The Plug

As I walked into the threatenly dark, silent room, my blood started racing through my arms and legs. My stomach began tying itself up in knots. I felt as if someone had closed an enormous fist around my stomach. I silently watched the lifeless figure lying on the cold steel table. The oxygen was being pumped in and out of her lungs, in and out, in and out, over and over again. A monitor with thin red zigzag lines, beeped rhythmically. There was a maze of what seemed to be hundreds of tubes, running across her face and down her arms. She looked so helpless and weak. Her once vibrant, rosy complexion now seemed sallow and translucent. Her beautiful sky blue eyes that sparkled like the sea on a bright summer day now sparkled no more. Instead, they merely stared blankly at the ceiling. As scalding tears skated down my face, I felt my arm moving towards the plug. I knew what was happening, but I could not stop it. I felt my fingers close around the icy god. My eyes moved ever so slowly down the length between elbow and fingertips. The plug lay at my feet. She lay there on the cold, steel table, chest heaving no more and eyes closed. She was gone. My sister was dead.