New Year’s Eve. I was thrown out of the hospital. Snow was falling heavily outside. My father’s sponsored student posted on Instagram: “Thank you, Dr. Bennett, for giving the only ICU bed to my mom.” I thought she was just showing off. “Dad, I just had surgery and my wound split open. It really hurts. Can I please go back to my room?” A voice came through the phone: “Aria, how can you fight Linda’s mom for a bed? You just have a superficial wound, but Linda’s mom has a heart condition!” “The hospital’s short on beds. You’re the director’s daughter—if you refuse to leave, what will people think of me? We need to be fair!” I looked at the blood-soaked gauze and lowered my hand: “I understand. I won’t make things difficult for you anymore.” I sat in the snow all night. This time, I really didn’t embarrass him. New Year’s Eve. The snow was heavy. I sat on the edge of a flower bed outside the inpatient building, looking down at my phone. The screen was lit up, showing a post Linda had made a minute ago. The photo showed her in the ICU holding Marcus’s hand by a hospital bed, with the caption: “Thank you, Dr. Bennett, for giving the only ICU bed to my mom.” I turned off the screen. My abdominal wound had split open. Blood was seeping out, soaking through the gauze. Half an hour earlier. A nurse had been rushing me, bleeding heavily post-surgery, toward the ICU. Marcus reached out and stopped the bed. He didn’t look at the medical chart—just pointed at the woman who had just been wheeled in behind him: Linda’s mother. “Transfer her to a regular room. There are no beds available here.” The nurse said: “Marcus, Aria is hemorrhaging badly. All her vitals are dropping. The regular ward doesn’t have monitoring equipment—she could die!” Marcus flipped through Linda’s mother’s medical file without looking up. “She just has a superficial wound. She won’t die. Linda’s mom has a heart condition—she can’t handle any stress.” I reached out and grabbed the hem of his white coat. “Dad, it hurts.” I pulled back the blanket, trying to show him my still-bleeding wound. He shook off my hand. “Aria, you’re a grown woman. How can you fight an elder for a bed?” “Linda’s still a student—her mom is all she has. You’re the director’s daughter. If you refuse to leave, what will people think of me? We need to avoid any appearance of impropriety!” Avoid any appearance of impropriety. Those words again. Linda came running out of the room, crying: “Mr. Bennett, my mom stopped breathing!” Marcus turned and rushed inside. He waved at the security guard outside: “Clear out anyone unnecessary. Don’t interfere with the emergency treatment.” The security guard came over and grabbed my arms. The nurse tried to stop him, but Marcus glared at her through the glass door. I was dragged into the elevator and thrown out of the building. The security guard said: “Miss, don’t make this hard on us. Marcus said you need to clear your head.” I fell into the snow. My phone slid out of my pocket and hit the ground. I tried to call 911, but my fingers were too stiff to unlock the screen. Blood ran down my thighs, congealing into a dark brown stain in the snow. So cold. I remembered the New Year when Mom died. It had been snowing heavily that day too. Mom had a sudden cerebral hemorrhage. I called Dad twenty times while he was at a parent-teacher conference. He didn’t answer. By the time he came home, Mom’s body had already gone rigid. He said: “Aria, you need to understand—those kids need me.” Now, I needed him too. My vision began to go dark. In the distance, someone was setting off fireworks. I dipped my finger in the blood pooling beneath me and wrote my name in the snow. My heart beat one last time. I floated upward. Looking down at my body curled up in the shadow of the flower bed. The hospital’s main door opened. Marcus ran out, wrapped in a coat. He didn’t look toward the flower bed. A news van pulled up at the entrance. A reporter held out a microphone. Linda stood beside her, carrying a thermos. Marcus straightened his tie and walked over to meet them. The reporter said: “Marcus, working on New Year’s Eve to help impoverished patients—what a model of medical compassion.” Marcus took the dumplings Linda handed him: “It’s just what I should do.” Linda smiled at the camera: “Mr. Bennett is the best doctor in the world.” I was less than thirty feet away from them. New snow was already covering my body.
