I lay on the soft white sheets in the hospital, counting the beeps of the heart monitor to help me get to sleep.
Beep. One. Beep. Two.
I could hear my parents in the other room, chatting with the doctor, saying goodbye. They had wanted to stay with me, but the doctor said I was overnight just as a precaution, and they had to get up early for work tomorrow. I told them that I could be by myself, and that they should go home.
Four. Five.
The small pain in my chest from where my heart was infected announced itself.
Six. Seven.

My parents left and the room became silent.
Eight. Nine.
I rubbed the skin above my heart, annoyed with the discomfort.
Ten. Eleven.
The clock hand slowly moved to tell me it was a little past midnight.
Twelve.
My chest hurt again, and I frowned.
Thirteen.
The light of the room was swept into black.
It didn’t beep again.