The ink smeared slightly as my sweaty hand dragged across the page.

I signed my name.

“Save them,” I choked out. “Please.”

The doctor snatched the clipboard.

“Get him a surgical gown,” he yelled to a nurse as they wheeled Megan out into the corridor.

The metal bed frame scraped against the doorframe, leaving a gray streak on the paint.

I ran after them, my sneakers squeaking on the polished linoleum.

The hallway was bright, lit by harsh fluorescent tubes that made everything look bleached.

Other nurses were running alongside the bed, one of them holding an IV bag high in the air.

Megan’s hand hung over the side of the mattress, swaying back and forth.

I reached out and grabbed it again.

It felt even colder than before.

“I love you, Meg,” I screamed over the sound of the alarms and rushing footsteps.

She didn’t answer.

We reached a set of large, double steel doors with signs that read *RESTRICTED AREA – SURGICAL STAFF ONLY*.

A nurse stopped me, putting her hands on my chest.

“You have to wait here, sir,” she said.