Jason, his tiny body covered with tubes, lifted a frail finger to respond to me—leaving behind two silent streams of tears.
I turned and fell to my knees before the doctor, begging desperately for him to save my son.
The doctor lowered his eyes with pity but shook his head helplessly.
“The best window for administering the serum has already passed. Even a miracle worker couldn’t bring him back now…”
I collapsed to the ground in despair, watching as the heart monitor released its sharp beeping sounds.
Jason, filled with disappointment toward his father, finally closed his eyes that once held such a fierce will to live.
My heart bled, my tears streamed endlessly as I kissed his little face again and again, unable to let him go.
In that moment, I swore silently to myself—I would never allow my son’s death to be in vain.
After sending Jason’s body to the morgue, I stepped out into the pouring rain and walked with determination back to the lodge.
Jason’s belongings were still there—his favorite toys.
On his fifth birthday, Daniel Brooks and I had given him a Spider-Man action figure.
He always said it was like a superhero that would protect him from every bad guy.