Zach
Mom lay propped against pillows that seemed to swallow her whole. When had she become so small? Jennifer Collin had always been a force of nature, elegant, strong, commanding any room she entered. Now she looked like a ghost of herself, her skin paper-thin, her eyes hollow.
This was what betrayal did. It didn't just break hearts, it destroyed them, literally.
"The doctor said the new medication should help you," I said, pulling my chair closer to her bed.
"Zach." Her voice was barely a whisper. "Darling, I feel like I’m dying ." She said in a painful voice. "Maybe not today, maybe not next month, but this—" she gestured to her frail body, "—this is the beginning of the end. We both know it."
No. No, I couldn't lose you too. I couldn't lose everyone.
"Mom, don't talk like that.
