The words had been said. It was too late to take them back. I wanted so desperately to take my hand and magically shove those words back down my throat, but I couldn't. She looked like she wanted to kill me. There was fear and hatred in her eyes. I guess it was okay I could see those emotions boiling in her eyes. Many times, I had pulled her out of that machine and it seemed as if every time she woke, her eyes faded that much more.

That whole idea about the eyes being the gateway to the soul, I believe that. Hannah's eyes contained every emotion she felt and it was easy to tell when she felt pain. It was honestly a God-given miracle to see anything but that hollow look in her eyes. I wanted to stop that pain so much that I'd lost track of my humanity. Look at me, so attached and disregarding everything my colleagues had told me. I agree that one person can change your life so much.

Just look at how Hannah Baker had changed mine.

"Greg!" yelled Megan. "We're losing her!"

Time seemed to almost stand still. There was so much blood and she looked so pale. I had seen countless other patients come into the ER. Most of them left in body bags.

It was hard to keep up with it all. See, death was a tricky subject in the hospital among doctors, especially in the ER. We had all seen the reaper at some point just suck the life out of a patient lying on a bed. By association, it seemed to suck the life out of us, too. I had come into this hospital all hopped up on that determination to help others and save lives. Yet, slowly it seemed, that same determination had faded and been replaced with the mere instinct to simply survive.

You see, we all have a tragic back story or some push that drove us to want to help others. Most stories start with the feeling of helplessness when someone you care about gets hurt. Mine happened to be the moment my mother decided life just wasn't worth living anymore. I was fourteen years old and life already seemed pretty awful. My body was betraying me, my grades were awful, and I was one of the "floaters" in school who didn't have a best friend. One night, after a long day's work in the fast food biz, I came home to a silent house. I was used to this, having to work late shifts where Mom would fall asleep first, but this night seemed impossibly quieter. I looked down at my grease-stained uniform. I walked into the bathroom to wash off the grease coating my skin in the shower when I found her.

"MOM!" I yelled. I was so confused and scared. She was pale and her eyes were so hollow looking. Gashes of red made their way down her arms. I had looked around the bathroom frantically trying to find a towel to stop the bleeding. I found one and started to wrap her arm in it, the light blue color of the towel slowly turning a deep red and brown.

"Gregory," she said faintly. She looked up at me with those hollow, faded-blue eyes that tore my heart. "This isn't your fault. Don't blame yourself, honey."

"No Mom," I fumbled for the phone in my pocket and shakily dialed 911. "I'm not going to lose you." I chanted it over and over again, even when she stopped breathing.

I could hear the far cry of an ambulance. Red and blue lights danced across the floor coming in from the window as the medics slowly walked out with her body and I sat still chanting that same phrase.

I wasn't going to lose her.

I wasn't going to lose her. I kept chanting that. This girl's hollow, faded-blue eyes struck my heart in a way I wasn't expecting. The deep gashes up her arms cut into my heart and made me sick. It reminded me all too much of my Mom.

It wasn't my fault what happened to this girl and it may not have been my fault that my mother died. But I was going to do something about it this time. I wasn't going to lose this one. Not Hannah.

Hannah's cuts were glued closed and her bleeding had stopped. She had lost an ungodly amount of blood so all we had to do now was supply her with more and keep her heart pumping. It seemed simple enough. Her vitals had seemed normal for a couple of days until one day when she went into sudden cardiac arrest.

I looked over at Megan who was trying desperately to keep Hannah here. I grabbed the defibrillator. I placed both paddles down on her chest and watched as an electric pulse tensed the muscles in her body.

I wasn't going to lose her.

"Again!" commanded Megan. Both paddles were charged and let out a shock.

I wasn't going to lose her.

Hannah's whole body tensed again. Nothing. I was ready to give up when suddenly her heart beat was back to normal. I sighed. Megan and I both looked up at each other with a smile on our faces knowing at least one life had been saved tonight. I looked back down at Hannah and could only see my Mom. I couldn't save her, but at least Hannah could be saved. That's when the real work began for the machine. I worked on it for weeks on end, not knowing the definition of sleep. Finally, I had built a machine that could save people from their horrible realities and thoughts by showing them one without them in it. I knew it could really work and I had a perfect first patient. I glanced over at her from the doorway. Color was coming back to her skin but she looked as if she didn't care that her heart was beating again. I turned my attention back to Mrs. Baker.

"I know you have a way to help my daughter," she said. She looked worn but surprisingly hopeful. "I've researched you Dr. Michaels. I didn't have to do much digging in the way of it. You had a major grant given to you for your research and even though it's only experimental, I would like my daughter to be a test subject."

"Well, she is a minor so I would need both you and your husband's consent," I said. I could see the desperation in her eyes.

"That won't be a problem," she said. "I know Andy will agree to this. We both just want our daughter back." She choked on the last word as she was starting to cry again.

"I'll get the paperwork, Mrs. Baker. You're both good parents for wanting to do this. Don't worry, she'll be alright. She's alive now and that's all that matters for the time being." I glanced over at the hospital bed where Hannah was.

I won't lose her.