The next day:

Kenna's POV

Today is another day. A day that will change my life.

Change for the better, I hope.

Mom has managed to pack a few of my essentials along with hers without my noticing.

She's managed to pick out the exact essentials, and all I could think of was getting Daisy too. She'd be a great support.

I take one last look at our apartment before leaving it. The place I grew up in The place I called home The place I'd probably never see again.

.

.

.

Now in Dr. Hart's cabin, I sit numb and frozen.

It's becoming a habit now.

Mom is signing the patient documents that Dr. Hart is deeply explaining like it's the most important thing in the world.

Once done with that, Dr. Hart calls in a medical staff member via the telephone on his desk.

In walks a nurse who's probably a few years older than mom, in her late forties.

She has a pleasant smile on her face. I notice that her skirt ends on her knees, unlike Alexa's.

She has beautiful brown eyes that match her brown hair. She has a medium body structure that complements her tall frame.

"I'd like you to meet Danica Williams, the nurse who will be here to take care of you and your medical needs," Dr. Hart says.

"Hi Kenna!" Danica smiles warmly at me.

I wanted to smile, but I couldn't. So I just nodded in her direction.

"And I'm Dr. Tyler, who's assigned to your case," he jokes.

Mom and Danica giggle lightly. And I surprisingly manage to smile.

Wow.

And I guess he notices that because he's now grinning.

"Okay, so you're going to be in room thirty-six since I'm in charge of your case, as all the rooms from thirty-one to forty are under my care," he says in his professional tone once the grin fades.

"Yeah, let's get going, Kenna?" Danica asks sweetly, and I nod.

We walk down the long corridor with rooms on either side of us until we're in front of mine.

Room thirty-six is a large room with good furniture. Too good to be in hospitals, I thought.

But then, this is one of those posh and expensive hospitals, which means it's totally normal to have good furniture in here.

The room has cream walls, of which one wall has a huge window that overlooks the city, a patient bed at the center of the room with those creepy machines around it; that's my bed, I thought, a single bed in one corner of the room; that's for mom, a bedside table for me with those horrid instruments, a medium-sized television on an oak wood table and a tiny washroom.

It sounds pretty ordinary, but believe me, it looks damn fancy. Like the paint on the walls, it wasn't just cream paint; it was one of those royal, glossy cream paints that looks elegant.

Well, this is a really good room, and I don't mind being here while being treated in the days to come.

"I'm sorry for saying the worst thing, but you're going to have to change into hospital clothes," Danica says sympathetically.

I groan at this, and mom and Dr. Hart burst out laughing. Danica eventually joins them.

I grab it from her and make my way to the washroom to get changed.

There are two sets of hospital gowns, one totally white and one totally blue.

I bid my clothes adieu and put on the worst thing anyone could ever wear.

Well, I get changed into the white hospital gown and stare at myself in the bathroom mirror and cringe.

I make my way back into the room, disgusted with my outfit.

Mom and Danica just look at me, whereas Dr. Hart smirks. Ugh.

"Okay, now we have to monitor you until we begin the actual treatment," he says, slipping back into his professional voice.

I make my way to the patient bed in fear, for I know what is coming next.

I hate needles. I absolutely hate them.

They'd be pierced into my skin now.

Pain rushes into me the way water rushed into The Titanic, flooding me completely.

Danica and Dr. Hart keep saying things to soothe me down, and maybe that helps distract me.

I now lay on my patient bed, pierced with needles and various plugs latched onto my skin to monitor my movements with machines around me that kept beeping.

But that's how it was supposed to be—beeping at all times.

If it stops beeping, I'll stop living.

So here I am, once again thinking.

Thinking about nothing and then everything.