(I WISH YOU WERE DEAD)
~LEXA WYETT~
I remember sitting and staring at the beeping machine, I was just eighteen, and while my mate where preparing for college, I was thinking about the numerous part-time jobs I could work to make enough money to get my mom treated.
The insurance companies I went to were not ready to sign a deal with an 18-year-old with no job or nothing to support her.
They asked me to come with an adult or get a job that can qualify me for one. And that's how I have been slaving my life away.
From one job to another to earn money so that she could be listed for surgery, chemotherapy, and drugs she was administered to was already consuming enough money.
Not to talk about my dad's habit of threatening me with my mom's health just to get money out of me.
“Am fine Lexa,
