After Fred leaves, Jack looks down at the bottle, and then back at me. “Any allergies to medications?”
I shake my head while racing through my options. There’s not many. Soon Jack’s back with a bottle of water and a handful of pills. I have to try again. It’s my last chance. This time I play it smart and keep my voice low. “Please, Jack, please. I promise I won’t—”
He cuts me off with a quick shake of his head. “Listen… what’s your name?”
“Franki,” I whisper. “With an ‘i’ at the end…no ‘e.’” Why I care that this man knows how to spell my name I’ve no idea, but right now it seems important.
“Okay, Franki, with an ‘i,’ no ‘e,’ Mr. Sanchez will never let you go to the hospital. Never. This is your only option…if you want to live.”
I swallow, suddenly terrified of going to sleep and never
