Chapter 1

A hospital's medication error leaves me in a vegetative state.

My father, a renowned medical expert, lies under oath to protect the hospital because the doctor responsible is the only son of his longtime mentor.

When reporters confront him, he calmly declares, "My daughter has suffered from allergies since childhood. What happened to her is simply bad luck. The doctor did nothing wrong, and the hospital shouldn't be blamed for something beyond its control."

The man who destroyed my life walks away without consequences.

I lie helpless in my hospital bed, hearing every word.

Unable to move anything but my eyes, I turn my gaze toward the euthanasia consent form in my mother's hands.

Chapter 1

Anger boiled inside me. I wanted to scream until my lungs gave out. But my body felt like lead. I couldn't move a muscle.

The nurse gently patted my mother's hand as she explained the euthanasia procedure. "Over the next three days, we'll gradually reduce her nutritional support. After that, we'll proceed with the euthanasia protocol."

It had been three months since someone injected the wrong antibiotic into my bloodstream. Three months since my world came to a standstill.

The doctors said I was in a vegetative state. I showed no response to anything around me.

Worst of all, the person responsible for my condition was still walking free, thanks to my father's testimony.

The door opened.

In walked Dr. Alvin Attwood, my father. The man who had helped someone else get away with practically murdering his own daughter.

"Dr. Attwood, you're here."

He came to my bedside and took my hand. These were the same hands that had once stroked my forehead all night when I was sick with a fever. Now, his touch felt so cold and unfamiliar.

He bent down and whispered in my ear, "Cassie, I know you can hear me.

"Don't blame me, sweetheart. I owe my mentor a great deal, and this is my chance to repay him. Besides, the hospital has agreed to pay us three million in compensation. Your mother and I will be set for life.

"Mr. Fletcher's son can't have something like this on his record. He's only 28. He has his whole future ahead of him. And since you're already like this, why not… do your old man one last favor?"

Beside him, my mother, Meredith Blake, spoke in a trembling voice. "All the paperwork's been taken care of. The hospital said… it'll be peaceful. Just like falling asleep."

Alvin let go of my hand, his voice turning stern again. "What's there to cry about? This is the best outcome we could hope for. What would you rather do? Spend the rest of your life coming here every day to cry over someone who's practically dead?"

"But she's our daughter…"

"She was," Alvin cut in. "Now she's a patient who deserves to be put out of her misery. Have you forgotten everything I taught you in medical school? Once someone's quality of life reaches zero, keeping them alive only prolongs their suffering."

He talked about prolonging my suffering as if he weren't the one responsible for it.

Meredith said nothing. I heard her sniffling quietly before she placed a hand on my forehead. "Cassie, I'm so sorry. But your father's right… This is what's best for all of us."

I couldn't move, but the tears wouldn't stop falling.

I remembered the afternoon Alvin first introduced me to his mentor, Dr. Ben Fletcher, the hospital director.

Ben had patted me on the head and said, "Alvin, you've got a smart little girl here. I bet she'll be a doctor someday, just like you."

Alvin had grinned so widely that the corners of his eyes crinkled. Back then, I'd thought he was proud of me. I hadn't realized then that he'd only ever seen me as an investment.

"The notary's coming tomorrow to record us confirming that we're signing the euthanasia agreement of our own free will," Alvin told Meredith.

"Try to act natural. Stop looking like you're being led to the gallows. This is a medical decision, not some tragedy. We're being rational about it."

"But Cassie's only 22…"

"And?" Alvin's voice turned icy.

"You want her lying here for another 20 years, hooked up to machines? That's a waste of resources. Meredith, you went to medical school too. You should know better."

Meredith fell silent.

I knew that silence all too well. Whenever my father used his medical knowledge and lectures about what was supposedly right to shut her down, she always gave in without another word.

"I'm going to go over the final details with Mr. Fletcher," Alvin said. "Stay with her for a while. And don't do anything stupid."

The door opened and closed behind him. Meredith's muffled sobs were the only sounds left in the room.

Her hand was still on my forehead when a warm tear landed on my eyelid. "Cassie, I'm so sorry… If I could trade places with you, I would. I'd give anything to be the one lying in that bed."

But she didn't do anything. She didn't stand up and tell the truth at the hearing. She didn't stop Alvin when he lied under oath. She didn't even say no when those doctors decided I should die.

Instead, she sat here crying, waiting for me to die.

