Thanks for Making Me Hate You
My daughter, Annabelle Turner, was diagnosed with hereditary heart disease. I spent the past five years searching for a compatible heart donor for her.
Now, I finally found one.
Right before Annabelle is sent into the surgery room, my husband and renowned cardiologist, Gabriel Turner, tearfully makes me a promise.
"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll make sure Annabelle gets a shot at life again."
Yet halfway through the surgery, Gabriel suddenly leaves in a hurry without giving any explanation.
I stumble into the surgery room and see Annabelle lying on the operating table, covered in blood. Her chest is cut wide open, laid bare for all to see.
Tyler Rotwell, Gabriel's assistant, stammers out, "Dr. Turner said… that Anna can still hold on a little longer, but Ms. Byron's son can't.
"Dr. Turner took the heart that was meant for Anna and left…"
I immediately break down and repeatedly call Gabriel's number, but Gabriel never answers a single call, not even when Anna's blood has completely dried…
While settling my daughter's post-mortem affairs, I happen to see a newly posted update on Gabriel's childhood friend, Suzanne Byron's social media.
"Turns out it was just a misdiagnosis," was what the caption read. "In that case, let's give this useless little thing to our good boy Oscar as a treat!"
The video attached depicts Suzanne's dog Oscar tearing into the heart that was supposed to be donated to Annabelle.
As I turn to look at Annabelle's cold body, the last shred of love I have for Gabriel starts crumbling apart.
By the time Gabriel finally remembers Annabelle, whom he left on the operating table, only an empty bedroom and an urn containing her ashes would greet him…