Chapter 8
Chapter 8
I made my way back to the hospital, feeling sicker than before.
Something churned inside my head, making me dizzy and nauseous. Still, I forced a smile, carrying a thermos of porridge to my grandma, ready to share a made–up story to cheer her up.
But she lay motionless on the hospital bed, surrounded by people. A doctor hurried over and told me she had suffered a sudden attack and needed immediate resuscitation. My parents had already been notified.
The thermos in my hands slipped, spilling porridge all over the floor.
For a moment, I just stood there. Then, my smile faded. I mumbled an apology, cleaned up the mess, and sat on a bench, unable to bring myself to look at her again.
When they arrived, the doctor asked them to sign the consent forms and pay for the surgery. The procedure would take a long time, and the chances of success were not high.
I waited in the corner for what felt like forever, my courage draining bit by bit. Then, I heard their voices. They were getting impatient, idly chatting to pass the time. And they were talking about me.
Mom sighed. “I keep saying Jolene was probably switched at birth. I had Fiona pull a few strands of her hair for a DNA test. We should get the results today.”
Dad agreed. “Exactly. There’s no way our family carries the genes for mental illness.”
Hidden behind a massive potted plant, they didn’t see me. They spoke freely, without restraint.
A lump formed in my throat. I wanted to tell them it was just depression, not some incurable madness.
At the same time, a deep unease settled in my chest. I had a terrible feeling Grandma wouldn’t make it.
I wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. My head throbbed, the pressure unbearable.
I had once hoped I wasn’t their real daughter. I had even secretly taken a paternity test. Unfortunately, the results were clear–I was truly their child.
I couldn’t stay there any longer. I got up and walked away.
Somehow, without realizing it, I ended up on the rooftop of one of the hospital buildings.
The evening breeze was cool against my skin. The sun was sinking, the sky streaked with orange and gold. My mind was a tangled mess–one moment, I heard Mom’s voice telling me to just go and die, the next, I saw Grandma lying unconscious, teetering on the edge of life and death.
The world was unbearably unfair. Cruel people always seemed to find happiness, while the kind ones suffered endlessly.
“Miss, don’t jump! Please, don’t jump!”
