A burden.

I had raised her single-handedly after her father died when she was eight. I had worked double shifts at the hospital to pay for her college.

I would have ripped my own heart out of my chest and handed it to her if she’d needed it. And some arrogant, manipulative monster had convinced her I was too busy to hold her hand while she died.

Brenda touched my shoulder gently. “Mrs. Hayes? Can we step into the hallway for just a moment?”

I kissed Sarah’s burning forehead, promised I’d be right back, and followed the nurse out the door.

The moment the door clicked shut, the grief in my chest instantly solidified into a cold, terrifying rage.