Ariana Cross
The hospital room was too quiet except for the steady, mechanical beeping of monitors. I had been sitting in the same hard plastic chair for what felt like hours, my body aching from the long shift at the shop followed by this endless night. Grease still stained my hands and clothes. I hadn’t even had time to change.
Lena lay in the bed looking heartbreakingly small and fragile. Her once-bright emerald eyes were dull with pain, her dark hair matted against the pillow. This lupus flare was vicious. The doctor’s words kept circling in my head like vultures: Aggressive treatment needed immediately to prevent kidney and heart involvement. The initial round will cost tens of thousands…
Money we didn’t have. Money I could never pull together in time no matter how many extra jobs
