The Golden Dream I Could Never Wake From

On the day I was diagnosed as brain-dead, I laughed.

Because I believed I had been reborn.

In that beautiful, fleeting vision, I didn't go to prison to cover for my sister. Instead, I passed my exams, got into a prestigious university, met a wonderful man, and was about to walk down the aisle into a beautiful marriage.

But just as I reached out to take my grooms hand, the scene began to dissolve.

The brilliant lights faded into a crushing, suffocating darkness. The music died, replaced by the sterile smell of hospital disinfectant and the rhythmic, hollow beep of medical monitors.

There was no fianc, no justice, and no fresh start.

The wonderful life I had just lived was nothing more than a dying brain's final, cruel trick, a dream from which I could never truly wake.

Above me, a familiar voice trembled with tears.

"Dr. Brooks, please. Is there really no other way? Can we really not just turn off the machines?"

It was my mother, Martha. Her voice was thick with weeping.

All my life, whenever my half-sister, Gemma, and I had a conflict, my mother would adopt this exact same tearful, pleading face, always begging me to make the sacrifice.

"Mrs. Lane," the doctor replied, his voice calm and professional. "The patient is in a deep, vegetative coma."

"Though her breathing is incredibly weak, the ventilator is keeping her stable. Pulling the plug means immediate death. As her mother, have you fully considered this?"

My mind screamed in terror. Vegetative state? Pulling the plug? Immediate death?

I fought to cry out. I'm not dead! I can hear you! I'm still in here! Mother, please, save me!

But my body refused to respond. Not even a finger would twitch.

"I've made up my mind," Martha sobbed, her hand gently brushing against my cheek.

Her palm was warm, just as it had been for the twenty-odd years she used to tuck me into bed. But the words that followed froze the very blood in my veins.

"Its been three years. Grace was beaten so badly in that place, and she has lain here like a corpse ever since. She has suffered too much."

"Since she can't wake up, letting her go is a mercy."

She sniffled, her voice catching as she continued. "Besides, today... today is Gemmas wedding day."

"Gemma told me she has carried this guilt in her heart for years. She said as long as her sister is lingering like this, she will never be able to find peace in her marriage."

"Doctor, Grace already took the blame for her sister once."

"Today is a joyous day. Let her leave this world in peace. Let her passing clear the air for her sister's wedding. We shouldn't let her linger and ruin the auspicious hour."

A cold horror washed over me.

Took the blame? Clear the air?

My chest felt incredibly tight. I wanted to scream, to laugh at the absurdity of it, but my throat was blocked, and no tears would come.

Five years ago, a car with a blood-stained hood had pulled into our yard.

Gemma had huddled in the corner of the sofa, shaking violently. Our mother had fallen to her knees, clutching my legs.

"Grace! I beg of you! Your sister has the civil service entrance exam next month!"

"She can't have a criminal record! Youre the younger sister, and you don't have a career yet. Just help me this once. Go to the station and tell them you were the one driving!"

I had stared at my mother in utter disbelief. "Mom! She hit someone and fled the scene! You want me to take the fall for that?"

"I will go to prison! Stand up, we need to call the police. Let Gemma turn herself in; maybe they'll show her mercy!" I had tried to pull her up, crying.

"No! Grace, Gemma doesn't have a father. She only has me!"

"If you don't save her, I will end my life right in front of you!"

My mother had begun striking herself across the face, over and over, until blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.

"Just let it go, Grace. I beg of you, please..."

"I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you, I swear!"

That desperate plea had sent me to the police station in Gemma's place. Because I couldn't bear to watch my mother destroy herself, I took a seven-year sentence.

But I didn't receive any compensation. All I found in that prison was living hell.

The sharp click of high heels drew near, the scent of expensive perfume cutting through the smell of disinfectant.

"Mom, what did the doctor say?" Gemma asked.

My mothers voice turned anxious. "Gemma, why are you here in your wedding dress? That's bad luck!"

"Today is my big day, how could I not come to see my sister?"

The sound of rustling fabric followed as she stepped closer to my bed.

"Grace, look at me. Isn't your sister beautiful today?"

