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I don’t take my eyes off her. I let the image before me burn into my mind. Her eyes are closed, and she's pale, so pale. Her once dark hair is now streaked with gray, the locks settling around her shoulders.
She looks so sick…
"Mom," I whisper.
The doctor continues speaking like I haven't moved or said a word. "We also need to run some additional tests. I’ve combed through her medical records myself, and it looks like her previous doctor was a little lax when it came to running regular blood work. I don’t mean to make matters worse, but I feel this might have been caught much earlier if routine work was done.”
I nod and grip my mother’s hand gently. Her hand seems too small in mine, too fragile. The coldness of her skin presses against the warmth of my own, and anger and resentment bloom in my cheeks. How could Dad let her get to this point? I knew he hated me, and I knew he had fallen out of love with my mother, given his desire to sleep around all the time, but I never thought he’d let her fucking die on us.
"Do whatever you need to do, Doctor. Just keep her alive."
He moves beside me, but I don't take my eyes off my mother’s face. She's been sick for so long now, I feel like I have more memories of her with this illness than I do of her without. Tears burn at the back of my eyes. I won’t cry. I can’t. I’m stronger than that. Crying doesn’t fix shit. It’s merely a weakness. I can hear my father’s voice in my mind, the words ingrained there. The past month has made me question every single thing I know.
But I don’t fucking cry. That much I do remember.
The questions stack up, but there are no answers. Are Bel and I really siblings? According to my father, we are. Then there’s the mysterious illness that both Bel’s mother and my mother have. None of this is a coincidence. There is no way. The problem is I have no idea or way of proving that the two incidents are related. Nothing other than a gut instinct.
I watch the doctor on the other side of the bed warily.
Did my father hire him to keep her sick? What about the previous doctor?
Can I trust this man? He seems to care far more than the previous doctor, who wouldn’t even pay attention to me whenever I asked a question. Still, I don’t trust any of them.
I need answers, but most importantly, I need to keep her with me so we can find out the truth together. She deserves to survive and see my father pay for what he's done to me, her, and Bel. All of it.
My blood pumps with adrenaline and rage. I tug a chair over so I can be closer to her. "Mom, can you hear me?"
I’m met with silence. I squeeze my eyes closed and try my best not to lose it. I rarely get to see her, and I won't be able to stand it if I don't even get to speak to her ever again.
"Mom?" The word comes out like a prayer.
The doctor clears his throat and fiddles with some tubes. "I don’t mean to interrupt, but I need you to sign some forms for us to approve the tests. She’s been given a pretty hefty dose of painkillers and has been in and out of it since this morning. Don’t take it personally if she doesn’t react. It’s best for her to stay sedated so there’s less risk of stress to the body.”
"This seems pretty serious. Should I have her transferred to the hospital?"
He shakes his head. "No, not yet. I can manage everything that has happened so far here at the house. The problem will be if her organs really start shutting down. At that point, we will rush her to the hospital. On the off chance that does happen, I have a release form that I’ll have you sign today, just in case.”
"Sure. Whatever you need." I nod, focusing my attention back on my mom. "Nothing matters to me more than her. Do whatever you need to do to keep her alive.”
“Money doesn’t matter. My job is to save lives. That’s what doctors do. I’ll do my very best to make sure your mom makes it through this.” His response is sincere, but I’m not sure if I can trust him or not. The fear lingers in the pit of my stomach.
He bustles around the bed again, and I focus on her sedate features, giving her hand a little squeeze. "Mom?" All I want is for her to speak. Goddammit. I need one good thing to happen right now. Fuck. The floor threatens to give out on me, and I’m barely hanging on.
As if someone up there can hear my unspoken prayer, I watch as Mom’s eyes flutter and slowly open. She looks right at me, her blue eyes shining like sapphires. "Drew? Is that you?"
I nod and lean down to kiss her cold, dry knuckles. "Yeah. Hi, Mom."
She tries to smile, but it's more of a wince. "Hi," she breathes.
I swallow a hard lump in my throat. "I have never been happier to see your face. I know things have been hard, and I’ve been gone a lot, but I want you to know that I’m here now. I'm not going anywhere until we get you feeling better."
She shifts her hand to pat my cheek, which is still near her fingers. "You have school and football. Don't worry about me, sweetie. This is nothing but a hiccup in the road."
I eye the doctor on the other side of the bed. He gives me a little shake of the head almost like he knows what I’m going to ask him. Why haven’t they told her what’s going on? If it were me, I’d want to know what the hell people were doing to me. My guess is the fear and her reaction, and what it might do to her body. Anything not to make it worse, right?
"Football is over Mom, and my classes are pretty flexible. I’m stubborn, you know that. The more you tell me not to worry, the more I’ll worry. All I want is for you to know I’m not going anywhere, okay?" I don't add what I want to.
As long as my father isn't here.
