If I called the ambulance, then I would be waiting for f*****g hours.
They didn’t come as quickly as when someone from the rich side of town called.
So, I dumped Mom’s body in the back of my car and stepped on the f*****g accelerator to head toward the hospital. While glancing back at Mom every now and then, I whizzed by cars and vowed to get there before Mom died in my backseat.
She couldn’t f*****g die. She couldn’t. She f*****g couldn’t.
My chest tightened, my breathing heavy.
What would I tell Ana if Mom died? How could I explain that to her? That Mom had sold her body to the rich to support us and one of those f*****g idiots had force-fed her drugs and made her overdose again?
Once I sped into the hospital, I slammed my foot on the brakes and parked the car right out front. Iman
