Linton felt trapped in a colossal nightmare.
While unconscious, he relived the same dream again and again, countless times.
He would dream of Liliana crying, the little girl’s sobs filled with helplessness and despair.
The sound of her crying twisted his heart into a tight knot.
He wanted to rush to her side, hold her tight, pull her into his arms, and comfort her, just as he had done thousands of times over the past twenty years.
But he couldn’t reach her.
A tightly shut emergency room door always stood in his way.
He was trapped in the hospital corridor, surrounded by dim, cold light. Besides Liliana’s helpless sobs, there was only a suffocating silence.
Desperate and broken, Linton stood before the closed door.
Time and again, he slammed his fists against it, roared, and begged...
He tried countless methods, but not once did the people inside respond to him.
They only repeated the horrifying words “pregnant woman” and “childbirth complications” in cold, mechanical tones.
Linton’s initial fear, anger, and panic gave way to endless cycles of broken, tearful pleading.
He exhausted every option, but the door remained firmly shut.
And every time it opened, his little girl, the person he had loved for so long, was already silent, lying alone in a pool of blood on the cold operating table.
Linton’s grief was so intense his eyes felt like they would split.
Again and again, he would stumble toward her, hold her tightly, and carefully place a precious kiss on her pale, cold lips. Then, with a deep, lingering look of devotion and reluctance, he would turn and slam his body headfirst into the emergency room door without a second thought.
With a deafening crash, he would find himself back in the dim, cold corridor.
All around him was dead silence.
Then, suddenly, the faint sound of Liliana’s whimpering would begin again.
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