Thirteen

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"We gave you five days to decide."

Everyone was in the room.

Mom.

Dad.

The nurses.

The doctors.

And me.

"The surgery has a 10% success rate."

Except Hobi. Because the doctors are mean.

"And then of course, you could wait until... Things happen naturally."

All the adults pursed their lips.

Who was going to decide?

"Mina?"

"Yes?"

"What do you want to do?"

One means I'll die.

The other means I might die.

And I'd like to live.

"I don't want to die."

"I guess we should try then."

My mom cried again.

My dad looked tired.

I'm sorry.

But I want to get out of here.

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