The System Gave Me One Job Then Regretted Choosing Me Chapter 05

The System Gave Me One Job Then Regretted Choosing Me Chapter 05

Darkness.

Perfect silence.

No pain. No suffocating pressure. No System alarms.

So this was death.

It was rather nice.

I had no idea how much time passed before a violent white light tore through the dark.

[NO VITAL SIGNS DETECTED.]

[Emergency failsafe activated. Initializing SECOND LIFE PROTOCOL.]

[WARNING: BODILY CONTROL SUSPENDED. ENTERING OUT-OF-BODY OBSERVER MODE.]

My eyes flew open.

I was floating near the ceiling.

Below me, orderlies raced a gurney toward the emergency room. A gray faced body lay beneath the fluorescent lights, eyes closed.

My body.

“Get the defibrillator ready! Two hundred joules!”

An ER doctor, sweat running down his face, performed chest compressions as they moved.

The Whitmores stood in chaos along the corridor.

Vivian was still wearing the couture gown meant to make her the center of her birthday celebration. Dust stained its hem. She huddled in Eleanor’s arms, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe.

“Mom… how could Emma do this? I only wanted one birthday…”

Eleanor’s hair had come loose. Her face was bloodless, and she gripped Vivian’s shoulders as if they were the only thing holding her upright.

“She’ll be fine. She took the wrong pills. They’ll pump her stomach, and she’ll be fine…”

She repeated the words as if she could force them to become true.

Adrian stood outside the trauma room. He still wore his tailored suit, but his tie hung crooked and loose.

He stared at the red light above the doors, his jaw drawn tight as a bowstring.

Grant leaned against the wall. His brows were furrowed, irritation covering a trace of unease.

“She never stops creating problems,” he muttered, tugging at his collar. “She was so determined to ruin Vivian’s birthday that she gambled with her own life.”

Adrian turned a freezing gaze on him.

“Shut up.”

Silence fell over the corridor.

Ten minutes later, the light went out.

The attending physician emerged and removed his mask. His expression was grave.

Adrian reached him first.

“How is my sister? Once you’ve pumped her stomach, she’ll be all right, won’t she?”

The doctor looked at him with an expression I could not quite name.

“Mr. Whitmore.”

He shook his head.

“She arrived too late. The medication had already been absorbed. We did everything we could, but we couldn’t restore a heartbeat or spontaneous breathing.”

Eleanor’s legs gave way. She collapsed to the floor.

“No!”

Adrian seized the doctor’s coat, his eyes turning red.

“She was only trying to scare us! She couldn’t have actually meant to die!”

The doctor sighed and held out a clear belongings bag. Inside were a diagnostic report and a thin envelope.

“We found these in her clothing. Mr. Whitmore, she had been diagnosed with severe major depressive disorder and deemed at imminent risk of suicide.”

“She was not trying to frighten you.”

He placed the bag in Adrian’s hand.

“She was trying to die.”

Adrian’s grip loosened.

He stared at the diagnosis. It was dated the day after the Whitmores brought me home.

Beneath it lay an envelope bearing four words.

[DON’T SAVE ME. YOU DISGUST ME.]