⚠️Warning! Mention of sexual harassment and unsettling themes that may make some people uneasy.
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— 𖤐 𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐑𝐀𝐍'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕 :
Zayran's age : Eleven
I hate falling sick. It's the worst feeling ever.
I loathe the weakness that feels like a big, heavy blanket, making me feel sick and tired.
Being sick means being trapped in a place that feels like hell—the hospital.
It's like a prison that only makes me feel even more sick.
I can't help that my body betrays me so often; I've been a weak kid for as long as I can remember.
My parents have had to rush me to doctors at the slightest hint of illness, whether it was from a single ice cream or a piece of junk food. They've probably taken me to every doctor in New York.
I hated my life the way it was. I never felt like a normal kid, always sidelined by my health.
I feel like I'm stuck in this never-ending cycle of being sick. Even a simple fever, cold or cough knocks me out so bad that I end up in the hospital.
The sickly sweet smell of antiseptic clung to the air, making me nauseous, and the relentless noisy beeping of machines haunted my memories from when I was bedridden with severe flu. It's a constant reminder that I'm too weak.
I can't even enjoy my favourite snacks like other kids. I have to stick to this certain diet, or else I'm back in that dreaded hospital, just like now.
I sit on the bed, wearing the ugly, loose hospital clothes and staring out the window of my hospital room. It's drizzling outside, and the gloomy weather matches my mood perfectly.
This time, I'm here because I've recently lost my appetite for food. No matter how much Ma and Papa coax me, I can't seem to swallow even a single bite. Instead, I'm hooked up to an IV, the lifeline keeping me alive, while a noisy beeping machine monitors my shaky breaths.
Ma always says I'm her strong 𝐩𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐫, and Papa tells me he's proud of me for being brave. But I know I'm neither strong nor brave, and I think they know it too. They just say those things to make me feel better, and I can't help but admire their kindness.
[ Son ]
They're the sweetest and most wonderful people, always trying to cheer me up.
Sometimes, I wish they had only my little sister, Zara. She's a bright light in our home, always bouncing around, healthy and bursting with happiness. Her cheerful laughter fills the air and brings them so much joy—unlike me, who seems to be always unwell.
It's like she's the perfect kid, and I'm just... well, me. The one who always gets sick and drags them to the hospital, bothering them endlessly. I can also clearly see the worry in their eyes.
