Ayla
Nine years ago…
Hospitals always sound the same—beep… beep… beep—like a clock reminding everyone that the lives here are on pause. The smell of disinfectant makes my head spin, and the cold AC creeps into my bones. I sat in the therapy waiting room, my feet dangling because the chair was way too tall for a twelve-year-old.
Mom had just gone into the doctor’s office to check on my progress. She said I’d be called in soon. I only nodded—something I’d gotten very good at, according to Papa. ‘A good, obedient girl’ he always said.
While I waited, I hugged my worn-out white bunny plush to my chest. I brought it to every therapy session, and Mom had sewn it back together more times than I could count.
I tried to steady my breathing. Four seconds in… four seconds hold… four seconds out…