"This gown is custom-made. Nolan had it flown in from Paris just for me."

Gemmas tone was filled with a familiar, condescending triumph. She reached down, her hand resting on the back of my wrist.

In the next second, her manicured nails dug deep into the tender flesh of my inner arm.

She pinched, twisting her fingers a full hundred and eighty degrees.

An agonizing pain flared through my arm, but I couldn't make a sound.

"Oh, her hands are so cold," Gemma gasped, her voice dripping with mock concern.

She dug her nails in even deeper, puncturing the skin until a thin trickle of blood began to seep out.

My mother wiped her eyes. "Yes, shes had a hard life. Gemma, you really are a wonderful sister."

"If Grace could feel this, knowing you came to see her in your wedding dress, she would be so comforted."

I felt a bitter, freezing anger.

Mother, open your eyes! Look at what your precious daughter is doing!

She is mutilating your child right in front of you!

"Mrs. Lane," the doctor called out. "Since you've made your decision, please sign the consent form to withdraw life support."

"Once we remove the tube, she will pass away from respiratory failure within ten minutes."

"Alright... I'll sign," Marthas voice shook.

I screamed in the silence of my mind, begging her not to. I tried to focus every ounce of my will on my fingertips, desperate to make them move, but my body remained heavy and unresponsive.

Despair settled over me like a shroud.

The door to the room opened.

"Gemma, why are you still here? The wedding cars have been waiting downstairs for over half an hour."

"We're going to miss the entrance hour."

Footsteps stopped near the foot of my bed. It was Nolan.

He was the university senior I had secretly loved for four years, and now, he was Gemmas fianc.

Gemma let go of my arm, her voice turning soft. "Nolan, I just couldn't leave her. Seeing her like this, how can I focus on my wedding?"

"Why are you wasting your tears on her? Shes just a convict," Nolan said, his voice laced with disgust.

"She was jealous of everything you had, so she stole your car and ran someone over."

"She deserved to be locked up. Honestly, being beaten into a vegetable in prison is just karma catching up to her."

The sheer absurdity of his words made me want to laugh.

Gemma was the one who had taken my car that rainy night. When she came back covered in blood, I was the one who took the fall. Nolan knew nothing of the truth; he only saw the sweet, fragile victim Gemma played so well.

"Nolan, don't say that about my sister. She... she was just impulsive."

"Shes spent three years paying for her mistake. Shes suffered enough," Gemma murmured.

"You're too kind, Gemma. A cold-blooded criminal like her doesn't deserve your sympathy."

Nolan turned to my mother. "Mrs. Lane, if you've made your decision, please sign the papers. Keeping this depressing presence around on Gemma's wedding day is only going to bring bad luck to the marriage."

Depressing presence.

The words stung, and a hot spark of rage flared in my chest.

I wondered how my mother would react to someone speaking about me that way.

Martha only sighed. "Yes, Nolan is right."

"Gemma, your sister wouldn't want to stand in the way of your happiness."

She reached into her bag, and the scent of mothballs drifted over the bed.

"I bought this floral dress for Grace when she turned eighteen," my mother said softly. "It was her favorite. Once she passes, Ill burn it for her."

"She came into this world clean, and she should leave it clean."

"Her father won't blame her when she meets him on the other side."

My mother's tears fell onto my blanket.

I knew she loved me in her own weak, twisted way. When we were kids, she would secretly save treats for me. When Gemma hurt me, she would quietly apply ointment to my cuts when no one was looking.

But her weakness had allowed her to sacrifice me to protect Gemma, and now, she was about to end my life.

This wasn't a mercy.

I was fully conscious.

Even when those three inmates had held my head under the water in the prison washroom, I had never given up on the hope of living. Even when my skull was fractured and the blood ran hot down my face, I wanted to survive to look my mother in the eye.

I wanted to ask her if I had finally paid my debt of birth to her.

And now, she was going to pull the plug herself, just so she wouldn't delay Gemmas wedding.

"Mrs. Martha Lane, please sign here."

"Once you sign, we will turn off the ventilator and remove the tube," the nurse instructed.

