20th March 2015
The blood unit was busy. Ali had been sent down with a sample bag and a written letter from the consultant to the nurses, and now he was sitting on a hard plastic chair with a number, waiting for his turn.
And squeezing Yazid’s hand so hard it must have hurt.
“I don’t know if I want to do this,” he whispered.
Yazid bumped his shoulder.
“Don’t panic.”
Ali bit his lip until that hurt, too, and took a deep, shaky breath. “I’m giving the man who nearly killed you a second chance at life,” he hissed.
A woman two chairs over gave them a startled look.
“You’re also giving your mother a fighting chance at keeping her son,” Yazid said quietly. “There’s no right or wrong here. You can walk out the door anytime you want to.”
“They won’t let me.”
“They can’t force you, Ali. Y