"Cassie, I'm sorry…" she whispered. Then she pulled her hand away and hurried toward the door. "I'll come see you tomorrow, sweetheart."

The door closed. The room went quiet, leaving only the steady beeping of the monitors. Each beep sounded like another second ticking away.

Three days. That was all I had left.

I stared at the blurry water stain on the ceiling. When I was little, I used to say it looked like an angel. Alvin would laugh and lift me so I could see it better.

The same man who used to spoil me rotten now wanted me dead.

Late that night, the hospital fell silent. I lay in bed, counting my heartbeats.

Then, out of nowhere, I realized I could feel the tip of my tongue against the roof of my mouth. I tried moving it.

It shifted a bit to the left.

I tried again. This time, I noticed that I could move my right eye a little farther than I could yesterday. They were tiny changes, but I was thrilled.

For the first time in three months, a thought filled me with hope.

I had to find a way to move again. Before they pulled the tubes keeping me alive.

Chapter 2

At six the next morning, a nursing aide came in to give me a sponge bath.

As she washed me, she murmured, "Poor thing. So young, and you're already on your way out. But your parents seem to have made their peace with it."

Even a stranger felt sorry for me, while my own parents couldn't wait for me to die.

Once she'd finished, she helped me into a fresh hospital gown.

When I was little, Meredith always put me in my favorite teddy bear pajamas whenever I was sick. She used to say, "Being sick doesn't mean you can't wear something that makes you happy."

Now I was about to die, and my parents barely seemed to care.

The aide wheeled her cart out, leaving the door slightly ajar. I could hear bits and pieces of a conversation in the hallway.

"The family agreed to it voluntarily. Everything's aboveboard…"

"Mr. Fletcher's already cleared it. Besides, Dr. Attwood's right. It's better for everyone this way…"

Everyone except me.

My parents arrived at nine. Meredith came to my bedside and spoke softly. "Cassie, Mommy made your favorite chicken noodle soup. I know you can't eat it right now, but I wanted you to have a little taste."

She opened the thermos, filling the room with the familiar smell.

Whenever I had a fever as a child, she would make this soup for me. I would pretend to be asleep while she blew on each spoonful to cool it down before feeding me.

Alvin stood nearby, flipping through my medical chart without looking up. "Meredith, don't waste your time. She can't swallow anymore."

"I know…" Meredith's voice grew quieter. "I just… wanted to do something for her."

"You weren't this emotional when you signed the paperwork." Alvin snapped the chart shut. "Pull yourself together and wipe your eyes. They'll be here any minute."

Meredith leaned down and whispered in my ear, her voice breaking. "Cassie, Mommy will be back soon."

After they left, I tried moving my fingers. Once. Twice. Finally, my index finger bent slightly.

I was thrilled by the progress, however little, but before I could try again, the door opened.

A young man poked his head inside and glanced down the hallway in both directions before slipping into the room and closing the door.

I could just make out his tall, thin frame from the corner of my eye. He wore glasses and a white coat.

"I'm Nolan Mercer, a medical intern." He came to my bedside, quickly checked the monitors, then leaned closer. "I've been going through your medical records, including the medication logs from the day of the incident. Some things don't add up."

I was so startled that my eyes moved.

Nolan noticed immediately, and his face lit up. "You can move? Listen, I don't know how much you've recovered, but your parents have told everyone on staff to keep quiet about your case. We're not even allowed to discuss it."

He hesitated before continuing. "My sister died in this hospital three years ago. They said it was a medical error, but nobody was ever held responsible. I came here as an intern to find out what really happened. Your case might help me uncover the truth, so… I'm going to help you."

Footsteps approached from the hallway. Nolan quickly straightened up and pretended to adjust my IV line.

A nurse came in, and he made an excuse to leave. Before he stepped out, he gave me one last determined look.

My parents returned around noon. Meredith's eyes were red and swollen from crying, but Alvin looked perfectly calm, almost relieved.

"Everything's taken care of," he said. "The procedure's scheduled for 3:00 pm the day after tomorrow. Mr. Fletcher will handle it personally. It'll be painless."

I felt sick. As if it weren't bad enough that they wanted me dead, they were letting the father of the man who had put me in this condition finish the job himself.

Meredith's shoulders trembled as she turned to Alvin. "Could I… give her some soup one last time? Just once, Alvin. Please."

He frowned and checked his watch. "Ten minutes. I've got a meeting at three."

