In the hospital room, I watched in horror as my sister yanked out her oxygen tube and

lifted his badge.

The room changed.

Mara’s smile twitched. My mother’s face drained of color.

David placed the tablet on the rolling tray and pressed play.

There was Mara, alone, yanking out her tube. There were my parents, waiting in the hall. There was my mother rushing in, not to save her gasping daughter, but to swing metal into my pregnant body.

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