Chapter 6 - Into the Theater
The operating theater was cold, bathed in the sharp, clinical glow of overhead surgical lamps. Cora lay small and vulnerable under the green sterile drapes. Machines beeped in a steady, rhythmic cadence, monitoring her breathing and heartbeat.
Dr. Harrison stood over the operating table, scalpel in hand, glancing at the anesthesia monitor one last time. "Let's begin."
Outside, in the waiting room, Bennett sat in absolute solitude. The clock on the wall ticked with agonizing slowness. Hour after hour passed. He stared at his empty hands, realizing how poorly he had protected the one precious gift Naomi had left him. He had punished Cora for the crime of surviving, blinding himself to her love, her innocence, and now, her physical suffering.
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As the digital clock ticked past midnight, Bennett dropped to his knees right there on the hospital floor—not out of forced penance, but in raw, desperate prayer.
“Please, God,” he wept silently into the empty corridor. “Take me instead. Just let my little girl live.”
