After being disowned by her parents, fifteen year old Serena Verlice finds herself in a toxic relationship with a much older man. She undergoes four years of emotional and physical abuse until one day she goes to the doctor and receives a devastatin...
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Four months ago
My eyes remain trained on the polished floor, my breathing laboured as the once large room now feels much smaller, almost as if the four walls are closing in on me and slowly suffocating me in the process.
"Miss?" The doctor questions, tilting her head so that our eyes can meet. I lift my head slightly, our eyes locking as I stare at her concerned expression.
"Did you hear me?" She asks softly, sending me a tight lipped smile.
"Yeah," I mutter, my mouth dry. "A year or two if I'm lucky," I repeat what she said moments before, my voice low and strained.
"That's only if you don't receive specialist treatment," She chirps, attempting to sound optimistic.
Her optimism does little to comfort me, I know I won't be able to afford the treatment. I work full time, forty-eight hours a week and yet I barely see a penny of my pay check, all my money being used to pay off the enormous amount of debt my fiancé has accumulated.
"The treatment usually costs around fifty to sixty grand," She reveals, flicking through her clipboard. "We could set up a payment plan if you'd like," She offers.
I don't reply, this shocking information rendering me speechless. She looks back up at me, her eyebrows knotted in confusion as she awaits a reply.
"No," I state abruptly after a few moments of silence, pulling myself off the tattered leather chair. "Thank you," I call out to her as I exit the room and push my way into the crowded hallway.
I start to panic. There's too many people, too much noise. My head pounds as I rush outside, desperate for the air I was being deprived of in that stuffy office.
I stand outside the hospital, my feet firmly rooted to the ground as I stare out at the carpark, remembering how only an hour before I was walking in with no awareness of the life crushing information I was about to receive.
For the past year my health has been deteriorating. First it was just constant exhaustion and my inability to keep food down but it got worse.
Now I often collapse anytime I do any strenuous task and I get extreme nausea randomly or every time I eat anything.
'Without treatment you can expect to live another year or two if you're lucky'
Her words repeat over and over again like a loop until eventually that sentence is the only thing consuming my mind.
The years I struggled, all those years I worked so hard to survive now mean nothing. My hands find their way to my hair, gripping it in stress as I realise everything I've went through has been utterly pointless.
My arising panic attack is interrupted by my phone buzzing in the pocket of my jeans. I pull it out, immediately answering it when I see who it is.
"James-" I begin, but I'm immediately cut off. "Where are you?" He seethes, the anger evident in his hostile voice.
