Page 4 of Immortal Throne

CHAPTERTWO

My thighs stuck to the plastic chair in the small room as the older doctor sitting across from me continued to speak, spilling all sorts of medical information. The words washed over me. After he said terminal organ failure, really, what else was there to say?

I came to Dr. Callahan about the fainting spells and expected something simple like the need to drink more water or pop a multivitamin but, as it turned out, I was dying.

The clock’s second hand kept moving—tick, tick, tick. The computer on the desk behind the doctor kept humming. The people in the waiting room outside kept talking, the low murmur of their voices traveling through the seams around the closed door.

Life kept moving even though mine was falling down all around me.

What was I going to do with Chupey?

Maybe Becca would take care of him.

No, that wouldn’t work. She hated dogs.

I wish Mom was here.

The cool air-conditioning brushed over my bare arms. I shivered and regretted choosing another tank top for today’s appointment.

I…I didn’t want to die. I was only twenty-five. There were so many things I wanted to do, places I wanted to go, book boyfriends I wanted to have fictional relationships with, and television couples to ship.

I’d only felt a little tired. That was it. A few fainting spells were the only sign something was wrong. I’d thought my iron levels were low and suspected I might be anemic or something to do with fighting in the cage. Not this. Notdying.

I wasn’t prepared for this, even after all the poking and prodding over the last few weeks.

I forced my hands to relax and took a deep, calming breath.

Of course, it didn’t fucking work.

The doctor looked at me expectantly, blinking and waiting.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I asked, clutching my backpack in my lap. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe they were all wrong and this was just some sick joke.

Dr. Callahan flashed me a small, sad smile before speaking. “I’ve already called over to BCH. There's a bed waiting for you, and I’ve already called their team of specialists and briefed them on your case. We just need you to sign some forms to get started.”

BCH? I barely heard anything beyond that. Braton Community Hospital was where my mother spent her last days. And died.

I couldn’t go there.

He must’ve read my answer from my expression because he quickly followed up with, “I want to help you. We may not know what this is now, but maybe if we monitor you more closely, get a few more tests–”

“No.” The word snapped from my lips so harshly, Dr. Callahan stepped back. Panic started to claw at my insides just at the thought of being stuck in a hospital bed, forced to live out my remaining hours staring at the white walls and hearing the monitors around me beep. I didn’t want that to be my reality. “No, no. I can’t.”

The doctor cleared his throat. “The mystery of this ailment means there’s no cure, but it also means there’s still hope.”

Ha! Right. I’d had a lot of hope when Mom first got her cancer diagnosis. That hadn’t turned out well for either of us, since she was currently in the fucking ground.

Dr. Callahan studied me, his dark brown gaze warm and sympathetic. The skin around his eyes and mouth had the telltale wrinkles of someone who smiled and laughed a lot. He certainly wasn’t doing any of that now.

“Sloane, please. This may be the only way we can fix this.”

“Thank you, doctor,” I said dismissively and pushed out of the chair. The skin stuck to the plastic made a loud sound like wet Velcro as it released its hold on the chair. Wincing, I brushed the wrinkles from my khaki shorts and quickly went for the door.Get me out of here.“I appreciate your help.”

“Take a few days to think about it,” he called out. “If you change your mind, you have my number.”

I hurried out of the doctor’s examination room, both numb and vibrating with anxiety, like I wasn’t part of this reality anymore. The waiting area was a blur of faces and empty chairs, yet it took forever to cross the room to the doors outside. When I finally stepped out of the air-conditioned office, the heat smacked me in the face. The humidity clung to me as I took a deep breath of thick summer air.

The sound of traffic and construction rumbled down the street along with the constant buzz of insects. Across the road, a statue of some general stood at the town center with a plaque I’d never cared to read, and BCH was on the other side, next to the train station.

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