At His Service (SLOW UPDATES)

The cold, hard hospital floor pressed against Emberly's weary body, a constant, chilling reminder of her mother's fading life. Every tick of the clock was a hammer blow, driving deeper the hopelessness that clung to her like a shroud. The doctors' words echoed, hollow and cruel: a heart transplant, no donors, only a miracle.

Her father, a pillar of strength now crumbling, tried to offer comfort, but his eyes mirrored her own shattered despair. How could life be so unfair? She closed her eyes, conjuring images of her mother's vibrant laughter, the warmth of shared Christmases, the vivid memory of her packing for Malaysia, clutching her chest.

Then, a sudden, icy shiver jolted her. Opening her eyes, she scanned the sterile clock, its hands mocking their plight. She had to do something. As she walked the long, sterile corridors, past countless wards, a silent vow formed: she would never end up in one of these beds. She hated the look, the smell, the crushing weight of this place.

Summoning a doctor, she spoke her mother's name, her voice trembling despite her efforts. The doctor, after a brief glance at a file, met her eyes with a look of practiced pity. "I'm sorry Miss Rae; all you can do is wait." The words ignited a furious fire within her. Two weeks. Two bloody weeks of waiting, while her mother suffered. "Wait?" she scoffed, her voice rising, "Do you really expect me to wait? Please enjoy watching my father and I suffer to the core!"