Kismet

‘Shh, honey, don’t talk. Save your strength. We’ll get you to a hospital.’ Kieran was on his knees and shouted to someone standing near the pit. ‘Medics!’ I was lifted out of the coffin and transferred onto a stretcher. Kieran never let go of my hand. ‘Honey, I’m with you. You are safe. You are safe.’ I opened my mouth wide, sucking in air greedily, realising this wasn’t a dream. I saw the cuts on his face and bleeding gashes on his arms. ‘You are hurt.’ ‘I’m fine.’ He knelt beside me as emergency medical personnel got me into the back of an ambulance. Someone placed an oxygen mask over my face. I took in the sweet scent of life. Kieran caressed my forehead, brushed dirt and wet hair from my face. I kept my eyes on his face, couldn’t look away. Later, the doctors told me I was lucky to walk away without permanent brain damage. The experience left me with a case of severe claustrophobia. To this day, I couldn’t step into a lift without breaking into a cold sweat and feeling sick. But at