The smell of antiseptic burned in my nose as my mother’s voice tore through the hospital corridor. “You’re letting your sister die!” she screamed, her face twisted with fury and grief. Nurses glanced over, but no one dared to step in. I stood frozen, my back against the wall, clutching the hem of my hoodie like a child. My mother’s hands were trembling as she ripped apart the folder of papers I’d brought—the medical records I’d tried to explain. Pages fluttered to the floor like white feathers, stained with her tears.
My father’s voice cut through the chaos, low and sharp. “You self-centered error,” he said. “How could we have raised someone like you?”
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