The next day. The TV in the hospital lobby played the interview from last night on a loop. Marcus sat in his office, scrolling through online comments. All of them praised his “selflessness” and “benevolent medical ethics.” Linda pushed the door open, wearing that down jacket. It was the one I’d begged Marcus to buy me last year for my birthday. I hadn’t dared to wear it. I’d kept it hanging in my closet. Linda spun around: “Mr. Bennett, this jacket is so warm.” Marcus smiled: “It looks good on you. It didn’t suit Aria anyway.” I floated in midair, watching Linda slip her hand into my pocket. The duty nurse knocked and came in, carrying a dressing tray. Her eyes were evasive: “Marcus, Aria didn’t return to the regular ward last night, and she didn’t go home either. Her phone’s off. With all that snow, and her wound still needing to be dressed…” Marcus’s smile faded. “Ignore her.” He tossed his phone onto the desk. “She’s just being spoiled. She’s probably hiding at a friend’s place, trying to manipulate me with a pity act.” “Tell the nurses’ station—no one is to look for her. If she comes back, make her write an apology letter first.” The nurse opened her mouth but didn’t dare say more. She backed out. Linda walked over and massaged Marcus’s shoulders. “Mr. Bennett, don’t be angry. Aria probably just feels upset for the moment—like I took her place.” “Actually, I could sleep in the hallway. Let Aria come back to the single room.” Marcus patted Linda’s hand. “You’re too understanding. If she had even half your sense, I’d count my blessings.” “Oh, clear out the VIP room on the top floor for your mom.” I floated in front of him, wanting to scream. That was the room Mom had stayed in before she died. After Mom passed, I’d kept paying for that room myself. It was filled with Mom’s belongings and photos. It was my last home. Marcus pressed the intercom button: “Housekeeping? Go to VIP Room 1 on the top floor. Clear out everything inside. Immediately.” I followed the cleaning staff upstairs. They grabbed trash bags and swept away the photo frames, stuffed animals, and paintings. The glass in the frames shattered, stabbing into Mom’s photos. It was our only family portrait. I reached out to grab it, but my hand passed through the trash bag. The cleaning woman tied the bag shut, dragged it to the stairwell, and threw it in the bin. “This family is heartless. Throwing away such nice things without a second thought.” Linda helped her mother into the room. Her mother sighed: “Talk about a blessing in disguise. Marcus is so good to us.” Marcus’s phone rang. A video call from his sister,Nancy. Marcus put it on speaker. Nancy’s voice came through: “Marcus, where’s Aria? She didn’t come see me for New Year’s, didn’t even send a gift. She’s getting more and more rude!” Marcus snorted coldly: “She’s throwing a tantrum at me right now. Fighting over a hospital bed, acting like she’s dying. Let her be.” Linda leaned into the camera: “Aria’s just being impulsive. Don’t blame her—it’s my fault.” Nancy laughed: “Linda’s the sensible one. Aria’s just spoiled rotten. Let her freeze outside for a while. Once she’s frozen through, she’ll know to come home!” Marcus hung up and sent a message. I floated outside the window, watching those words appear in the chat: “If you don’t get back here and apologize to Linda, you’re paying your own medical bills from now on! Don’t expect me to give you another cent!” In that moment, I felt only relief. Relief that I was already dead. I wouldn’t have to go home. I wouldn’t have to see him. I wouldn’t have to work to pay medical bills. The dead don’t need medical bills.
Linda wandered around the room. She pulled open the bottom drawer of the bedside table. There was a hidden compartment that the cleaning staff had missed. Linda pulled out a box. Inside was a diamond necklace. It was the coming-of-age gift Mom had left me—the last thing she’d put around my neck with her own hands before she lost consciousness. To raise money for surgery, I’d pawned it. The day before my operation, I’d begged the pawn shop owner and bought it back, hiding it here. Linda’s eyes lit up. She pulled out the necklace and held it against her neck. “Mr. Bennett, look at this.” Marcus was reading the newspaper. He glanced over. “That’s from Aria’s mother. I think it’s worth quite a bit.” Linda bit her lip and put down the necklace. “Then I should give it back to Aria. I’m going to my high school reunion tonight, and everyone else has jewelry to wear except me… but it’s fine. I’m not afraid of looking poor.” Marcus put down the paper. “Wear it.” “Aria’s not here anyway. It’ll just collect dust.” I lunged forward, trying to knock over the box. It was useless. Linda put on the necklace, admiring herself in the mirror from every angle. “Thank you, Mr. Bennett! I knew you were the best to me!” The head nurse pushed open the door with medicine. She immediately spotted the necklace around Linda’s neck. The medicine tray clattered to the floor. The head nurse rushed over and grabbed Linda’s wrist: “Take it off! That was left to Aria by her mother. How dare you wear it?!” Linda scrambled behind Marcus. “Mr. Bennett, she’s hurting me…” Marcus stood up and pushed the head nurse away. “What do you think you’re doing? This is my family’s business!” The head nurse’s eyes turned red. She pointed at Marcus: “Marcus, are you even human? That’s Aria’s most precious possession! Yesterday you threw her out in a blizzard, and today you’re giving her mother’s belongings to a stranger?” Marcus’s face darkened. He straightened his cuffs. “I’m her father. I have the right to handle anything in this household.” “Besides, it’s just a necklace. What’s wrong with lending it to Linda for a couple days? If Aria can’t even be that generous, she doesn’t deserve to be my daughter!” The head nurse trembled with rage: “Fine. Marcus, you’re going to regret this.” The head nurse slammed the door on her way out. Marcus turned to comfort Linda: “Don’t listen to her. Wear it out tonight. When you’re done, bring it back.” Linda broke into a smile and pulled out her phone to take a selfie. She posted it on Instagram. Photo: the diamond necklace around her neck. Caption: “New Year’s gift from Mr. Bennett, love you~ Some people just have bad luck and can’t hold onto things.” This post wasn’t hidden from my old classmates. Ten minutes later, my college roommate commented: “That’s Aria’s mother’s heirloom! Are you a thief? Where’s Aria? Let her come out and tear your face off!” Linda deleted the comment and blocked my college roommate. She showed Marcus: “Mr. Bennett, Aria’s friend is cursing at me online, calling me a thief.” Marcus glanced at the screenshot and gripped his phone tightly. “Birds of a feather. What kind of ill-mannered friends is Aria making?” He picked up his phone and called the bank. “Freeze the secondary card under Aria Bennett’s name. Yes, freeze it immediately.” “If she doesn’t learn her lesson, she won’t understand who runs this household.” That card held thirty thousand dollars I’d saved from working. It was also the money I would have used to buy anti-rejection medication if I hadn’t died. Now, the money was gone. And so was I. Perfect.
