Chapter 1: Morgan's POV
The harsh fluorescent lights buzzed above me, unforgiving and cold, while the soft hum of machines filled the quiet like a reminder that nothing here ever truly slept.
I was on my third consecutive twelve-hour shift, moving between rooms, checking on patients, emptying bedpans, and adjusting IVs.
This is my life working two jobs a day just to earn enough money to afford my bills and my mother's medication, because her health insurance doesn't really cover all of her expenditures.
Sleep is like a distant dream for me.
My only true friends are the coffee machine at home and the one at the nurses' station.
"Do you need help, ma'am?" I asked the elderly woman who seemed to have forgotten the road to her room.
The look on her face told me everything and I knew this because I'd seen that look on her face one too many times.
"I can't find my room," she muttered softly.
I held her hand and showed her to her room.
I helped her get on the bed and covered her up so she wouldn't catch a cold.
"Call me if you need something," I said with a professional smile.
But I knew she wouldn't call because she always forgets and ends up getting lost.
"Thank you, dear, and yes, I'll call you," she said with a polite smile.
I nodded and left, because that was the only thing I could do.
I paddled to the nursing station. My feet hurt like hell, but I couldn't complain I can't.
I have to work. I have to do anything and everything possible to stay here.
If my supervisor sees me slacking off, it might cost me my nursing program.
I pulled a half-stale granola bar from my stained scrubs and munched on it while reviewing my pharmacology notes on my phone.
My eyelids threatened to shut, but I fought it. Like I said, my nursing program is on the line.
I have no time to slow down or sleep, so I'm going to use my break to review my notes rather than sit and chat with other nurses.
Within the blink of an eye, my break was over, so I had to put my phone away.
When it's working hours, we're not allowed to touch our phones.
We're supposed to give our patients our full attention nothing less, nothing more.
That's how things are at Providence General Hospital.
I sat vigilant. Although there was no emergency right now, I couldn't lose focus especially not when my supervisor was staring at me.
I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I wanted to ignore it, but I couldn't because it might be an emergency.
There's only one person who would call me at three a.m., and that's either my mother or her hospital.
I couldn't answer the call, so I just tucked it at the back of my mind I had to call my mom back.
During a lull, I ducked into the supply closet. And just as I suspected, the missed call was linked to my mother. It was her hospital calling.
I called back while crossing my fingers and praying for good news.
"Good morning, Morgan Devon. I'm Amaya from the billing department of health insurance."
"Your mother's health insurance has relapsed because you missed a premium. And because of this, we won't be able to fund the experimental treatment for your mother."
"But the treatment requires a $47,000 deposit upfront. Where do you expect me to get that kind of money? Please, ma'am, can't you make an exception? I promise to pay. I swear I'll pay the missed premium."
"But please don't cancel my mother's treatment funds. It took us a while to get into this program, and now that she's finally eligible for it, you can't make us lose it," I begged.
"I'm sorry, Miss Devon. There's nothing I can do to help you out. I can't go against company policies."
"I'm currently working two jobs I'll pay. Please, Amaya, please don't cut my mother off. Please, just don't take this away from us. I beg you."
I couldn't fight the tears that were threatening to fall.
My mom is my only family. I don't know what I'll do without her.
"Like I said, there's nothing I can do. Have a good day, Miss Devon."
She dropped the call without saying anything that could lift my mood.
I didn't know what to do. I was so confused. Where do I even begin? How will I raise $47,000?
My heart was running a race in my chest. I couldn't breathe.
I crumbled to the ground like a piece of paper. The walls seemed to be closing in on me. My heart couldn't take this.
I thought I had moved past this. How did I end up here again? I'm back at the beginning of everything.
I picked myself up from the ground and had to will myself to stop crying and get back to work because no matter how shattered and heartbroken I felt, I still couldn't lose this program.
So I went back to work and acted like everything was fine.
I worked diligently. I didn't let the news I had just received affect my performance.
Finally, it was over. My shift ended. I boarded the early morning city bus, which rattled through nearly empty streets.
My mind kept returning to the phone call. No matter how hard I tried not to dwell on it, I just couldn't.
I felt so guilty for failing my mother for not being able to help her.
I dried my tears with the back of my hand, but they just kept pouring like a broken fountain.
I have no one else to turn to but myself.
The bus stop was six blocks from my run-down apartment.
I walked alone through the silent and dark streets. When I finally arrived home, I thought.
Finally, I'll get some solace, but my door had other plans. It was jammed.
Of course, it was jammed, it always does this, especially when I'm at my lowest.
I wanted to kick the door, but I knew my mom was inside, sleeping.
So I just leaned on it and sighed. I tried to calm my nerves before trying again.
While doing that, I stumbled upon a cream-colored envelope wedged under my door. My name was scrawled across it.
I picked it up and checked, it had no return address. Who could this be? And what is this about?
I tried to open the door again, and this time, it worked.
I pushed it open and walked in as quietly as I could.
My mom was in the other room, and I didn't want to wake her up.
I didn't want to see her face, didn't want to look her in the eyes, and tell her that I had disappointed her.
So I tiptoed into my room and shut the door before switching on the light, I placed the letter on my bed and drop my things on the table.
My scrubs are stained from a spill in the ER, I smelled like antiseptics and medicine so I went to the bathroom to take a bath.
After the short warm bath, I came back into the room fully clothed in my nightdress.
The letter was still on the bed where I left it so I picked up the decided to read what was inside. My breath catches, fear and curiosity gripped me.....