The sound of a pen scratching against paper filled the quiet room.

My mothers hand was shaking, the pen clattering against the table.

"Mrs. Lane, just sign. Its better to end the pain quickly," Nolan urged.

I waited in the dark for the end.

The beautiful dream of my wedding was gone, leaving me to face the harsh reality of my death.

My mother leaned down, her tear-stained cheek pressing against mine.

"Grace... I'm so sorry."

"In your next life, find a better mother. Don't be my daughter again."

"I was too weak to protect you."

The pen moved.

She signed her name.

The steady line on the heart monitor began to waver, and a cold dread settled deep in my chest.

Nolan took the form and handed it to the doctor. "It's signed. Thank you, doctor."

"Very well. The extubation process can sometimes cause involuntary spasms."

"The sight can be distressing for family members. If you wish, you may wait outside," the doctor advised.

"Nolan, why don't you help the doctor prepare the equipment?" Gemma suggested.

"I want to stay with my sister for a few more minutes, just to say goodbye."

Nolan placed a hand on her shoulder. "Alright. Don't be too sad. I'll be waiting just outside the door."

"Mrs. Lane, why don't you come out and get some fresh air too?"

"No! I want to stay with my Grace..." my mother wept.

"Mom! Please go outside!" Gemmas voice hardened, her tone leaving no room for argument.

The weeping stopped. My mother had never dared to cross Gemma.

As the footsteps retreated and the door clicked shut, only Gemma and I remained in the room.

I heard the slide of the lock.

Gemma climbed onto a chair, her heels clicking against the plastic as she reached up to switch off the security camera.

A chill ran down my spine. What was she planning to do?

She walked back to my bedside, a soft, malicious laugh escaping her lips.

"Finally... its finally over, my dear sister."

She leaned down, her weight pressing heavily against my chest, making it difficult to breathe.

She brought her lips close to my ear. "Do you want to know why I insisted on watching you die today?"

"Because yesterday, the nurse called me. She said your finger had twitched."

"I couldn't risk you waking up."

The heart monitor began to beep more rapidly, the lines spiking on the screen.

Gemma reached out, her fingers pinching my jaw, pressing down with brutal force.

"Save your energy. Even if you can hear me, what does it matter?"

"In a few minutes, you'll be nothing but a corpse."

She smiled, her voice a cruel whisper. "Grace, you must feel so betrayed."

"You took the fall for me."

"And yet, you still ended up with a fractured skull in prison, turned into this pathetic, half-dead creature."

My mind reeled. Did she arrange the attack in prison?

"That's right. Those three inmates? I paid them to take care of you."

"Our foolish mother kept talking about trying to get your sentence reduced. She wanted you out early."

"But you had to stay quiet. You had to remain a useless vegetable so Nolan would stay with me. The only stain on my past had to be buried forever," Gemma laughed, her voice dripping with malice.

She was completely insane.

I fought with everything I had to move, to strike back, but my body remained a useless cage.

This was the reward for sacrificing my future. This was the daughter my mother had risked everything to protect.

"Oh, and as a parting gift, I'll share one last secret with you."

Gemmas fingers slid down to my throat, resting right over my carotid artery.

"That rainy night, the car didn't slide on the wet road."

"The old woman was blocking my path, muttering to herself. I was annoyed, so I just stepped on the gas."

"I had no idea she would fly so far," Gemma said casually.

It wasn't an accident. It was murder.

The monitors alarm began to shriek as my heart rate spiked to a dangerous hundred and forty. Pure, unadulterated fury and hatred flooded my veins.

"Why is the door locked? Gemma! Open the door!"

"The alarms are going off! The doctor says shes fading!" my mothers frantic voice called out, banging on the glass.

Gemma stepped back, delivering a sharp slap to my face.

"Go to hell, sister."

She walked to the door and unlocked it.

The door was pushed open, and the doctor, nurses, Nolan, and my mother rushed inside.

"Doctor! Look at the monitor! Why is her heart beating so fast?"

"Is she getting better?" my mother cried, pointing at the screen.

