"Please stop, Arthur," Sarah whispered, her hands gently pinning his to the bed.
He had been trying to remove the mask again, his movements frantic, his eyes wide with a terror that Sarah couldn't quite name.
The alarms were rising, a crescendo of mechanical panic. But as Sarah restored the mask, the room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence.
"This bed took her," Arthur said, his voice a ghost of a sound. "I want it to take me too. It’s only fair. It shouldn't get to keep her and leave me."
"Sarah looked at the sterile, white-lit room. To her, it was a place of science. To him, it was a thief."
"It didn't take her, Arthur," Sarah said, her voice steady. "It held her. It gave you those last moments. Don't let the thief win by taking you too."
Arthur didn't answer. He just stared at the ceiling, waiting for a sign that never came.