Day three. Dr. Smith, the attending physician, came back from vacation. He entered the room, saw the empty bed and Linda’s mother eating an apple in the next bed, and his expression changed. He stormed into the director’s office. “Marcus, where’s Aria?!” Marcus was writing a report. He didn’t look up: “She went home in a huff. What, do I need to go beg her to come back?” Dr. Smith slammed the medical file on the desk. “Went home? She’s on day four post-op, her rejection markers are triple the safe level, she has coagulation dysfunction, she could have internal bleeding at any moment! In her condition, being away from monitoring equipment means death! And you let her go home?” Marcus stopped writing and took off his glasses. “Dr. Smith, are you helping her lie to me too?” “When she left last night, she could run and jump, and she was talking back to me—her voice was louder than mine. What internal bleeding?” “She just wants to stay in the hospital and take up public resources. I’m the director—I need to set an example. I can’t let family members get special treatment.” Dr. Smith laughed bitterly. “Marcus, in your obsession with avoiding impropriety, have you lost your mind? That’s your own daughter! I’m calling the police right now.” Dr. Smith pulled out his phone. Linda pushed open the door. “Dr. Smith, don’t call the police. Aria’s fine.” She pulled out a phone and opened a video. The background was heavy snow. A figure stood up from the snow, took a few steps, and walked out of frame. Though the face wasn’t clear, the hospital gown was mine. Linda said: “I shot this last night on my way back to school. Aria fell down, but she got right back up and walked away. If something was really wrong, how could she walk?” I knew that moment. That was the surge before death. I walked five steps, collapsed, and never got up again. The video only showed those first five steps. Marcus pointed at the screen and laughed coldly. “See that? This is what you call ‘about to die’?” “To force me to give in, she’s even learned to fake her death? What a disgrace to this family!” Dr. Smith froze. He looked at the video, then at Marcus, and put down his phone. “Fine. Since she’s okay, I’m staying out of it. Marcus, you’d better pray she really is okay.” Dr. Smith left. Marcus posted the video in the hospital group chat. Caption: “This is my ‘good daughter,’ conspiring with doctors to put on a show to fight for a bed. I, Marcus Bennett, will never tolerate this kind of abuse of privilege!” The group flooded with approval. “Dr. Bennett is so fair!” “Support Dr. Bennett!” At the same time, an anonymous post appeared on the hospital forum. Title: “Director’s Daughter Fights for Bed, Forces Poor Student to Kneel on New Year’s Eve, Gets Thrown Out by Her Own Father!” The post described how domineering I was, how pitiful Linda was, and how Marcus handled it. Below it, thousands of comments—all cursing me. “Why doesn’t someone like this just die?” “With a heart that vicious, she deserves to have her wound split open.” Marcus replied under the post with his real account: “I failed to raise her properly. I apologize for the spectacle. I’ve frozen her card to make her reflect.” This reply pushed the post to the top of the local trending list. I watched Marcus stare at the computer screen, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Outside the hospital flower bed. When the janitor, Joe, was clearing snow, his shovel hit something hard. He dug down and found a hand. Joe fell backward in fright, about to call the police. Linda happened to be walking by—she was picking up a food delivery at the back gate. She immediately recognized the bracelet on that hand. It was the bracelet Mom had woven for me. Linda went pale. She rushed over and pressed down on Joe’s hand. “Don’t call the police!” She pulled out a stack of cash from her bag. “That’s a discarded mannequin from the hospital. Sorry it scared you. Take this money and buy yourself a drink, but please don’t tell anyone. If word gets out that the hospital’s dumping medical waste, Mr. Bennett will get in trouble again.” Joe looked at the money, then at Linda. “It’s really a dummy?” “It really is. I’ll get someone to haul it away and dispose of it right now.” Joe took the money and left. Linda stood by the snow pile. She looked at the fingers sticking out from under the snow, bit her lip, and kicked more snow over them to cover them again. “Aria, don’t blame me.” “Mr. Bennett is about to be promoted to full director. Nothing can go wrong right now.” “Just think of it as helping us one more time.” I floated above her head, watching her tremble as she covered the snow. Linda, you’re finished.
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