For the first time, David’s expression changed.
He looked toward the medical transport workers.
“Take her upstairs.”
The security officers moved between them.
A confrontation began in the hallway.
David suddenly pulled a second document from his jacket.
“This is her advance medical directive.”
Samuel examined it.
His face turned pale.
It authorized the withdrawal of certain forms of life-sustaining treatment under circumstances David claimed were already present.
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I understood immediately.
He wasn’t simply trying to move me.
**He was attempting to obtain legal permission to let me die.**
Samuel looked at David.
“Where did you get this?”
David smiled.
“She signed it herself.”
Samuel examined the signature.
Then he noticed something.
The document was dated six months before my illness.
I had never signed it.
David stepped backward.
“What’s wrong?”
Samuel looked at the security officers.
“Nobody touches her.”
David’s smile disappeared.
Then, from the staircase, Jessica screamed.
