Chapter 5 #2
Vomit splashed across Thomas's shirt and the face he couldn't pull away in time. He froze, looked down at the mess, expression shifting from smug to shocked disgust.
"You filthy bitch!" He raised his hand and slapped me across the face.
The slap landed on my left cheek like a hot iron. My ears rang. Pain and humiliation brought tears flooding out. But it gave me a chance to escape. While he cursed and stripped off his soiled shirt, I wrenched myself out from under him and shoved with everything I had.
He stumbled backward and hit the floor, back of his head cracking against the desk corner with a dull thud.
I yanked the door open and ran. Didn't look back. My hair was a mess, I reeked, my shirt gaped open, buttons God knows where. A few coworkers in the hallway stared, but I didn't care what they thought. Cindy stood up from the front desk and called my name, but I didn't stop.
I burst into the elevator and hit the ground floor button with shaking fingers. When the doors closed, my legs finally gave out. I slid down the wall.
My body wouldn't stop shaking. Tears fell in fat drops onto my knees, soaking dark stains into my only decent dress pants.
When I came to, the elevator had stopped on the first floor. I was still crouched there, legs too weak to stand, fear and fury still pounding through me.
I braced against the wall and stood, walked out, and stopped at the building entrance. Looking back at the tower, my heart sank. I'd probably lost my job. This was our family's only income. My sister and I both needed money.
Tears welled in my eyes. I wanted to call my sister, even just for useless comfort, but my finger hovered over the screen without pressing down.
My sister was sick. I couldn't burden her with this.
While I stood there dazed, my phone rang on its own. St. Mary Hospital.
My heart plummeted.
"Miss Sanchez?" Dr. Patel, my sister's attending physician. His voice was urgent. "Your sister Elena's heart condition suddenly deteriorated. Acute heart failure. She needs immediate surgery. Can you get here right away?"
I gripped the phone. The air felt suddenly vacuumed out. All I could hear was the drumming in my chest.
"What? She was fine this morning!" My voice nearly cracked, shaking uncontrollably. "I'm coming... right now! Doctor, please save her, I'm begging you..."
"We're doing pre-op prep. Please hurry." Dr. Patel paused, probably hearing my frantic footsteps and ragged breathing through the phone. His tone softened slightly, still urgent. "Drive safe, Miss Sanchez."
The call ended. My fingers shook so bad it took three tries to call a cab.
The cab stopped at the hospital entrance. I paid and ran into the building, found Dr. Patel in the corridor. He took off his glasses and rubbed his brow, expression heavy.
"Miss Sanchez, we need to discuss surgery costs," Dr. Patel said. "The deposit you paid only covers conservative treatment. This surgery costs five hundred thousand dollars. The down payment can't be less than two hundred fifty thousand. Without it, we can't schedule the surgery."
Two hundred fifty thousand.
A number that crushed me. My entire savings didn't come close.
"I'll figure it out. Please, don't give up on my sister." I didn't know what I was saying anymore. All I could do was beg.
"If I could, I'd love to see the patient healthy. But medication can't control your sister's condition anymore. She needs surgery urgently."
"If she doesn't have surgery..." I clung to one last shred of hope.
"One day." His voice was quiet, but it landed on my heart like a boulder. "Maybe today. Elena's body can't take it. Every hour we delay surgery, the risk increases. I've had the nurses start prep, but the money issue... please hurry."
I sat in the hospital corridor and scrolled through my phone contacts top to bottom.
Everyone I could borrow from, I'd already hit up three years ago.
After our parents died, not a single relative stayed in touch.
My savings would barely cover my sister's next month's hospital stay.
My credit card had twelve hundred dollars left.
Combined, it didn't even touch the down payment. Sweat broke out on my skin.
I clutched my head in despair and collapsed on the floor sobbing. Tears fell in heavy drops.
Through blurred, tear-filled vision, I saw the world around me. So many patients and families. Some crying quietly, some praying softly. They were probably all like me—helpless, waiting for their loved ones to die.
What could I do? I blamed myself for being useless. I even started thinking... if I'd just gone along with Thomas earlier, would I be less desperate now?
I didn't know. Watching the surgery payment slip get soaked with tears... I drove my fingers into my hair, yanked at my scalp. I was garbage. Couldn't do anything.
No. I could sell blood. Whatever I could scrape together. I'd drain every drop in my body. I stumbled to my feet, took two steps, and Dr. Patel stopped me. His expression was joyful. "Great news, Miss Sanchez. Your sister's entire bill has been paid in full. I'll go arrange her surgery now."
"What?" My eyes went wide. "But I haven't raised enough... who was it?"
Movement at the nurses' station. Someone picked up a phone. Someone called Dr. Patel's name. He hurried off. I looked up, and against that backdrop of chaos, a tall figure walked toward me.
Tears streamed down my face.
It was him.