Celina's POV
The week crawled by like torture. Each day blended into the next, filled with meaningless activities that couldn't distract me from the hollow ache in my chest. The nights were the worst part. I lay awake staring at the ceiling, feeling completely alone while Harriet's anger seemed to grow more intense by the day.
Her condition hadn't improved much. The rashes were gone, but her face remained swollen and distorted. Her lips looked like they'd been attacked by an entire hive of bees, and her cheeks appeared unnaturally puffed up, as if she'd gotten botched cosmetic surgery.
When I went to check on her that afternoon, I stopped dead in my tracks outside her room door. She was on speakerphone with her father, and her voice carried clearly into the hallway.
"Daddy, I can't stand this place anymore. Everything here makes me break out in infections. These stupid forests are poison to me. I feel trapped in this hospital forever," she whined.
