Love and Hate, Great Sadness Without TearsBOOK1-Chapter 1

I arrived at the kindergarten to pick up my three-year-old son, but instead, I walked into a nightmare.

A crazed man, wielding a knife, was attacking indiscriminately. Without hesitation, I shielded my son with my body, feeling the cold steel pierce my flesh again and again. Pain exploded through me as I collapsed into a growing pool of my own blood.

Willy Nelson, my husband, arrived just in time. He subdued the attacker and turned him over to the police, then rushed us to the hospital, summoning the best medical team in the city. As I was wheeled toward the operating room, weak and barely clinging to consciousness, I forced out a desperate question.

"How is my son?"

Willy's red-rimmed eyes wavered. He hesitated, then finally spoke, his voice trembling. "He lost too much blood... He didn't make it."

His words shattered me. The grief was so unbearable that my body gave in—I blacked out completely. What I forgot to mention before surgery was that I was immune to anesthesia. I regained consciousness in the middle of a hushed conversation between Willy and the doctor.