Ruth laid motionless, her body sunken into the stiff hospital bed, a fragile silhouette wrapped in too-large sheets. Her silver hair, once vibrant and thick, now hung in wispy strands around her temples, damp with sweat. Deep lines creased her papery skin, each one telling a story time had carved into her. She was unresponsive and could barely open her eyes.
Bernard closed his eyes and tears fell over his cheeks.
“What has happened to her, Dad? Is she okay?” Oliver asked and felt Rickard’s hand on his shoulder.
“She will be okay, don’t worry,” Rickard said with his own voice breaking at the end.
Before Oliver could respond, Bernard spoke up.
“Doctor has said that her organs are shutting down, and not responding to the treatment… I don’t know how to help her,” Bernard said, tears fall
