𝙰 𝙹𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚐𝚢𝚊𝚕 (𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚋𝚒𝚊𝚗) 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢.
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𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐀𝐳𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞, a confident and bold young athlete with a sharp wit and a fearless attitude. She's kn...
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Swear if mi nuh kick dung dah gyal deh sumn wrong.
The nurse had given Mira a bag to breathe in but dat barely did a do nothing.
"Amira you have to breathe, we can't give you anything unless you breathe" she tighten the sphygmomanometer around her arm and squeeze the inflation bulb.
I squeeze her hand and she look up at me and shake her head "Does it hurt?" I whisper to her and she nod.
"To breathe, does it hurt to breathe" I ask again through my tears.
"Mira yuh have to answer me, I need to know, yuh affi call ar mada, somebody!, the ambulance" I turn to the nurse who sighed.
I was about to get up but she grabbed my hand stopping me "stay here please" her voice was hoarse but I heard and nod, sitting back down beside her.
"Moya!"
"Yeah?" She opened the door.
Di nurse bout suh much people cyah deh in yah.
"Call aunty Mel" I told her and she nod.
"Young lady-"
"Yuh call yuh self a nurse but barely a do shit suh nuh chat tuh mi." I kissed my teeth and turn back to Moya.
Neva mean fi rude to ar but all shi deh pon is 'breathe' when clearly shi cyah do dat.
I watch as Moya spoke to aunt Mel before hanging up "she a come, shi seh if dem mek ar pickny dead shi a kill everybody dung yah"
"Mi tell dah oman yah fi call the ambulance and shi a chat foolishness a mi ears" I directed to the nurse while speaking to Moya.
~ ~ ~
We were now at the hospital waiting for some news regarding to Mira.
Aunty Mel signed us out of school and trust di oman a guh back dung deh fi raise dem up as she should.
"Shanique stop e bawling nuh" Moya sigh as she held Shan in her arms.
