The air in the hospital room felt thick, heavy with the scent of antiseptic and the soft hum of machines. Laura sat beside Kat's bed, absently smoothing her daughter's blanket as she watched her sleep. The steady rise and fall of Kat's chest should have been reassuring, but something was off.

Kat's skin looked flushed, her breathing a little too fast, too shallow. Laura reached out, gently brushing damp strands of hair away from Kat's forehead, only to stop abruptly. Her skin was burning.

"Kat?" Laura whispered, her heart pounding as she cupped her daughter's face. The heat against her palm was undeniable. Kat stirred slightly at her mother's touch, but there was no real response—just a soft, incoherent murmur.

Laura turned sharply toward the hallway. "Nurse!" she called, her voice urgent but not panicked. Within seconds, a nurse stepped inside, her expression immediately shifting to concern as she took in Kat's flushed skin.

"She's burning up," Laura said, barely keeping the fear from her voice.

The nurse nodded, already reaching for a thermometer. "Let's check her temperature," she said calmly, slipping the device into Kat's ear. A few moments passed before the thermometer beeped. The nurse's expression tightened.

"102.4," she murmured. "That's high."

Laura swallowed hard, her gaze flicking back to Kat's face. Her daughter's eyelids fluttered, her lips slightly parted as though she wanted to speak but couldn't form the words. The fever was pulling her further away, making her even more trapped in a body she barely controlled.

"She's been more agitated today," Laura admitted, brushing her hand along Kat's arm. "I thought it was just frustration, but now..."

The nurse nodded. "Fevers can make neurological symptoms worse. It could be why she's struggling more." She adjusted the blanket, making sure Kat wasn't overheating.

But Kat wasn't calming down. A low whimper escaped her lips, her hand twitching against the sheets. The fever wasn't just making her weak—it was making her angry.

Kat's body shook, her frustration boiling over as she struggled against the invisible barriers of her own body. Her movements were jerky, uncoordinated, and each attempt to move only seemed to deepen her confusion. Her breathing was shallow, quick, and panicked, her eyes wide with an unsettling mix of fear and desperation.

"It's okay, sweetie," Laura whispered, her voice thick with worry as she leaned down, pressing her palm against Kat's forehead. The heat radiating from her daughter was alarming, but the worry in Laura's heart was twhat really madei her stomach drop. "It's alright, baby girl. I'm right here."

But Kat's body wasn't listening. With a frantic lunge, her hand brushed against the water jug, sending it crashing to the floor. The sound of the glass shattering and the water splashing across the tray only made Kat squirm more, her limbs thrashing weakly as she tried to move. Her arms, though limited in their movement due to paralysis, flailed against the soft bedding, and it was clear that she couldn't stop herself.

Her hands, shaking and unsteady, moved toward her face, and in the process, she accidentally struck her cheek. The sudden pain made her gasp, and then she let out a strangled cry. Her face crumpled in confusion, and tears welled in her eyes, the helplessness of her situation overwhelming her. She tried to call out, but no words came—only a sound of distress, her face contorted in a mixture of pain and confusion.

The sight of her daughter so out of control nearly broke Laura. Her heart ached as she watched Kat cry, her emotions torn between a desperate need to soothe her and the harsh reality that she couldn't stop the spiral of frustration and confusion.

"We need to restrain her," the nurse said, her voice steady and calm, though her eyes showed concern. "For her own safety."

Laura nodded quickly, her hand still gently brushing Kat's cheek. "Okay... okay, I know," she whispered, her voice strained as she tried to hold back her tears. With a deep breath, she helped the nurse gently adjust Kat's arms, guiding them carefully into soft restraints.

The straps were firm but not painful, their material smooth as they wrapped around Kat's wrists, holding her arms in place. Laura's fingers trembled as she tightened the straps, adjusting the restraint until Kat's arms were securely held against the bed. Kat let out a small, pitiful whimper, the action only deepening her confusion and agitation.

