Heather
47
Dread filled Heather’s lungs. Her ribs hurt, her arms hurt, even her hair follicles hurt. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to lift up her head, and every time the cab bounced over a dip in the road, her head would smack the chair and her brain would slosh around, hitting the side of her skull.
They were on their way back to the inn from another treatment.
Heather hated the treatments.
The drugs that dripped into her veins burned like an iron poker fresh from a fire, stabbing through her subcutaneous layers and flowing everywhere her blood flowed.
The nausea was pretty bad, too, but she’d been prescribed Sativex, a cannabis-based medicine that made it manageable. It all seemed like part of who she was now.
She remembered an old acquaintance she had who, when pregnant, had what
