Chapter 4

His words hung in the air, stunning everyone into silence. His mention of Lily, his vicious, nonsensical blame, it was too much.

As if on cue, Emily appeared behind him, clutching his arm. She was pale and crying, a perfect picture of a wronged victim. "Mark, don't," she whispered. "It's all my fault. I'll take the blame."

Her performance fueled his rage. He lunged forward and grabbed my wrist, his grip like iron. "Retract the report, Sarah! Now!"

My wrist ached, but the pain in my heart was worse. "I didn't do it, Mark," I pleaded, my voice breaking. "And Lily... Lily is gone."

But Emily let out a piercing scream, a calculated distraction. "Mark, my head hurts!"

He instantly let go of me and rushed to her side, his focus entirely on her. As he turned, his eyes landed on the small memorial I had set up in the corner of the yard-Lily' s drawing, her favorite toys, a collection of white flowers.

Emily saw it too. She pointed, her voice trembling. "What is that? Oh, God, Mark, she's cursing me! She's wishing death upon me!"

"Mark, let go!" I screamed, a raw, primal sound. "Those are for Lily! They're for our daughter!"

He didn't hear me. Or he didn't care. Consumed by a blind fury, he strode over to the memorial. He kicked over the flowers. He stomped on her toys. Then he gathered up her precious paper crafts, the things her little hands had made, and lit them on fire.

I scrambled forward, frantically trying to save what I could, my hands reaching into the flames. I managed to pull out a half-burnt paper rescue helicopter, the one she said I would fly someday.

Mark was too busy comforting Emily. "It's okay," he murmured to her. "I'll control her. I'll make sure she never bothers you again."

Emily tried to take his hand, but for a split second, he flinched, pulling away. He glanced back at me, at my soot-stained face and the pathetic, burnt piece of paper in my hand. He noticed how thin I' d become, how my clothes hung off my frame. A pang of something-guilt, maybe-crossed his face. He actually thought to himself, I should take Sarah and Lily out somewhere nice next week.

In that exact moment, a screech of tires cut through the air. A speeding truck, having lost control on the main road, smashed through our backyard fence.

It hit Emily first, sending her flying. Then it slammed into me, pinning me against the brick wall of the house.

The last thing I remember was a searing, white-hot pain, and then darkness.

I woke up to the frantic beeping of machines in the ER. My own ER. My colleagues were working on me, their faces grim. Through the haze of pain, I could hear them talking. Both Emily and I were critical. There was a city-wide blood shortage. They only had enough O-negative for one of us.

They went to Mark. The next of kin. He had to choose.

I saw him through the open door of the trauma bay, his face a mess of agony. He paced back and forth, his hands clenched. Then he stopped. He looked at Emily' s unconscious form, then at me.

He took a deep breath. "Save Emily."