way out, trapping me in the ugly room. Leaving me with my racing thoughts and what-ifs and fears. Leaving me with the specter of Death lurking in the corner, his evil and scheming eyes locked on me.
I knew I was being dramatic, but I was allowed. I’d earned it. I’d lived with the toxicity flowing through my body. I’d welcomed a different kind of toxic sludge into my veins, allowing the two to battle inside me until it saved me or killed me. I’d spent nights on the bathroom floor, caked in vomit and too weak to care, begging the deadly rot to win. To kill me.
If that was what I was facing again, I earned the right to be dramatic. To be terrified. I deserved to fall apart and let someone else pick up the pieces.
Which was why I reached over and took Alexander’s hand, soaking in the strength he offered. Because I wasn’t alone. I had him. And, had I told Aria, I knew she’d be there, too. Stressed and worried and grilling every nurse and doctor about every detail because she cared.
That knowledge was enough for me.
“You okay, flower?”
I wanted to say something snarky or joke with him, but I couldn’t push the words past the lump of nerves knotted in my throat. All I could muster was a jerky nod as I pulled him closer so I could bury my face in his shirt.
Minutes stretched to hours that stretched to days. In my head, at least. In actuality, it was less than ten minutes before a soft knock sounded and the door opened. Dr. Elio stepped in and smiled. “Briar, it’s nice to see you again.”
“You, too,” I lied, shaking his hand before introducing Alexander. Nothing personal against the doc, but I’d rather be anywhere else in the world right then.
Belatedly noticing the two women who followed him in, a fresh surge of alarm shot through me until he said, “This is Emily and Quinta, med students shadowing me. Are you okay if they sit in for the appointment?”
“Yeah, it’s fine.” That wasn’t a lie. The room could’ve been filled with hula hooping sharks and the Queen of England on a Razor scooter, and I wouldn’t have noticed so long as the doc finally gave me my results.
I was worried he’d waste time catching them up with a long spiel about my history, but he was a better doctor than that. He looked at me and cut to the chase. “All your labs and tests look perfect. You’re slightly anemic, but nothing that a good multivitamin can’t fix.”
My heart stuttered in my chest and blood roared so loudly in my ears, I worried I misheard him. “Everything’s fine?”
“Better than fine. There are no signs of cancer.”
Tears sprung to my eyes as the specter of Death dissipated, moving on to haunt someone else.
Only after giving me that amazing news did Dr. Elio backtrack to fill the students in on my medical history. On my previous battle with Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia. On the chemo, the pills, the results, and the eventual prognosis that I’d beat the disease.
And, based on the results of the tests he’d ordered, that I’d continued to kick the disease’s ass.
“Now that brings us to your current symptoms,” he said, returning his attention to me.
I braced, waiting for him to tell me it was in my head. That I was being overly sensitive. A hypochondriac.
“Are you under any stress?”
“A bit,” I admitted.
As in, for the entirety of my life.
And probably my life in the alternate timelines.
“That’d do it. Based on your results, I believe the symptoms you’re experiencing are your body’s way of letting you know you need to relax. Sleep better. Give yourself a break. It’s important you listen to your body and treat your mental health with the same priority as your physical.”
Basically, untie the knots and unwrap the thorny vines and stop trying to carry the world on my shoulders.
Taking out a small pad, he wrote down how much iron my vitamin needed to contain and handed it to me. “Increasing your iron should also help. If you’re having trouble making the adjustments, reach out to your PCP. Don’t push it off. The same goes for contacting me. It’s better to repeat tests and be safe than to wait and be sorry.”
“I will, thanks.”
When Alexander and I got outside, I grabbed his hand to stop him.
“What’s wrong?”
I breathed deep. It was the deepest breath I’d taken in a long time. And then