As the seizure took hold, Mia’s world fractured. Her body arched off the thin hospital mattress, muscles locking in a violent, rhythmic struggle she couldn’t control. The heart monitor transitioned from a steady pulse to a frantic, high-pitched screech

  “She’s tonic-clonic!” the paramedic yelled, his voice tight with adrenaline. He shoved the rolling tray aside, sending metal instruments clattering across the floor. “Get her on her side! Clear the airway!”

  Outside the heavy glass door, the twins were a vision of heartbreak. Kayla and Sarah were huddled together, their small hands pressed against the glass, eyes wide and brimming with tears. They weren't tech geniuses in this moment; they were just little sisters watching their protector wither under the harsh fluorescent lights. An officer stood between them and the door, his hand on his belt, looking torn between his job and the sheer tragedy unfolding in front of him.

  “Mia! MIA!” Shay’s voice roared from the hallway.

  He fought like a caged animal. Two officers had him by the arms, their boots scuffing against the polished linoleum as they struggled to keep him back. Shay didn't care about the handcuffs or the threats of jail; his eyes were locked on the monitor's jagged red line.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “That’s my sister!” he screamed, his voice cracking. “Let me go! She needs me!”

  Inside the room, the lead nurse barked orders. “Push two milligrams of Ativan, now! Watch her head!”

  The paramedic reached for Mia’s shoulders, trying to guide her onto her side to keep her safe, but her body was a lightning storm of uncontrolled energy. Every time her heels hit the bed frame, the sound echoed like a drumbeat of disaster.

  Then, the lights flickered.

  It started as a subtle dimming, but then the hospital’s backup generators groaned to life. In the parking lot below, the smart car—Alice—was pulsing her LED lights in a frantic, rhythmic red. She was synced to Mia’s vitals, and the car was screaming in its own digital way.

  As the medication hit Mia’s system, the violent jerking began to slow. The chaotic noise in the room faded into a heavy, terrifying silence, broken only by the sound of Mia’s ragged, uneven breathing.

  The paramedic wiped sweat from his forehead, looking down at the girl who had just been a defiant "Ghost Kid" minutes ago, now looking fragile and pale amidst the wires.

  “She’s stabilizing,” the nurse whispered, checking the pulse

  Outside, Shay stopped fighting. He slumped against the wall, his forehead resting against the cool plaster, sobbing silently as the twins rushed to bury their faces in his black sweatshirt. They were safe for now, but the secret of the Ghost Kids was bleeding out in the most painful way possible.