When I first saw the little girl pushing through the emergency room  doors, I honestly thought she was playing a game.

The wheelbarrow appeared before she did.

Its rusted front wheel screeched against the polished  hospital floor, carrying with it the smell of wet earth, old rain, and dried blood.

Then she came into view.

She couldn’t have been more than seven.

She was barefoot and trembling, her cracked heels leaving tiny red marks across the tiles.

“Please help,” she whispered.

Her voice was so hoarse that the words almost disappeared.

“My little siblings won’t wake up.”

For a moment, the entire emergency room seemed to freeze.

It wasn’t because we didn’t care.

Babies & Toddlers

Sometimes the human mind simply refuses to understand horror when it arrives in the shape of a  child.

My hand stopped above the telephone.

A man waiting for stitches stopped bouncing his leg.

Behind the reception desk, the printer continued spitting out admission forms, completely unaware that something terrible had just walked through our doors.

Then one of the nurses ran toward her.

Biological Sciences

The wheelbarrow was battered, filthy, and far too big for such a tiny child.

Inside, wrapped in a faded yellow sheet, were two newborn babies.

Twins.

Their faces were unnaturally pale.