He squeezed my hand. “You had a severe allergic reaction. The paramedics used two EpiPens in the ambulance.”
Two. The number landed heavy and cold.
“If we’d waited any longer,” he continued, voice thickening, “they said—”
He stopped. He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.
In the hallway outside my room, I could hear raised voices. My parents. A nurse’s calm reply. My mom’s voice cracked with panic.
A doctor came in a moment later, followed by my parents. They looked like they’d been emptied out. My mom’s face was pale and blotchy from crying. My dad’s jaw worked like he was chewing on regret. Kate trailed behind them, eyes swollen and red, like she’d cried too but maybe also like she didn’t know where to put herself.
“Miss Mitchell,” the doctor said, glancing at my chart. She looked to be in her forties, hair pulled back, expression serious in a way that didn’t soften when she saw my parents. “I’m Dr. Patel.”
She pulled up something on a tablet and her gaze flicked over it quickly. “We have your initial test results back, and I need to talk to you about what we’re seeing.”
My heart rate picked up, and the monitor beeped faster like it was worried with me.