Right at 2:10 a.m., Niah’s cries turned desperate, and she started to lose her breath.
Harold stood up in distress. “I’ll go find a nurse.”
I grabbed his arm. “Dad, it’s just a slipped needle. She’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”
Before he could say more, our daughter’s lips turned purple. Suddenly, she vomited violently.
Harold’s face went pale. “This is a reaction to the medication! If we don’t act fast, she could die!”
With that, he pushed me aside and rushed out.
“Mommy…” My daughter’s little face was deathly pale as she looked at me. “It hurts so bad. I want… water.”
She was my flesh and blood. I couldn’t bear to see her suffer, so I turned to pour her a cup of warm water.
But when I turned back, the bed where she had been lying… was empty!
Only the vomit she’d left behind and my phone, still playing the cartoon, were there.
When Harold hurried back with a nurse, he asked, “Where’s Niah? Let’s get the nurse to check on her!”
My heart sank. “Dad, didn’t you see her leave just now?”
He stomped his foot in frustration. “I just came from the reception desk with the nurse, Sadie! No one else went by!”