Ava
I sat in the hospital hallway, my arms wrapped tightly around my midsection as if I could somehow hold myself together. The fluorescent lights above flickered faintly, casting a strange kind of stillness in the air despite the chaos around me.
Marcel had driven like a madman to get us here, and now he stood in front of the doctor, chest heaving, voice cracking.
"Give him my blood. Now!" he barked.
The doctor, a calm older man with weary eyes, tried to explain, "Sir, we have to test you first. It’s protocol. We need to make sure—"
"No!" Marcel snapped, stepping closer. "My blood matches. It’s clean. Just take it!"
I blinked, shocked by how desperate my brother sounded. His voice wasn’t just panicked—it was personal. Like something deeper was clawing at him. And then, quietly, our
