Cynthia Dion:
When Mr. Holt returned to the room with a meal tray, I started to settle into bed.
"The doctor said you're weak, and we need to run some tests," he mentioned. He placed the tray in front of me and sat on the bed. There were some mixed emotions on his face that I couldn't quite grasp at the moment.
"I'm okay; that won't be necessary," I replied quietly, shaking my head at the thought. I truly felt fine; it was just that stress had taken a toll on both my physical and emotional well-being.
"It's just a blood test," he reassured me, then watched as I started to eat my food.
"I don't have an appetite right now," I explained, my reluctance to eat stemming from the association of food with the chocolate I had foolishly used on my body.
"Cynthia!" He urged me to hold the torti
