My Brother Pulled Out My Mom's Oxygen Tube

Despite my desperate attempts to explain, the security guards still hauled me back to my mother's room. She was barely conscious, gripping my hand with what little strength she had left.

"Emily, don't waste your time looking for your brother. I'm not going to make it. Let's just go home."

Tears welled up in my eyes instantly. I tried to keep my voice steady as I reassured her, "We can't give up now! I'll find a doctor and get another ventilator!"

I said this, but deep down, I knew I was running out of money. I gritted my teeth and asked the doctor if we could get another ventilator.

The doctor shook his head in frustration. "Mr. Johnson's patient only has breathing issues from obesity. They don't need a ventilator!"

I was stunned. How could James take the ventilator meant for our mother and give it to his "Second Mom," Sophia?

I couldn't bear to tell my mother the truth, so I just told her the ventilator would be arriving soon. But my perceptive mother figured it out. "Emily, I know your brother did this on purpose. He still hasn't forgiven me. It's alright."

Unable to hold back my tears any longer, I broke down and clung to her, terrified of losing her.

I rushed to arrange an ambulance from another hospital and had my mother loaded onto the stretcher.

But on the way to the hospital, my mother closed her eyes, her face etched with regret and sorrow. Her rough, frail hand rested gently on my head.

The anguish in my heart was overwhelming. I collapsed as doctors swarmed around her, performing emergency procedures. My strength gave out.

Just a few days ago, she'd been knitting sweaters for me and James. She hadn't even seen us marry or hold her grandchildren.

She would never see another sunrise.

And it was all because of my heartless brother! He was responsible for taking our mother's life!

At that moment, James called. "You can come pick up the ventilator now. It's been used. People who are healthy shouldn't be pretending to be ill and wasting medical resources!"

My anger erupted. I shouted, "James, do you even have a heart? You took Mom's ventilator and gave it to someone else! Do you even understand-- "

"That patient needed it more! I'm a doctor; I allocate resources based on need. What's wrong with that?"

Before I could finish, James started arguing back, showing no concern for our mother.

I felt completely betrayed like James was a stranger.