On His Knees

I die in the corridor of the private hospital my husband established after being forced to give my heart to his true love.

Before my death, my six-year-old son tearfully begs him to save me thrice.

The first time, he holds my husband's hand and says I'm coughing up blood.

My husband sneers. "Looks like she's learned tricks—she knows how to teach children to lie now."

Then, he has his bodyguards kick my son out of the ward.

The second time, my son grabs his sleeve and says I'm in so much pain that I'm incoherent.

My husband frowns. "It's just a heart transplant. The doctor said she won't die."

The bodyguards step forward and drag my son out of the ward again.

The third time, my son grovels at my husband's feet and grabs his pants, sobbing and saying that I'm already unconscious.

My husband is infuriated. He grabs my son by the neck and throws him out of the ward.

"I told you Nadia won't die! I'll throw her and you out of the hospital if you come here and disturb Ruby's rest again!"

My son gives his most previous item—a guardian angel pendant—to a nurse to save me. The nurse accepts it and arranges for me to be admitted to the last available ward in the hospital.

However, Ruby Sharpe has someone stand before it with her pet dog. She says, "Sorry, kiddo. Your father's worried I'll be bored without my dog, so this ward has been set aside for my dog to stay in."

They moved my hospital bed into the hallway to make space for Ruby Sharpe's dog in the last available hospital room.

When the door closed, my son, Micah, still held the guardian angel pendant he had just taken off. His fists, now slightly bruised, kept pounding against the door.

"Ms. Sharpe, please give my mom her room back! Ms. Sharpe, I'm begging you. Open the door!"

Micah's young voice carried through the hallway, but Ruby was absorbed in playing with her dog inside the room. The louder he cried, the more she seemed to enjoy it.

"Good dog. We don't bother with filthy things," she said.

Micah's voice turned rough and raw. The same boy who used to beg me to hold him over a scraped knee now wiped the blood from his fists with his shirt.

Tears filled his eyes as he spat, "You're horrible! I gave up my guardian angel pendant just to get this hospital room. You don't get to keep your dog in there! You monster!"

His voice was so strained it was hard to make out, each word shaking with a fragile, heartbreaking tremor.

I lay on my hospital bed in the hallway, tears and blood running down my face. I had failed Micah. I couldn't protect him. I felt very remorseful.

The hospital room door remained shut.

Micah walked back to my hospital bed, his eyes terribly swollen. "Mom, I'm sorry. I failed. I let that monster take our room. Mom, I'm so sorry."

I could feel my life fading. I knew I was about to die, but I didn't want to frighten Micah.

Using my last bit of strength, I managed a weak smile. "Micah, I'm feeling cold. Will you go get me a blanket?"

Micah paused for a moment, then quickly dried his tears. "Yes, I'll get it now. Mom, you have to wait for me! Please wait!"

As I watched him sprint down the hallway, my eyelids grew heavy. "Micah, I'm sorry. I can't wait any longer."

When I opened my eyes again, I was a spirit following Micah. He was smart. Knowing it was too far to go home, he immediately ran into an open hospital room when he saw one.

A young woman lay in the bed. Her husband carefully covered her with a blanket, ensuring she was completely tucked in. A five-year-old boy stood nearby, holding a cup of water and calling "Mom" sweetly.

Micah inexplicably felt the sudden urge to cry. But he couldn't. He still needed to borrow a blanket for me.