Kat's body tensed in the restraints, her breath hitching as she realized she couldn't move her arms. Her eyes darted between Laura and the nurse, the panic increasing as her limbs remained immobile. She squirmed in frustration, the feeling of helplessness overwhelming her as she fought against the straps, her cries growing more frantic.

"Shh, sweetie, it's okay," Laura whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from Kat's damp forehead. Her voice was a soft plea for her daughter to calm down, but the nurse quickly stepped in, her movements efficient as she reached for the medication tray.

The doctor entered the room, his calm presence grounding the moment. His eyes flicked between Kat and the nurse before he spoke. "She's too agitated. Sedate her?"

The nurse gave a firm nod. "Yes. Let's calm her down before she exhausts herself or gets hurt."

The doctor exhaled quietly and turned his focus to the small glass vial in his hand. With practiced ease, he flipped off the cap and inserted the needle into the vial, drawing back the plunger slowly. The amber-colored liquid filled the syringe, a faint bubble forming at the top before he flicked the barrel with his finger. A tiny droplet beaded at the tip of the needle.

"Hold her still," he instructed softly.

Laura swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around Kat's restrained hand. "It's okay, baby," she murmured, though her voice wavered.

The nurse gently pressed down on Kat's arm to keep it steady. Kat's skin was warm—too warm—her body trembling beneath their touch. Her wide, frantic eyes locked onto the syringe, but before she could react, the doctor leaned in and pressed the needle against the soft flesh of her forearm.

A tiny pinch. Barely more than a prick.

Kat let out a soft, confused whimper as the doctor pushed the plunger down, injecting the sedative into her weakened body. The medication flowed into her veins, and almost instantly, a change began.

Her breathing, once shallow and rapid, started to slow. The fight in her arms weakened. Her fingers twitched against the restraints, a sluggish attempt at resistance, but it was useless. The energy drained from her body like water slipping through fingers, her muscles going slack, her limbs falling limp against the bed.

The frantic squirming ceased. The only movement left was the slow rise and fall of her chest.

For a brief moment, the room was eerily quiet.

Laura let out a shaky breath, her free hand coming to rest gently on Kat's arm. The warmth of her daughter's skin was still there, but the tension was gone. The desperation. The struggle.

A sob caught in Laura's throat as she leaned down, pressing a kiss against Kat's forehead. "I'm so sorry, baby," she whispered, tears slipping down her face. "I never wanted this for you."

The silence in the room was heavy, broken only by the soft hum of medical monitors. Kat's body lay still now, the restraints no longer tested, her muscles slack under the weight of the sedative. But her skin remained flushed, her breathing uneven.

The nurse glanced at the doctor. "Her temperature's still high. She's probably in pain. Should we give her something to help?"

The doctor nodded, already reaching for another vial. "Good idea. The fever itself could be making her more distressed. I'll get some ibuprofen into her system—liquid form, through her IV. It should help bring the fever down and ease any discomfort."

As he prepared the medication, the nurse turned to Laura, offering a reassuring but serious look. "Fevers are harder on Kat now. Her body doesn't regulate temperature as well as it used to, and high fevers can make her more irritable, more disoriented. Sometimes, neurological symptoms worsen when the fever spikes. That's why she was so out of control just now—her brain's struggling to process everything properly."

Laura swallowed hard, her gaze drifting to Kat's face. Even in sedation, she looked flushed and exhausted, her delicate features tense in a way that made Laura's heart ache.

"So... this could keep happening?" Laura's voice wavered.

The nurse hesitated before answering. "It's possible. We'll do everything we can to manage it, but fevers will affect her differently now. It might lead to more episodes like this."

Laura blinked back tears as she reached for Kat's restrained hand, her fingers gently stroking the warm skin. The straps around Kat's wrists were snug but not harsh, a safety measure rather than a punishment. Yet it still hurt to see her like this—helpless, vulnerable, unable to understand what was happening to her own body.

