Countless late-night livestreams, endless hours of exhaustion—I needed the heavy stuff just to suppress the agony in my chest.
Tears welled in Mom's eyes. "I'm calling an ambulance. We're going to General Hospital right now."
I took a shuddering breath and pushed myself up. "Don't bother. Just pay for the rabies vaccine. That's all I need. I have a stream in twenty minutes."
Dad's face turned violent red. "Work? At a time like this? Is money more important than your life?"
He grabbed my arm to stop me, his grip so tight it tore my sleeve.
Something inside me snapped.
"I care about work because I can't afford a cardiac assist device!" I screamed, my voice echoing off concrete. "Because my parents used their connections to help a stranger snatch my donor heart! Because you'd rather save the world than help me front the medical expenses!"
Silence.
"I have to work myself to death just to stay alive!" Tears burned my cheeks. "Livestreaming is the only job my body can handle. You look down on it? Fine. But at least it puts food in my stomach!"
Dad froze, his hand dropping to his side.
The neighbor, looking thoroughly awkward, shoved three hundred dollars into my hand. "For... nutrition," he mumbled, dragging his dog upstairs to escape the family drama.
He shook his head as he went. Even a stranger understood what my parents didn't.
Mom and Dad stood rooted to the spot. Their expressions shifted from anger to confusion, and finally, to something that looked painfully like guilt.
I didn't let it linger. I limped past them, squeezed through the doorway, and slammed the door in their faces.
I livestreamed straight through until midnight.
My heart ached, my leg throbbed, but I kept the smile plastered on. When I finally signed off, a coworker went downstairs to grab our takeout. She came back looking uneasy.
"Sam... your parents are still at the door."
I went to the entrance. They were still there, shivering in the night air.
Mom stared at the greasy takeout box in my hand. "Sam, your health is terrible. You can't eat that garbage. Come home with us. Mom will make you chicken soup."
Even Dad's tone had softened into something pleading. "We failed you before. We know that now. We'll find a way to get the surgery done sooner. Please, don't be stubborn."
I let out a harsh, dry laugh.