My pulse raced, my grip tightened around their delicate hand. The feeling of guilt flooded my stomach. Rocks weighed down my lungs preventing me from breathing. Thoughts of what I could have done to help circled in my mind like a pack of wolves. My well worn nails began to pierce the skin of my innocent child's hand. Her tender, soft skin incased in my blood stained hand. Tears of dread and horror stained my cheeks. It was all so loud. So intense.
Then it went quite.
All that could be heard was the sound of my child's still heart as the doctor calmly said "I'm sorry, there was nothing more we could have done."
