~Louise~
I opened my heavy eyelids to see the grey walls of a small hospital room. As I blinked away the fog of sleep, I noticed the tiny holes and grooves in the white roof panels. The air held a sharp scent of pine cleaner and antiseptic, a familiar smell that evoked memories of countless past hospital visits.
Nearby, fabric rustled. I was not alone. I could hear two—no, three—different sleepy breaths. They were rough and unfamiliar—not Jo, Raine, or Mum.
I attempted to shift my body, but a sharp, throbbing pain shot through my aching stomach, jolting me fully awake. The pain made me realise—I had undergone surgery. Every inch of me trembled as I reached for the edge of the blanket, hesitantly pulling it back to reveal my favourite worn, dusty pink pyjamas. My mother must have dressed