"Oh, baby..." Laura whispered, her voice thick with emotion. She patted Kat's hand softly, the rhythmic motion more to comfort herself than her daughter.

The doctor finished preparing the medication and moved to Kat's IV line, carefully injecting the pain reliever into the port. "This should help bring her fever down over the next hour," he said gently. "She might sleep for a while now."

Laura nodded, blinking rapidly to keep herself from breaking down completely. She hated this. Hated seeing Kat suffer, hated that something as simple as a fever could throw her daughter's fragile world into chaos.

She sniffled and squeezed Kat's hand, even though her daughter couldn't squeeze back. "Mommy's here, sweetheart," she whispered. "I've got you."

The nurse placed a comforting hand on Laura's shoulder. "We'll monitor her closely. She's going to be okay."

Laura nodded again, but deep down, she couldn't shake the weight pressing against her chest.

Nothing about this felt okay.

The nurse exhaled softly, watching Kat's now-limp form. "She's completely relaxed now," she said gently. "I think we can take the restraints off."

Laura's head snapped up, her eyes already brimming with emotion. "Yes," she breathed, barely waiting for the nurse to finish speaking before she moved. "Let's get these off her."

Her hands flew to the first strap around Kat's wrist, fumbling as she tried to loosen it. The buckle was snug, and her fingers, trembling with urgency, struggled to find the right grip. She huffed in frustration, tugging at it, but it wouldn't budge fast enough.

"Come on," she whispered desperately, blinking rapidly as her vision blurred with tears. "I've got you, sweetheart, I promise—"

"Let me help you, Laura," the nurse said softly, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder.

Laura hesitated, her chest rising and falling quickly, before she nodded, stepping back just enough for the nurse to take over. Within seconds, the strap came loose, freeing Kat's wrist from its restraint.

Laura immediately reached for Kat's other arm, her hands still shaking as she undid the second strap. This time, it gave way easily, and as soon as it was off, she gently took Kat's hand in hers, cradling it as if it were made of glass.

Kat didn't react.

Her fingers lay limp in Laura's grasp, her arm resting heavily on the bed. Her breathing was slow and deep, her body utterly still except for the faint rise and fall of her chest.

Laura's throat tightened as she looked at her daughter's face. Kat's eyes were open—barely—but they held no focus, no recognition. The vibrant, expressive gaze that Laura knew so well was gone, replaced by a dull, distant stare.

"Oh, baby," Laura whispered, brushing Kat's hair back with trembling fingers. "I'm right here."

The nurse sighed, her voice gentle. "The sedative hit her hard. She's definitely out of it, but that's what she needs right now—to rest, to let the fever come down."

Laura nodded weakly, but the sight of Kat so unresponsive made her chest ache. She had fought so hard only minutes ago, and now she was completely still.

Kat's fingers twitched slightly in Laura's grasp, the tiniest movement. It wasn't much, but Laura clung to it. She squeezed her daughter's hand, even though there was no squeeze in return.

"I've got you, sweetheart," Laura murmured, her voice barely above a breath. "Mommy's here."

Laura swallowed hard, still holding Kat's limp hand in hers. She gently stroked her daughter's fingers, but there was no reaction—no squeeze, no flicker of awareness in Kat's half-lidded eyes. The sight made Laura's chest tighten with worry.

"How long will this last?" Laura asked, her voice quiet but strained. "The sedative?"

The nurse gave her a reassuring look. "It's a strong one," she admitted. "Given how agitated she was, we needed something that would work quickly and keep her calm for a while. It'll probably last a few hours—she'll be very drowsy even after she wakes up."

Laura exhaled shakily, brushing her fingers across Kat's forehead, which was still too warm. "She looks so... out of it," she murmured.

The nurse nodded. "That's normal. Her body is exhausted from the fever and the episode. Right now, rest is the best thing for her."

Laura bit her lip, eyes still locked on Kat's distant, unfocused gaze. She had fought so hard, struggled so much—and now she was just... still. The contrast was almost too much to bear.

