The morning of my medical college entrance exam should have been the most important and perfect day of my life. But instead, it turned into a nightmare from the very first moment I woke up.
I opened my eyes slowly, expecting to see sunlight streaming in, my alarms buzzing loudly to wake me up on time. But everything was dark. Too dark. I blinked, confused. Then I reached for my phone—and my heart stopped.
It was already 9:55 a.m.
My exam started at 10:00 a.m.
“No, no, no! This can’t be happening!” I gasped, throwing the blankets off and scrambling to sit up. I looked at my phone again, and all three alarms I had set the night before were off. Dead silent.
I whispered in disbelief, “I know I set these alarms!” My hands were shaking as I jumped out of bed. I had been so sure. I had planned everything perfectly.
Ever since I was a little girl, I dreamed of becoming a doctor. It wasn’t just a wish—it was my life’s goal. After my mom died from cancer, that dream burned even brighter. I wanted to help people like her, to understand the disease that had taken her away from us, and to save others from the same pain.
For years, I worked hard for this day. Late nights studying, reading books, and endless exams. And today, I was finally ready to prove myself. But now… I was running out of time.
I hurried to get dressed as fast as I could. My hair was a wild mess as I ran down the stairs, calling out desperately, “Linda! Linda! Please, I need a ride! My exam starts in five minutes!”
Linda, my stepmom, was in the kitchen drinking coffee. She looked up slowly, a cold smile on her face.
“You’re late already,” she said flatly, as calm as if I was just asking for breakfast instead of begging for a chance to save my future. “Maybe next time, learn to set an alarm properly.”
“I did set the alarms!” I almost yelled. “I triple-checked! They were on—three of them!”
Linda just shrugged, her smirk growing wider. “Clearly, you didn’t. Maybe this means you’re not meant to be a doctor. If you can’t even wake up on time, how will you handle something serious, like taking care of a patient?”
My face burned with shock and frustration. Was she really saying this? Was she trying to ruin me?
Feeling desperate, I turned toward the door. There was no way I could make it on foot in time, but I had to try.
Then, a small voice stopped me.
“I know who did it,” said Jason, my 8-year-old little brother. His voice trembled a little, but his eyes were steady and strong.
I stopped and looked at him, confused. “Jason? What do you mean?”
He took a step forward and looked Linda right in the eye. “I saw her last night. She turned off your alarms.”
Linda’s face darkened. “Jason, stop making things up,” she snapped.
Jason swallowed but stood his ground. “I’m not lying! I saw you go into her room, pick up her phone, and turn off the alarms. You said she didn’t need to go to that stupid exam anyway.”
My head was spinning. I stared at Linda, waiting for her to say it was a mistake, or a joke—but she didn’t.
“No, Emily,” she said coldly, crossing her arms. “I did it. You’re not cut out to be a doctor. It’s a waste of time, money, and energy. Your dad should spend his money on something more useful.”
I couldn’t help myself. “Like your beauty salon?” I said quietly but sharply.
Before I could push past her and run, I heard sirens in the distance. They were getting closer, louder.
Jason squeezed my hand and smiled bravely. “Don’t worry, Em. I called for help.”
Linda’s eyes flashed with fury. “You did what?!” she gasped.
Jason stood tall, his voice strong. “You’re the bad one here, Linda. Emily will be a doctor one day. Mom would be proud of her.”
Linda’s face twisted in anger just as the sirens screamed closer. The front door swung open and two police officers stepped inside.
One of them, a tall man with a calm voice, asked, “Is everything okay here?”
Jason didn’t hesitate. “I called you. My sister’s alarms were turned off so she’d miss her exam. Linda did it.”
Linda tried to look innocent. “This is nonsense! Kids making up stories because they’re late.”
But the female officer knelt down to Jason’s level and asked gently, “You called us to help your sister?”
Jason nodded hard. “Yes. Emily studied so hard. She was ready. Linda wanted her to fail.”
The officers looked at each other, then at me.
“Is that true?” the male officer asked softly.
“Yes,” I whispered, feeling everything crashing down on me. “I have to get to the school now, or I lose my chance.”
The female officer nodded. “We’ll take you there.”
Linda’s mouth fell open in disbelief. “You’re really going to drive her there? This is ridiculous!”
The officer gave her a cold look. “We help people. Now, move aside.”
Jason beamed at me. “You’re going to make it, Em.”
“Thank you, Jason. You saved me,” I whispered, hugging him tight.
The officers helped me into their squad car, and we sped through the streets with sirens wailing, weaving through traffic. My heart pounded like a drum—but this time with hope and determination.
When we reached the exam center, the doors were closed. The officers walked with me inside.
A proctor noticed us and frowned. “Ma’am, the exam already started.”
The policewoman explained quickly, “Her alarms were sabotaged. She’s here now. Maybe you can let her take the exam?”
The proctor looked at me carefully, then nodded. “Alright. You can go in.”
I barely believed it. “Thank you,” I breathed.
I found my seat, shaking but ready. I closed my eyes for a moment and thought of Mom. This was my moment. No one was going to take it away.
Hours later, I stepped out exhausted but relieved. The officers were gone, but I felt their kindness with every step.
Jason was waiting on the front steps. He jumped up and shouted, “Did you make it?”
I smiled through my tiredness. “I did. Thanks to you.”
He hugged me tight. “I knew you would.”
Inside, Dad waited. His face was pale and serious. Jason told him everything while I stood silently.
Dad’s face turned red with anger as he looked at Linda. “Is this true?”
Linda stammered, “I… I was just trying to help. I didn’t mean it to go this far.”
Dad’s voice was sharp. “You ruined her dreams because of your selfishness. You’re not staying here another night.”
Linda’s face drained of color. She tried to argue, but Dad shook his head firmly.
“Pack your things. This family deserves better.”
Jason and I watched quietly as she left. No joy—just relief that justice was done.