—hair disheveled, pale, yet unmistakably Nehra. Tubes and monitors adorned her fragile frame, each beep a heartbeat I prayed would keep going. Bruises darkened her skin like shadows, cuts along her arms, shoulders, and legs telling stories of struggle and terror.
I pressed my hand against the glass, willing her to hear me. "You're safe now," I whispered. "You're safe, Nehra."
The doctor stepped aside. "We'll need someone to act as her guardian for treatment decisions. That's why we called you."
I swallowed the lump in my throat. Guardian. Protector. Friend. Every title felt inadequate against the horror I had just seen.
I stayed by the glass, silently vowing that whatever it took—justice, protection, vigilance—I would not leave her alone again. Not now, not ever.