Chương 7
“She knew and she used it.”
Alyssa started crying again.
“I’m sorry.”
I looked at her.
“I know.”
The words surprised both of us.
Because I meant them.
Not completely.
Not enough to forgive.
But enough to acknowledge that she was hurting too.
That was the worst part.
There were no clean villains and heroes.
There were just people making choices.
Some choices were cruel.
Some were selfish.
Some were made because people were afraid.
And some people were hurt because others decided their fear mattered more.
Lisa gathered the documents carefully.
“We need to secure these.”
Alyssa immediately handed them over.
“I want to help.”
Lisa looked at her.
“Are you sure?”
Alyssa nodded.
For once, she did not look toward the door waiting for permission.
“Yes.”
After Lisa left, Alyssa remained sitting there.
The room felt less crowded without the adults who had controlled our lives.
Strangely, it was the first time we had ever been alone as equals.
“I used to be jealous of you,” she said.
I looked at her.
“Why?”
She laughed quietly.
“It sounds ridiculous now.”
“Try me.”
She looked at the floor.
“Dad trusted you.”
I almost laughed.
“He did?”
“Yes.”
I waited.
“You could talk to him.”
I looked away.
“That’s because I was always trying to avoid making him angry.”
She nodded.
“I thought you were stronger than me.”
The words stayed with me.
Because I had spent years thinking Alyssa was the strong one.
She got the attention.
The praise.
The protection.
But maybe protection was not always love.
Sometimes protection was a cage with softer walls.
“I hated you sometimes,” I admitted.
Alyssa looked up.
The honesty surprised her.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
She waited.
“I hated that everyone looked at you like you were worth saving.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I never wanted that.”
“I know.”
I looked at the floor.
“That’s what makes it complicated.”
We sat quietly.
Not healed.
Not forgiven.
Just two people finally seeing the same room they had lived in differently.
A knock interrupted us.
A hospital employee stood outside.
“Excuse me.”
He looked at me.
“There is a detective here who needs to speak with you.”
My stomach tightened.
Alyssa stood.
“I’ll leave.”
“No.”
The word came out before I thought about it.
She stopped.
I looked at her.
“Stay.”
She nodded slowly.
The detective entered a moment later.
Her name was Elena Ruiz.
She carried a notebook instead of a dramatic folder.
That somehow made her seem more serious.
“Ms. Montgomery?”
I nodded.
“I’m Detective Ruiz.”
She glanced at Alyssa.
“Is she family?”
I almost answered automatically.
Then I stopped.
The old answer would have been complicated.
“Yes,” I said finally.
“But not the way I used to think.”
Detective Ruiz did not react.
She simply pulled up a chair.
“I need to ask you about the days before your surgery.”
I looked at Alyssa.
Then back at the detective.
“Okay.”
She opened her notebook.
“Did anyone tell you that refusing the transplant would make you responsible if Alyssa died?”
My mouth went dry.
I looked at my hands.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
I already knew the answer.
But saying it aloud felt like crossing a line.
“My father.”
Detective Ruiz wrote something down.
“Did anyone tell you that you could change your mind after signing the consent forms?”
I thought back.
The hospital room.
The papers.
Charles standing beside me.
Brenda crying.
Everyone waiting.
“No.”
Detective Ruiz stopped writing.
She looked up.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
She closed the notebook.
“Then there is something you should know.”
My heartbeat changed.
“What?”
“The first coordinator assigned to your case documented that you were considering withdrawing.”
I stared at her.
“I was.”
Alyssa looked at me.
“You were?”
I nodded.
The memory came back.
The night before surgery.
Me sitting alone in my car outside the hospital.
My hand on the steering wheel.
My phone full of messages telling me I was making the right choice.
And one thought I could not admit to anyone.
I did not want to do it.
Detective Ruiz watched my face.
“What happened after that?”
I swallowed.
“My father called me.”
“And?”
I looked toward the window.
“He told me Alyssa might not have another chance.”
Detective Ruiz wrote it down.
Then she asked the question that made everything inside me freeze.
“What did your father know about your decision before you signed the final paperwork?”
“What did your father know about your decision before you signed the final paperwork?”
The question sat between us.
I wanted to answer immediately.
I wanted to say everything.
The phone calls.
The guilt.
The way his voice changed whenever I sounded uncertain.
The way he always made my fear about someone else’s suffering.
But memories are not always organized when you need them.
They arrive in pieces.
A sentence.
A sound.
A look.
A feeling you ignored because you were too busy surviving.
“I don’t know exactly what he knew,” I said.
Detective Ruiz waited.
“He knew I was scared.”
“That is different from knowing you wanted to withdraw.”
I nodded slowly.
“Yes.”
Alyssa looked at me.
“What happened that night?”
I closed my eyes.
The hospital room disappeared for a moment.
I was back in my car.
Rain tapping against the windshield.
My hands wrapped around a cup of coffee that had gone cold because I had forgotten to drink it.
My phone was on the passenger seat.
Thirty-seven unread messages.
Most of them from family.
Most of them saying some version of the same thing.
Be strong.
We need you.
You are doing the right thing.
The strange part was nobody asked how I felt.
“I called my dad,” I said.
Detective Ruiz looked up.
“Why?”
I thought about that.
Because the answer mattered.
“Because I wanted someone to tell me it was okay not to do it.”
The room became quiet.
Alyssa looked down.
May you like
I continued.
“I didn’t call him because I wanted permission to leave.”
