He's on Death Row, waiting for his execution. Today, he's in handcuffs at a hospital, about to give a 6-year-old girl the one thing that can save her life...
Marcus hasn't been called by his name in 20 years. On Death Row, he's just a number, a man waiting for an execution date. The world sees him as a monster, a man who took a life and is now waiting to forfeit his own.
Then there's 6-year-old Maya. Her kidneys have failed. For nine months, she's been on the transplant list, her small body growing weaker, with no matches found.
Marcus has one thing left from his old life: a faded, folded picture of his own daughter, who died from a sudden illness when she was Maya's age. It was 25 years ago, before his life spiraled into the violence that landed him here.
The prison chaplain, the only man who still talks to him, mentioned the case. A public plea for a rare blood type. A little girl at the city hospital, fading fast.
He knew it wouldn't change his sentence. He was going to die. But he saw a chance. Not for parole, not for redemption in the eyes of the law, but to do one right thing before his time ran out. To save the little girl he couldn't save all those years ago.
He volunteered to be tested. The prison board thought it was a manipulative stunt. It wasn't. Against all odds, he was a perfect match.
After weeks of legal battles, the donation was approved as his "final act." Today, the day before the surgery, they brought him to the hospital. He was in his green jumpsuit, hands cuffed, flanked by two armed guards. He knelt by her bed. Maya, who only knew this man was "her helper," looked at him with wide, grateful eyes.
"I... I want to give him a hug," she whispered to her mom.
The guards tensed. "Ma'am, that's not possible," one started to say, his hand moving. But Maya, weak as she was, slipped off her bed and walked right up to the kneeling inmate. Before the guards could stop her, she wrapped her small arms around his neck.
Marcus, the man who hadn't felt a kind touch in decades, felt his entire world break. He closed his eyes, his cuffed hands lifting to gently hold her. "You don't gotta thank me, little one," he choked out, his voice thick. "Just get better, alright?"