Chapter 51: One Breath Left I sat against the wall with my back pressed into the cold metal, staring at the number above the table. One. Just one. Not zero. Not two. One breath left for Mira. The machines around me hummed like they were waiting for me to do something. The table sat there, restraints open, surface gleaming under the lights that didn’t flicker anymore. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to say. I just sat there, breathing, watching the number. It didn’t move. It didn’t change. It just stayed there, like it was waiting for me to make the next move. I stood up. I didn’t think about it. I didn’t plan it. I just stood. My legs carried me forward before my mind caught up. I walked to the table. I didn’t look at the restraints. I didn’t look at the machines. I didn’t look at the counter. I just walked. My feet moved like they remembered the way even if I didn’t. I stopped at the edge of the table. I looked down at it. I didn’t touch it. I didn’t test it. I just looked. Then I climbed onto it. I lay down. I didn’t fight it. I didn’t resist. I just let my body settle onto the surface. It was cold. Hard. Unforgiving. I didn’t care. The restraints snapped shut. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t pull away. I let them lock around my wrists. I let them lock around my ankles. I didn’t struggle. I didn’t test them. I just lay there, staring at the ceiling. The machines around me stirred. One beeped. Another hummed. A third clicked. They didn’t care that I was here. They didn’t care that I was breathing. They didn’t care that I had asked a question no one answered. They just did what they were built to do. The table didn’t move. The lights didn’t change. The counter didn’t tick. Everything stayed still. Everything stayed quiet. Except for the machines. They kept humming. Kept beeping. Kept clicking. Like they were having a conversation I wasn’t invited to. Mira’s voice came through the intercom. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t angry. It was quiet. Soft. Almost gentle. Like she was talking to me in a dream. “You’re choosing her life over yours.” I didn’t answer. I didn’t move. I didn’t blink. I just lay there, listening. Her voice didn’t echo. It didn’t fade. It just hung there, in the air, like it was part of the room now. Like it had always been there. Like it had been waiting for me to hear it. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to think. I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to her voice, feeling the restraints around my wrists and ankles, waiting for something to happen. The surgical arm descended. It didn’t come fast. It didn’t come sudden. It came slow. Smooth. Like it had been waiting under the ceiling for years and now it was finally being called down. The scalpel at the end of it gleamed under the lights. It didn’t look sharp. It didn’t look dangerous. It just looked clean. Precise. Ready. I didn’t look away. I didn’t close my eyes. I just watched it come down. I watched it stop above my chest. I watched the tip hover just above my skin. I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe. I just lay there, watching the scalpel, listening to the machines, waiting for the next thing to happen. Mira’s counter flickered. Not to zero. Not to nothing. To two.