"Emma?
Can you
tell me where
you are?"

Monique's voice
comes into
focus
and though I
wasn't unconscious,
I feel like
I'm waking up.
I start to
register
my surroundings.

I'm on
Monique's couch.
My neck is
cold and
when I go to reach
for it,
my arm simply
refuses to
lift.

"Is the
ice pack
okay?"
She asks.

Oh.

The sharp pains
still have
no mercy,
even laid out
on the couch.

"Yeah,"
I say.
I wish I was
buried in
one of those
ice freezers
at the grocery store,
to ease the
pounding aches
all over me.

She smiles,
but anxiety
is scrawled
across
her eyes.
I am
swarmed
with guilt.

"Welcome back."

"Did you call-"
I dissolve
into coughs,
which sets off
the tic
in my back
again.
I'm jolting around
like I'm being
electrocuted
repeatedly
and when
tears of pain,
exhaustion,
and confusion
rise—
my mess of
emotions
rushing to
escape my
body this way—,
I see
pity in
Monique's eyes.

"I wish
I could
take this
from you."
She looks
so sad
it breaks
my heart,
adding to
my agony.

"You don't
deserve it,
so I don't think
the universe
will be
giving you this
anytime soon."
My sentence
comes out
in pieces
due to my
hacking away.

I do not
want
to cry again.

"You don't
deserve this."
She tells me firmly.
"I have been
given
hard things
to go through
that aren't
necessarily
because I'm
a bad person.
You know
that."

And it's true.
Monique
doesn't deserve
the torture
she gets.
I
am just
a fraction
of
her hardships.

"Did you call-"
Another
violent wave
of coughs
comes through.
Seriously.
This is
an inconvenience.

"Shelley called
your mom.
Voicemail.
Should we try
step-dad?"

I shake my head.
"Ambulance?"

"I didn't
call one.
Martha said
to
wait and see
first."

Maybe that's
admin lady.

"Do you
want one?"
Monique asks.

No way José.

I shake my
head.

"Can you
sit up so
we can
use your
inhaler?

I feel like
a baby
being
taken care of.

I let her
pull me up,
the tic still
throwing me
around
and coughs
pretty much
ruining my life.

"This is
going to be
hard,"
She almost
breathes a
chuckle,
shaking my
inhaler.
"But you
need it."

Believe me,
I agree
whole-heartedly.
If I could
hit pause on my
body's chaos
for just
a second,
I would.

I hear the
office phone ring
as I go to
inhale.
Monique
shakes it up
again
for another hit
and I register
Shelley saying
my name.
My mom must have
called back.
I inhale again
and collapse back
onto the couch.

I am so done
with this stupid
body.
I would like—
no, I demand
a refund.
I am so
exhausted
and I am
wearing out
the people
around me.