"It's not an improvement. She suddenly started convulsing earlier. She must be in so much pain."

"Doctor, please, help her find peace!" Gemma sobbed, her face instantly shifting back into a mask of grief.

The doctor checked the vitals. "This is just involuntary neural activity before death. We need to proceed with the extubation; otherwise, she will only suffer more."

The physical pain of death was nothing compared to the agony in my soul.

"Step back, please," the nurse said, pushing my mother away.

The doctor stepped to the head of the bed, his hand resting on the ventilator's power switch.

Another nurse picked up medical scissors, preparing to cut the tape holding the tube in place.

"My sweet Grace!"

Just as the doctor was about to flip the switch, my mother let out a desperate cry and threw herself forward, grabbing the nurse's hand.

A tiny spark of hope flared in my chest. I thought she had finally realized the truth and was going to stop them.

Even at the edge of death, I was still foolish enough to hope for her love.

But her next words shattered that hope forever.

She didn't push the nurse away. Instead, she reached out and grasped the breathing tube herself.

"Doctor... let me do it. I'm her mother... let me send her on her way."

Her warm tears fell onto my face, feeling colder than ice.

"Grace, don't hate me. I don't want to let you go."

"But Gemma is getting married today. She can't carry this burden into her new life..."

"You want what's best for your sister, too, don't you? Just... help her one last time."

"Go in peace, my good child. I'll be right here with you. Find a better home in your next life."

Help her one last time.

Those words completely severed the remaining bond between us.

What right did they have to decide my death?

Gemma was a murderer.

And Martha was her blind accomplice, ready to kill her own child to clear the way for a monster.

Why should a murderer walk down the aisle while I was choked to death in a sterile room?

I refused to accept this.

If I was going down, I was going to drag both of them into the dark with me.

The ventilator was switched off.

The oxygen supply died, and a terrifying, suffocating panic gripped my body.

But in that agony of suffocation, a surge of adrenaline flooded my system.

My mother's hand began to pull the tube from my throat.

Gemmas lips curved into a triumphant smile, and Nolan let out a sigh of relief.

But in that exact second, my body convulsed violently.

The eyes that had been sealed shut for three years snapped wide open.

My bloodshot eyes stared straight up at the ceiling.

"Ah!"

The nurse let out a sharp scream, dropping her scissors onto the tile floor.

The room went dead silent.

"Grace...?" My mother froze, her hand still holding the tube.

She began to tremble, her terror turning into a sudden, desperate hope.

"A miracle... it's a miracle! Doctor! My daughter is awake! She doesn't want to die!"

"She wants to live!" my mother sobbed, letting go of the tube and reaching out to hold me.

But it was too late.

I opened my dry, cracked lips, a raspy sound escaping my throat.

Before her hand could touch my face, my arm shot up.

I grabbed her wrist with terrifying strength, my fingernails digging deep into her skin.

My mother gasped in pain, staring at me in shock.

Near the door, the smile on Gemma's face froze, replaced by pure terror. Nolan quickly stepped in front of her, shielding her.

I didn't look at either of them.

My eyes remained locked on Martha.

Looking at the tears and the sudden hope on her face, I felt a deep wave of revulsion.

Ignoring the agony in my throat, I used my free hand to grab the breathing tube.

Under the shocked gazes of everyone in the room, I ripped the tube from my own windpipe.

A spray of dark blood splattered across my mothers face and stained the pristine white skirt of Gemmas wedding gown.

"Grace! What are you doing? Are you mad?"

My mother lunged forward to stop the bleeding, but I threw her hand off. The sudden rush of cold air into my damaged lungs sent a burning pain through my chest.

I let out a harsh, wet laugh, spitting blood onto the sheets as I stared at her.

My voice was a ragged whisper, but it cut through the room.

"Mom... you wanted me to die so she could have her perfect wedding?"

I turned my head slowly, my eyes sliding past Gemma to rest on Nolans face.

"You don't know the truth, do you?"

"Nolan... the old woman Gemma ran down on that rainy night..."

The room was completely silent, save for the sound of my ragged breathing.

"That was your grandmother, the one who went missing ten years ago."