“So, am I dying?” I ask the doctor after I’m lying safely on a bed
I don’t speak as we speed off to the emergency room. Besides being nauseous from pain, opening my mouth, the sound of my own voice… it would somehow make this all real. And this can’t be real.
Mommy looks at me sideways, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. “How you doing, zeeskeit?” she asks softly.
I clench my teeth and nod. The pity in her voice makes me want to scream, and suddenly tears are leaking down my face. Mommy rubs my arm, I gaze out the window with deadened eyes, Shayna’s face and the fear etched all over it keeps floating past the glass. My leg feels like someone has lit a small fire on it, and I keep having to look down to make sure it hasn’t really burst into flames.
Finally, as we get close enough to the hospital to hear the wail of sirens, I open my mouth. “Do you think it’s broken?” I ask Mommy hoarsely, even though I know she has no idea.
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