NIA'S POV
The exam room was small, cold, and the broken window they tried to cover with paperboard.
Dr. Mercer entered with a pity filled eyes towards me my heart started pounding loudly and my pulse weakening.
“I need you to listen carefully, Nia. "I clenched my hands around her coat sleeves.
“Your system is falling,” the doctor said. “You’re in full systemic autoimmune collapse. It’s attacking everything—liver, kidneys, blood. This isn’t something we can give you treatment away anymore.”
I stopped breaking for a second and slight dizziness hit me like a trunk.
“You’re not sick,” Mercer continued. “You’re dying.”
The words didn’t echo. They didn’t even land. They just...hung there.
“No,” I said softly, then I screamed “No. I’ve had this since I was seventeen. I get slight dizziness. I rest. I paint. It passes.”
“This won’t pass.”
Mercer opened the folder an actual folder, paper and all, like death required confirmation.
“You need a transplant list. You need immunotherapy. And you need to prepare your daughter for—”
I turned away. “Stop.”
I barely made it to the sink before started vomiting.
Mercer didn’t flinch. She handed me a paper towel.
“I know you’re broke. I know there’s no plan. But someone has to take care of her when....”
“I am taking care of her,” I snapped. “I don’t need help taking care of her”
“You’re already falling apart.”
I stood silent, shaking.
“You need to call someone,” Mercer said quietly. “Family. Her father.”
I didn’t answer. But my pulse, pounding in my ears, knew exactly who I should call.
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