Most people don't have to experience the burden of choosing between life of death. Most people - aside from Grady Rothchild.
He had just married the love of his life, Antigone, a few short days ago. The wedding was surreal, magical. It was the day Grady had been waiting for since the moment he proposed to the starry-eyed brunette with the bubbly personality.
Now, he feared, the bubbliness would be lost forever. Flashbacks riddled his brain as he stared at the bruised and broken girl that lay in front of him.
They had left for Panama after the wedding, a perfect honeymoon awaiting them. Once they arrived, they hadn't expected things to turn from beautiful to horrid within a day.
They had checked into their hotel, ate dinner at a steamy grill downtown, and went on a walk beside the bustling street, drinking in the summery atmosphere.
They had been too busy talking and laughing and intertwining their fingers together to see the oncoming headlights. The drunk driver ran up on the curb and kept going, slamming right into Antigone.
Grady fell to the ground by his wife, gripping her small hand and breathing frantically. She was still breathing, but each breath came out strangled and rapid.
"Hold on, Baby. I'm calling for help...just stay awake." He said, sweeping her hair out of her bloody face.
He had called for help, but his advice was of no use. By the time the ambulance had arrived, Antigone had slipped out of consciousness.
She had been in a coma ever since, her brain slowly giving away on her. Grady sat in the silence of the hospital room, crying tears that just wouldn't come.
His fingers were folded against his face and his thoughts only seemed to become deeper.
What was he to do? The doctor had said that if he didn't pull the plug, Antigone would surely have significant brain damage, assuming that she'd wake up. The only source of air came from the machine, the trauma to her lungs too significant to breathe on her own.
He'd been left with a choice that no one ever wants to make. The selfishness inside him told him to refuse, but the thought of how hard Antigone's life would be was too much to bear.
Grady was brought out of his thoughts by the squeak of the heavy oak door. "Hi, Mr. Rothchild," the doctor stood in the doorway, smiling sympathetically at the broken man, "have you made a decision?"
Grady paused, his eyes glazed over as he stared at some spot far away. After a long hesitation, he finally answered, "Yes, I have."
Antigone could hear the voices from some distant place. They seemed to be miles and miles away. She tried to open her eyes, but couldn't.
"And what is your choice?" An unfamiliar voice asked.
"I-I want to pull the plug," Antigone frowned as she realized that voice belonged to her husband. What was this talk about pulling a plug?
She tried to sit up, but her body wouldn't move. "I trust that that's the right decision, Mr. Rothchild. There's no telling how damaged she might be if she were to wake up."
How damaged she might be? Antigone would have frowned at that moment, if only she could. Were they talking about her?
"Just get it done please, I can't take it anymore," she heard Grady's voice crack with sobs. She wanted to cry herself at the sadness in his voice.
"Okay, I just need you to sign this confirming her death." The doctor said. "Okay," Grady sobbed again.
Wait. Death?
Antigone tried to open her eyes again, she tried to open her mouth to talk - but no words came.
"Here," Grady said quickly, "I don't want to be in here when you do it." Antigone listened at his retreating footsteps. The door slammed shut.
Another pair of footsteps approached her, "Poor girl. I'm sorry it had to be this way," the doctor said, anguish painting his words.
Antigone worked with all her might to move, to speak, to do anything that would get his attention. But all she was left with was her silent thoughts. Wait, don't do this! I don't want to die yet!
The words never made it out of her mouth. The last thing she heard was a long, drawn out beeeeep.
