Chapter 2

"Quick! Establish bilateral venous access, pressurized infusion! Go urge the blood bank!"

"The mother's blood pressure has dropped to fifty, blood loss exceeds two thousand milliliters!"

"Where are those two bags of red blood cell suspension reserved for delivery?"

I floated above the operating room, watching a group of people busy around my body.

Dr. Waco's surgical gown was already soaked with my blood.

I wanted to touch my belly, but my hand passed through the air.

That stab from Isaacson wasn't the scratch Blake thought it was at all.

She avoided the nurses' rounds and hid the fruit knife in her sleeve.

When she stabbed it in, she leaned against my ear and said, as long as you and this child are gone, Blake will only have me left.

When she pulled out the knife, she even deliberately twisted the handle.

"The blood bank replied that those two bags of backup blood were signed for and taken away by Dr. Blake five minutes ago."

The circulating nurse's voice was tearful.

"Taken away? Is he insane! This is life-saving blood for a high-risk pregnant woman!"

Dr. Waco's hand veins bulged.

"Dr. Blake said Miss Isaacson has a severe coagulation disorder and needs emergency blood reserves for an arm scratch."

The operating room fell silent, leaving only the sharp alarm of the monitoring equipment.

I watched Dr. Waco desperately pack gauze, trying to stop the bleeding point.

I wanted to tell him, don't bother.

I couldn't wait for the next batch of blood Blake promised.

The sound of the fetal heart monitor went from rapid to gradually slower, and finally drew out into a long beep.

The child who had just been kicking me fell completely silent.

"Fetal heartbeat lost."

"Patient in ventricular fibrillation, prepare defibrillator!"

"Two hundred joules, charging, clear."

With a thud, my body bounced on the operating table and fell heavily again.

The electrocardiogram struggled a few times, then flatlined.

"Dr. Blake said the next batch of blood can be transferred from the city blood station in ten minutes."

The head nurse came through the door with red-rimmed eyes.

Dr. Waco put down the defibrillator, his voice hoarse beyond recognition.

"No need. Record time of death, eight-oh-seven p.m."

I watched the nurse take the white cloth, pull it over my head, covering my eyes that wouldn't close in death.

In the VIP ward just one wall away.

Blake was holding an iodine cotton swab, wiping the scraped skin on Isaacson's elbow.

"Blake, did I kill someone?"

Isaacson curled up on the hospital bed, her shoulders trembling.

Blake threw the cotton swab into the medical waste bin, his tone steady.

"No. She just has a superficial wound. You had a depressive episode and couldn't control yourself. The law won't hold you accountable."

"But she bled so much, the way she looked at me was so scary."

"That was amniotic fluid breaking, mixed with blood, just looked frightening. She studied medicine herself, she knows how to avoid vital areas."

Blake lowered his head and blew on Isaacson's wound, which had stopped bleeding.

"As for you, you know your coagulation function isn't good, yet you still ran around. What if this scratch wouldn't stop bleeding?"

Isaacson leaned into his arms, tears rubbing against his white coat.

On the hem of that white coat, there were still bloody handprints I'd clawed out in my dying moments.

"I was afraid that once you had a child, you wouldn't want me anymore. I couldn't control myself."

"Don't overthink it."

Blake stroked her hair.

"I already had her press her fingerprint on the settlement agreement. After she gives birth and her emotions stabilize, I'll have her come tell you in person that it's okay."

When he spoke, it was as if he was just arranging tomorrow's clinic hours.

The emergency room door was pushed open.

Dr. Waco removed his blood-soaked mask, his voice hoarse beyond recognition:

"The mother and child, both gone."

And in the adjacent ward, Blake was lowering his head to blow on the shallow scratch on Isaacson's elbow.