Chapter 19
"I already told the fam. They're on their way."
"Get 'em to take him outta here fast. Can't have him blocking the hall."
Two med staff in scrubs and masks were whispering, like a death in the hospital was just another Tuesday.
Margaret turned, eyes glued to the stretcher with the white sheet.
It looked about Marlon's height.
Marlon had been in room 1502 before he dead. She'd done the hospital admission procedures, herself; no way she was wrong.
Raymond wasn't bullshitting. Marlon was really gone.
Tears rolled down her cheeks, splashing on the white sheet.
The med staff noticed her and frowned. "You family?"
Margaret nodded.
"Then get him outta here and don't forget to pay up. He owes a ton," one of them said, then they moved on to check other rooms.
Margaret's fingers brushed the white sheet.
She wanted to lift it, but her hands were shaking.
In the end, she just grabbed the stretcher handle. This was a hospital, a public place. She couldn't make a scene. She bit her chapped lips hard, her body trembling.
She could only shout in her heart, 'Dad, it's all my fault. I caused your death. I'm so useless. Couldn't even scrape together a million bucks. You bled out right outside the OR because of me.'
She'd been sheltered by her parents for over twenty years, clueless about the world's dangers. Now, she couldn't protect her family at all.
Nancy was in a mental hospital, tormented by male patients.
Margaret slid down the cold wall, collapsing to the floor.
Grief hit her like a truck, making it hard to breathe.
Her head dropped, and she coughed up blood, splattering the floor.
She wiped the warm blood from her mouth, feeling like her insides were being ripped apart by venomous snakes, the pain curling her up on the floor.
"Ms. Hughes, you have late-stage liver cancer! Eat what you want; drink what you want; don't leave any regrets!"
"How long do I have?"
"Not even a month."
The doc's words echoed in her ears, his sympathetic gaze burned into her mind.
She shakily pulled out a bottle of painkillers from her bag, struggled with the cap, poured a handful, and swallowed them dry.
Whether it was the physical pain, Marlon's death, or the bitterness of the pills, her red eyes overflowed with tears.
Her gaze was unfocused as she sat on the floor, muttering, "Dad, don't be scared. I'll be with you soon. Next life, we'll still be family. Next life, let me take care of you."
It was all her fault.
A nurse said, "Why haven't you taken him away yet? If you don't, we'll call security."
The nurse's voice was familiar. Margaret remembered she was the one she'd paid to look after Nancy.
Margaret was too drained, like all her energy had been sucked out. She just sat there, ignoring everyone.
"Margaret? What are you doing on the floor?" A familiar woman's voice came, and Margaret's eyelashes trembled.
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