Chapter 7 – The Cost Of A Cure
Avery >>
"You did well, Avery," Dahila said to me, her eyes bright, her voice full of something close to pride. "I'm proud of you for making the right decision. You're saving your father."
I looked at her, studying her face.
Was she really proud of me? Or was it just the money?
I sighed, rubbing my hand against my face. "Are you proud that he's going to be treated, or are you just excited about the money?"
She smiled. "Both, of course."
I didn't say anything else.
What could I say?
I just nodded quietly and sat back on the hospital bench beside her, staring at the ceiling. That boring, plain, white hospital ceiling.
And I started thinking.
Thinking about a life I'd never get to live.
What if I had been born into a rich family? What if my father had the money to get treated without me needing to… to do this?
What if we weren't always struggling?
Would I still be forced into this decision?
Would I still be getting married to a man I didn't even know—just to stop my father from dying?
I was still lost in my thoughts when I suddenly felt a tap on my shoulder and jumped.
"Damn it—" I turned sharply. "What the hell—?!"
It was Dahila.
"Why did you scare me like that?" I asked, annoyed and already on edge.
She crossed her arms calmly. "You've been sitting like that for over thirty minutes. I thought something was wrong. What were you thinking about?"
I picked up my phone and checked the time.
Damn. She was right.
I stood up slowly and looked her straight in the face, the disgust probably clear in my expression.
"Oh? You're suddenly worried about me now?" I asked bitterly. "Or were you just scared that your winning lottery ticket—me—was going to change his mind?"
She let out a laugh.
I just turned and walked straight to Papa's room.
He was still asleep.
I walked in and sat beside him again, gently picking up his hand.
"I found a way, Papa," I whispered, holding his hand tight. "There's a way now. You're not going to die. You can't."
I kissed his hand gently.
Again.
And again.
I didn't know when next I'd get to do this. I didn't know if I'd have another chance to sit beside him like this and just… feel close to him.
I didn't know what marriage to that stranger was going to be like. If it was going to feel like prison. If I'd lose myself in it. If I'd lose time. If I'd lose me.
So I held my father's hand as long as I could.
I kissed his hand like it was the only thing keeping me together.
But then—
The door swung open.
Several doctors came rushing in. They didn't even say a word to me. They went straight to the bed and started unlocking the wheels.
"What's going on?" I asked, standing up quickly.
No one answered me.
"Where are you taking him? You said it wasn't time yet. So why now? Why are you taking him?"
Still, not one word.
"Can somebody PLEASE talk to me? I'm his son! His only son! Doesn't that count for something? Don't I even get told what's happening?!"
Nothing.
They just kept wheeling the bed out.
I ran beside them, but no one even turned to look at me.
Tears filled my eyes again.
Frustration. Fear. Confusion. Everything at once.
I stopped walking and placed my hand on my forehead.
I was going to lose it.
"You don't have to be sad," Dahila's voice suddenly said behind me. Calm.. "Everything is going to be okay with him."
I turned around, my eyes burning red from tears and anger.
"Oh yeah? If everything is going to be okay, then where the hell are they taking him?! HUH?! ANSWER ME!" I screamed.
My voice echoed through the hallway.
I didn't even know where to begin. What to feel.
Dahila looked me dead in the eyes.
"They're taking him to the surgery room," she said slowly. "Treatment is starting immediately."
"What… What?!"
"What… what are you saying?" I asked, my voice cracking with fear. "I haven't even paid. You know I don't have the money, Dahila. I don't even have anyone to help me. So how—how the hell is he being taken into surgery?"
My heart was beating so fast that it hurt.
"What if he isn't even being taken to surgery?" I added, the panic rising. "What if they're taking him to… to harvest his organs or something? What if—what if they've just given up on him and they didn't even bother to tell me?"
I turned to face her, my eyes already filling with tears.
"Why am I the only one worried right now?" I whispered. "Why is everyone acting like this is normal? He's my father… why aren't you scared?"
Dahila didn't answer.
But Elaina—the walking headache that she was—suddenly flipped her hair and scoffed from behind me.
"Take a chill pill, bro," she said, rolling her eyes like we were in some stupid high school drama. "Your father isn't going to die."
Then she laughed a little. "And even if he does, like… why do you care so much? He's already old. Just let him go instead of stressing yourself."
I turned to her slowly.
I swear, if looks could kill.
"You know," I said, staring her down, "there's one amazing thing your mouth can do—apart from running like a broken tap."
She raised an eyebrow, probably expecting a joke.
"It can shut the fuck up." My voice dropped. "Your mouth can actually close. You should try it sometime."
She gasped.
"You're so mean," she muttered and rolled her eyes again.
I turned back to Dahila. My voice was still shaking.
"You said someone paid," I said. "You said the surgery was already covered."
She didn't say a word.
She just gave me this strange little calm smile.
"Dahila," I said, my voice rising slightly. "Tell me who paid. Please. I need to know. I need to thank them, at least."
Still, she didn't say anything.
I felt like punching a wall.
I ran my hand through my hair, then looked her dead in the eyes. "Are you seriously going to just keep smiling at me like that?! I'm not playing here. Say something!"
She finally gave a small laugh, then shrugged like it was nothing.
"Who do you think paid, Avery?" she asked, tilting her head. "Obviously… me."
I blinked.
"You?" I repeated, like I hadn't heard her right. "You paid?"
"Of course," she said with a nod, like she'd just announced the weather. "I had to. You agreed to marry him, didn't you?"
My mouth fell slightly open.
She kept talking, calmly..
"I wouldn't have paid a dime if you hadn't agreed. But the second you said yes, I made the call. Because I know once you sign that contract, your first payment for marrying into their family is going to hit your account."
She smiled wider now.
"And when that payment comes, you'll give me the percentage we agreed on," she added. "Plus, you'll pay back the money I just spent on your father."
I just… stared at her.
"You're insane," I said quietly, my voice full of disbelief.
Then I scoffed. "Wow. You had the money. This whole time, you had it."
I took a step back, shaking my head.
"And you claim you love him? That you married him because you care?"
My throat tightened.
"Before you came into our lives, my dad—he wasn't rich, no. But he was doing okay. He had a business. He was thriving. We were surviving."
I stared at her in disgust.
"But the moment you entered his life, everything fell apart. You kept asking. Needing. Wanting. You dragged him down piece by piece, until he couldn't even breathe anymore."
"That's his business, not mine," she said, flipping her hair back. "You can either suck it up, or keep whining."
She leaned back, crossed her arms, and added, "Either way, I'm still getting my percent."