Hi everyone! If you need an angsty story, well here you go. I am ready to provide you with one. If you are looking for a lighter story I suggest my other story Sink or Swim. Today I reread the story My Sister's Keeper by Jodi Picoult (it's one of my favorite books that makes me cry) and this story was inspired. It will be similar, but also very different from that story. So it is not an original idea by me, just my own take. This prologue is in first person, but I am pretty sure chapter 1 will be in 3rd person. Enjoy!

Pretty Lies, Ugly Truth

The weight of the world comes crashing down, pressing against my chest, making my lungs collapse so that no air can escape. This can't be real, I think to myself. My head shakes, as my body trembles. I can feel my lips quivering, but no sound comes out. The weight is too heavy. Everything is spinning.

I often wondered if I was a good enough mother for her, for all of my children. Life had dealt us a crappy hand of cards. This was a pain we had prepared for and yet now that it is here, I am not ready. I was never ready, not really.

His hand comes up to rest on my shoulder. My rock. Slowly, I bring my hand up to rest on top of his and a strangled sob leaves my lips.

"Anna," his voice is calm and it makes me want to scream. But as I turn to face him, I see his eyes filled with tears, barely holding it together. My lips pull tightly and I swallow hard. I have to refrain myself from falling into his arms right now. Now is the time for goodbyes, now is the time to hold her hand one last time. Later, I can let myself crumble and scream. Not now.

My breath shudders out of my lips and I turn back to her. Slowly, I sit in the chair next to the hospital bed. John walks up behind me, his hand back on my shoulder. With careful movements, as though I can hurt her, my fingers lace through hers and I squeeze her hand. I remember her first laugh, her first steps.

Her fingernails are painted a bluish color. Just two days ago, she was telling me how she needed me to repaint her nails. Now, I can see why. The edges are chipped. I wonder if they'll let me paint them one last time.

My eyes move up from her fingers to her hand in mine. It's still warm. This doesn't feel real. It shouldn't be real. No parent should have to go through this, but I know they do every day.

My eyes continue to follow the path of her arm and then fall on her chest. It rises and falls with the help of a ventilator. My breath catches in my throat. John's hand tightens on my shoulder in response.

"I….I can't do this," I whisper. I feel as John shifts behind me and soon he's sitting on the edge of her bed so he's next to me.

"That's not our daughter, Anna," John murmurs. His hand comes over mine and hers. His thumb runs over her knuckles and his own breath gets caught in his throat. "She's not here, not anymore. Machines are keeping her alive."

"I….I don't care," my voice is now a strangled cry.

"Anna." His hands have come to rest on my cheeks to make me meet his eyes. He's always been the voice of reason, the one to keep me together for these past ten years when the nightmare began. "It's time to say goodbye."

The heaviness grows harder against my lungs. I'm not sure how I am breathing or staying upright. I want to dissolve into a puddle on the floor. I don't know how I am supposed to survive this moment.

I think of when I held her in my arms for the first time. Her little lips had curled up and she had smiled. The nurse told me it was just gas, but I knew differently. That little bundle had trusted me and I had let her down. It had been my job to protect her, but I hadn't. When it came down to it, I was told to choose. At the time, I had told myself I was doing what was best for all three of my children. In the end, was it? Had I let down two in order to protect one?

I nod my head, although it breaks my heart into more pieces than I knew it was able. John's hands slip from my cheeks. He stands, flipping the switch on the machine that is keeping our daughter alive. Then he places his hand back over hers and mine and the two of us watch as our daughter's chest stops rising.

"John," my voice breaks. He turns to me, but his hand doesn't leave hers. Mine doesn't either. It's then the dam breaks. Our daughter is gone.

To be continued...

The first chapter will be back at the beginning. This is the end of the story, we have to see how they got here. If you are interested in more, let me know! Thank you for taking the time to read. :)