Meredith hurried to my bedside and opened the thermos again. She carefully scooped up a spoonful of soup and brought it to my lips.

The soup was still hot. It ran down my lips and dripped onto the pillow. The heat stung, and a faint groan escaped my throat.

"Uh…" For a moment, I could hardly believe it. I could feel pain again.

Meredith heard me too. Her mouth fell open. "Alvin! Cassie… she just made a sound!"

Alvin turned and hurried over. He lifted my eyelids, checked my pupils, then sighed. "It's just a throat spasm. Patients in vegetative states can still have involuntary reflexes. There's no need to get worked up."

"No! She made a sound! I heard her! I swear I did!"

"Meredith." Alvin grabbed her by the shoulders. "You're exhausted, and you're not thinking clearly. Go home and get some rest. The nursing staff will take care of her."

"But…"

"No buts. We've already signed the agreement. Bringing this up now will only complicate things for everyone."

Meredith looked at him, then at me. In the end, she backed down, just as she had countless times before.

Alvin put an arm around her shoulders and led her toward the door. Just before it closed, she glanced back at me. Her eyes were filled with fear.

But she wasn't afraid of losing me. She was afraid I might live.

Chapter 3

Two days left until my scheduled euthanasia.

I'd been secretly practicing moving my body. Every little bit of progress gave me another chance to beat the clock.

The door suddenly swung open. It was the middle of the night, and I wasn't expecting any visitors.

"Well, look who's still hanging in there."

I recognized the voice immediately. It was Victor Fletcher, Ben Fletcher's only son and the man responsible for putting me in this condition. This was the first time he'd visited me in three months.

He walked up to my bed, his white coat draped casually over his shoulders.

He leaned down with a mocking smile. "Heard they're finally putting you out of your misery tomorrow. Figured I'd come say goodbye while I still had the chance.

"Really, you should be thanking me. What's the point of spending your life in a vegetative state? Better to die sooner rather than later.

"Maybe you'll have better luck in your next life. Pick a different family, though. You're about to die, and your parents don't even seem that upset."

It was almost laughable that even Victor could see how little my parents cared about me.

He poked my cheek, enjoying every second of it. "Your dad's got some talent, I'll give him that. That little performance at the hearing was brilliant.

"'My daughter's had severe allergies since she was a child.' Ha! I almost believed him myself. Three million for one life. Your family's made a killing."

I stared at the ceiling, pressing my tongue hard against the roof of my mouth. Under the blanket, my right hand slowly curled into a fist, my nails digging into my palm.

Victor lowered his voice. "Let me tell you a little secret. When I gave you that injection, I'd only had my medical license for two days. I bought it, too.

"I had no idea what I was doing, and you just happened to be the unlucky patient. That's just bad luck. Can't blame anyone for that."

He turned and walked toward the window, his back to me. "My dad covers for me, and your dad sells you out. That's how the world works."

He lit a cigarette as he spoke. Smoke filled the room, and I struggled to keep my breathing steady, afraid I would start coughing and give myself away.

"Shame there's no evidence left. Once you're dead, the whole thing's buried for good. My dad keeps his job as hospital director, I keep practicing medicine, and your parents get to enjoy their money. Everybody wins."

I was furious. My right hand began trembling with rage. My pinky twitched first, followed by my ring finger. Then my whole hand started shaking beneath the blanket.

Victor turned, ready to say something else, but stopped when he noticed my hand.

The room fell silent for a few seconds. Then he burst out laughing. "Well, I'll be damned! This is interesting!"

He tossed his cigarette onto the floor and came back to my bedside. "Didn't Dr. Attwood say you were completely unresponsive? Those reflexes look a little unusual to me."

Without warning, he grabbed my right wrist and squeezed so hard I thought he might crush it. "Go on, do it again. Let's see you move!"

I couldn't fight him off. I could only lie there helplessly while he jerked my arm around.

"Now this is interesting. I've gotta show your dad." He pulled out his phone and was about to start recording when a nurse called from the hallway.

"Dr. Fletcher? What are you doing in here? Dr. Attwood wants you in his office."

Victor froze. He stared at me for a few seconds, then broke into a grin.

He slipped his phone back into his pocket. "Even better. I'd rather tell him in person."

He strode out, whistling as he went.

I waited until his footsteps faded before finally letting out the breath I'd been holding. I knew I didn't have much time left.