𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓 || juan ruiz

𝟎𝟐. 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐞, 𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐚, 𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐛𝐮𝐬

Overcome by her own shock, Sammi stepped out into the open, all eyes landing on her. Her parents' faces melted with guilt when they realized she'd overheard them.

"What are you talking about?" Sammi's voice came out as barely above a whisper. Hurt flashed over her features. "Over in Boston? You say that like it's an hour away, that's across the country, Mom."

"Samantha." Her father stepped in, trying to keep his daughter from bubbling over the edge. "It's not a done deal, nothing's been decided."

"But you guys talked about it. When were you gonna tell me?" Sammi snapped, jabbing her finger into her chest.

Her mother shook her head. "Of course we were going to tell you, Sam. We're doing this for you—"

"I'm back on my meds, Mom. I don't need a doctor in Boston. I don't even need a doctor here."

"That's bullshit and you know it, Samantha." She suddenly snapped, catching her daughter off guard. Even Liz turned to her, stunned by her sudden shift in tone. "We all know it. We've seen you on your bad days, and that clinic just has you addicted to those damn pills."

"They help me, Mom. Forgive me if I go a little crazy without them, I need them." Sammi defended herself.

"No, Samantha. What you need is someone who can actually help you. Maybe even cure you." Her mother spoke with a hope that made Sammi sick.

They all knew the second that Sammi was diagnosed with AGDS that she would never be able to be cured. It was never going to go away, no matter how hard they prayed or how much they paid. 

Sammi scoffed, running a hand through her damp hair. She wanted to scream at her mother. She wanted to squash the faith that she had in these doctors that she hadn't even met yet to save her daughter's life. Because she knew that it wasn't possible.

"I can't be cured. You know that better than I do. I'm stuck like this for the rest of my life, and those pills that I'm 'addicted' to help me forget that for a little while." She stared her mother in the eye as she spoke, tone low yet firm. She held back tears and kept herself from clutching her head as the pain in her temples roared inside of her skull.

Everyone was rendered silent. She saw tears welling in her mother's eyes, spilling over when she squeezed them shut. It hurt Sammi to know that she was the cause of them.

She hated seeing her mother cry.

Before she was diagnosed, she would be in the hospital at least once a week because of high fevers and seizures that refused to go away, no matter how much ibuprofen they gave her. Those were the times when she'd seen her mother lose hope. Over and over.

She would lean on Samantha's hospital bed every night, praying over sobs, begging for a miracle. Samantha wanted to reach over and grab her hands and tell her that it'd be alright.

And then it was. They found a flyer pinned up in the children's area of the hospital, asking for volunteers for a newly developed Wellness Program that aimed to 'cure' those like Sammi. All her parents needed to do was sign the consent form.

One summer and seven years later, they realized that their daughter would never see a cure in her life, and the only thing that the program could offer her was some medication that would ease her pain. Like stretching out a bottle of vodka by adding water to it. The kick was going to run out eventually.

"Listen to what she's saying, Mom." Liz suddenly spoke up. "She should have a say in it."

Her father turned to the eldest Diaz girl, eyes narrowing. "Don't use your sister as an excuse, Elizabeth. You just don't want to get stuck taking care of her."