She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Kat's forehead, her lips lingering there for a moment. "I love you, baby," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I'm right here."

Kat didn't stir, didn't react.

Laura let out a slow, uneven breath, never letting go of her daughter's hand.

Laura sighed, shifting slightly in her chair as she continued to stroke Kat's hand. The sedative had done its job—her daughter was deep in sleep now, her breathing slow and steady. But her fever still lingered, and Laura hated seeing her so warm and flushed.

Gently, she reached for the blanket covering Kat and adjusted it, carefully folding part of it back to allow more air to circulate. As she smoothed it down, her gaze drifted lower, and that's when she noticed it—something was off.

A faint but unmistakable odor reached her, and as her eyes moved to the slight bulge beneath Kat's hospital gown, realization struck. Her diaper was soiled.

Laura's stomach twisted, not out of discomfort but out of guilt. She'd been so focused on Kat's fever, her panic, the restraints—she hadn't even thought about this. But of course, with all the stress, her body hadn't waited for a more convenient time.

She glanced at the nurse hesitantly before clearing her throat. "Um... I think her diaper needs changing."

The nurse, unfazed, nodded and stepped closer, carefully lifting the blanket a little more and pulling back the edge of Kat's gown just enough to check. A quick glance confirmed it.

"Yeah," the nurse said softly. "She's messy."

Laura winced, brushing Kat's hair back again. "Should we change her now?"

The nurse hesitated, then shook her head. "Not yet. She's been through a lot, and right now, sleep is more important. I don't want to stir her up just for a diaper change."

Laura's lips pressed together, but she nodded in understanding. "That makes sense."

"I'll write a note for the next change so we don't forget," the nurse assured her, already jotting something down on Kat's chart. "Once she's had a nap and is more settled, we'll take care of it."

Laura exhaled slowly, rubbing her thumb gently over Kat's limp fingers. She hated the thought of her daughter lying there in discomfort, but she also knew how badly she needed this rest.

"Alright," she murmured, glancing at Kat's peaceful face. "Let's let her sleep."

Laura sat by Kat's bedside for a long while, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing, watching the slight rise and fall of her chest. The worst of the crisis had passed, but the weight in Laura's chest remained.

She let out a slow breath, forcing herself to move. Kat was sleeping soundly, her body finally at rest. There wasn't much more Laura could do for her at the moment, and the exhaustion settling in her bones reminded her that she needed to take care of herself, too—at least enough to keep going.

Reluctantly, she stood, smoothing the blanket over Kat one last time before gathering her things. Her purse, a sweater draped over the chair. She cast one last glance at her daughter's sleeping form before stepping quietly out of the room.

The hospital halls were dimly lit, the soft hum of nighttime routines filling the space. Laura moved through them on autopilot, following the familiar path to the cafeteria. She barely registered the vending machines lining the walls, the quiet conversations at scattered tables. She just needed coffee. Something warm, something to hold onto.

She stepped up to the self-serve station, fumbling with the cup lids as she poured herself a black coffee, too tired to bother with sugar or cream.

"Hey there."

The voice startled her slightly, pulling her out of her fog. She turned to see an older gentleman standing a few feet away, offering her a small, friendly smile. He was dressed in worn jeans and a flannel jacket, his silver hair slightly disheveled.

"I'm Daniel," he said, his tone easy, like he'd done this a hundred times before. "Who are you here for?"

Laura blinked, caught off guard by the question. She hesitated, her fingers tightening around the coffee cup. "My daughter," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Daniel nodded, his expression softening. "Tough night?"

Laura swallowed and let out a quiet, shaky breath. "Yeah," she admitted.

Daniel pulled out a chair at a nearby table, nodding toward the seat across from him. "You look like you could use a minute. Sit?"

Laura hesitated, then, with a small sigh, she lowered herself into the chair, cradling the coffee between her hands.

Maybe, just for a moment, she could let herself breathe.

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