In Defense of a Murderer

Once again, the call ended on me.

I didn't think a few words from Gigi would lead Zachary to misunderstand that it was my mother who got into an accident. He also thought I was asking for money to give to my brother.

Staring at the stack of hospital invoices in my hand and the nurse waiting for me at the door, I felt anxious and frustrated. I tried to call Zachary again, only to find that I had been blacklisted. Feeling more and more distressed, I tried all sorts of ways to get in touch with him, to no avail.

He kept saying he was busy, yet he didn't seem to think it was a waste of time to blacklist me everywhere. Moreover, it was his own mother whose life was hanging by a thread right now! How could he believe Gigi's baseless claims?

It took all my effort to stop myself from losing my composure in front of everyone at the hospital. Now was not the time to confront Zachary about this. Nothing mattered more than Marie's life.

I reached out to a few friends and started asking if I could borrow money from them. Once I had 100 thousand dollars, I hurriedly went down to make payment to the hospital. By the time I got back to the operating room, the back of my blouse had been soaked through with sweat.

I clenched my hands as I stared at the red light outside the operation room. I kept praying for Marie to be alright. She had always been kind to me. Knowing that my parents favored my brother over me, she loved me as if I were her own daughter.

Marie divorced Zachary's father a long time ago and raised Zachary by herself. However, she wasn't the type to feel possessive over him. Instead, she respected us and gave us our privacy by choosing to stay alone elsewhere. She would drop by every week to visit us and bring us some of our favorite food.

During her last call with Zachary, he had off-handedly mentioned missing her homemade pickles, but she took it to heart. As soon as she prepared a new batch, she brought it right over to us.

She only needed to cross a road to get back to her place, and yet, she ended up getting into an accident while doing so.

According to the kind person who brought Marie to the hospital, the driver who hit Marie seemed to have been a drunk driver who was speeding. Marie had been knocked several feet away and lost a lot of blood.

Recalling what the nurse said earlier, I felt uneasy.

When the doctor came out of the operating room, he shook his head and sighed, saying, "The surgery happened too late. We tried our best, and the patient has regained consciousness, but… Well, you can go in and talk to her now."

The last shreds of my hope shattered. Knees going weak, I crashed onto the floor as tears rolled down my cheeks. However, I couldn't waste any time. I climbed back up clumsily and entered the hospital room where Marie had been taken. She was hooked up to all sorts of machines.

Just a few hours ago, she was smiling and telling me she would bring over some of her homemade pastries for me to try. But now, she was lying on a hospital bed, looking rather pale.

When Marie saw me, she did her best to squeeze out a smile.

"You're here, Annie. Where's Zachary?"