When I opened my eyes again, my whole body felt strangely light. Every trace of pain was gone.For a moment, I thought I'd made it through the surgery.Then I heard Ella's young voice, choked with sobs."Mom, what's wrong? Wake up, Mom."I turned toward the sound.My six-year-old daughter was kneeling beside the clinic bed, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe.On the bed in front of her lay my body, pale and completely still.That was when it hit me.Oh. I hadn't made it.I was dead.It made sense, really. We were broke, so I'd had the surgery at a small private clinic.Afterward, I hadn't been given antibiotics or even painkillers.Once the anesthesia wore off, the pain became unbearable. I could feel myself slipping away.Still, I accepted my death surprisingly quickly. I wasn't even that upset.Our family was drowning in debt and desperate for money. If my death could give Julian and Ella a secure future, maybe it was worth it.Just as I had that thought, a man in a white coat
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