SARAH
Hospitals were dreadful.
I hated them ever since I was a little girl. They brought up a lot of bad memories. Every time I smelled the syringes, antiseptics, soap, and that unmistakable tinge of blood, I remembered how my little legs dangled from the seat of the waiting room chairs, a lollipop in hand as I watched the doctors in their white lab coats and the nurses in blue scrubs walking briskly along the hallway as they attended to patients who were brought in via the ambulance or those who walked in.
The hospital was not the best place for a five-year-old, but my aunt had no one to watch me while she identified the bodies of my dead parents and submitted blood and dental work.
I tried to keep calm and pretend that everything was okay as we made our way to the family hospital, L
