Chapter 3 Press On

Despite the pain, I crawled into the elevator. The group chasing me nearly caught up, but the doors slid shut just before their hands could reach me.

Sweat soaked through my shirt as pain surged through my body, clinging tightly to my skin. Watching the floor numbers climb, I finally let out a breath of relief.

The pain in my legs was giving way to a sense of numbness, and I knew time was running out.

The disembodied voice announced, "11th Floor, Donation Department."

The scream for help died in my throat as the doors slid away to reveal the trio standing outside. "Where do you think you're going, Dr. Greenwood?"

They were all breathing hard, but I felt as if my very soul had frozen with fear.

"God, you can run. Good thing we caught up to you, Dr. Greenwood."

"Stop messing around, Cynthia. Donation isn't a game. I can't let you kill yourself!"

"What's wrong with your legs, Dr. Greenwood?" Yvonne asked gently, though there was nothing gentle in her eyes. "Maybe we should take you back and comfort you."

Twenty minutes left until the surgery. Twenty minutes left until the cancer transfer was done. If I missed this window, I was done for.

The trio hauled me and tried to shove me into the elevator. They wanted to close the doors, but I forced them open, even as my arms screamed in pain. Desperate, like someone clinging to the last straw of hope, I crawled forward.

I sank my nails into my captors as I screamed, "Help!"

The donation department did not have many staff to begin with, and the workday was almost over. Most people were resting in their offices, and my cries went unheard.

Zoey, wincing from the damage my nails had done to her, slapped me as hard as she could. "God, you're a nuisance! Your nails are killing me! You did this to yourself."

My arms were still on fire, but I refused to let the doors close. The trio's impatience was mounting. They slammed their feet onto my hands in an attempt to make me let it go.

"You're impossibly stubborn!" Zoey grabbed her pen and uncapped it. Just when she was about to jab it right into my hand, a deep voice echoed from afar.

"This is a hospital! What are you doing, arguing like banshees?"

Tears of joy nearly streamed down my cheeks, but they dried up once I saw who the man was.

"What are you doing here, Donald?"

Donald had my consent letter in his hands. His face was a storm in contrast to Yvonne's smile.

"This is overkill, Cynthia. The head of the donation department called me and asked me to talk you out of it. How embarrassing."

Yvonne let out a breath of relief, then quickly put on the expression of someone unfairly wronged. "We just wanted to take her back, but she refused to let us. We don't want her to do anything rash."

Her admirers played along and complained about how difficult I was. Donald's expression darkened even further.

Time was running out. I pleaded with Donald. "Please, for old times' sake, take me back so I can rest. Please."

Dealing with Donald was a lot better than the alternative named Yvonne.

There was shock in his eyes. I had always been independent and seldom relied on anyone. Of course, I'd never begged for his help before.

He was going to pull me up, but Yvonne pushed his hand down. "You have an operation to handle. We can take her back."

Donald smacked his head. "God, I nearly forgot about that. Thanks, Yvonne. You're sweet. I'll leave her to you."

"No, no, no!"

Donald ignored my protests, but he crouched and pushed my disheveled hair aside. "Be a good girl. I'll pick you up later."

Then he walked off and didn't turn around no matter how much I begged. The doors slowly slid shut, and Yvonne declared smugly, "No one's coming, Dr. Greenwood."

That look on her face reminded me of the hundreds of diseases I had endured in my previous life. I refused to go through that again.

I grabbed the pen Zoey threw away and stabbed my thigh. Blood dyed my pants red. The pain shocked my legs into moving for a moment.

While the three of them were caught off guard, I slipped through the narrowing gap just before the doors closed.

They tried to come after me, but the doors were firmly shut.

I dragged my body across the corridor, and then I heard their footsteps echo. Quickly, I darted into an empty ward nearby.

The trio was shouting, and their footsteps were getting nearer and nearer. I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed for a miracle.

Ten minutes left.

Then, someone tapped my shoulder. "Where are you going, Dr. Greenwood?"