In the most expensive private suite of the hospital, a boy was dying. His name was Artie, and he was ten years old.
His father was a man of immense wealth. He could buy anything, but he couldn’t buy his son’s health. Artie was simply drifting away, falling into a sleep that grew deeper every day. He barely woke up anymore. Seventeen of the world’s top medical specialists had reviewed his charts and come up empty. The labs were perfect, but the boy was fading.
Out in the hallway, a little girl stood by the window. Her name was Lily, and she was eight. Her mother, Sarah, worked on the hospital’s janitorial staff, and Lily often waited for her there after school. She was a quiet, observant child. She watched the doctors rushing past, saw Artie’s mother quietly weeping in the corner, and watched his father pacing the halls, his voice tight with the kind of anger that only comes from total helplessness. Lily saw it all, and it felt hauntingly familiar.
She was scared because she had seen this before. Her own father had faded away just six months ago. He had simply fallen asleep and never woke up. The doctors at their local clinic couldn’t explain it, calling it an “atypical progression” before giving up. Lily remembered her dad complaining that it felt like something was moving in his throat. No one believed him. By the time they took him seriously, it was too late.
Now, Lily looked at the VIP suite and heard the doctors using the same words: “mystery illness,” “vitals are normal.” But the boy on the white sheets was as pale as a ghost.
She knew. She just knew it wasn’t a normal disease. The girl approached a young nurse, Nancy, who had just stepped out of the room, looking defeated.
— “Ms. Nancy,” Lily said softly, tugging on her scrubs. “It’s… it’s in his throat. You have to look in his throat.”
The nurse sighed and rubbed her tired eyes.
— “Lily, honey, not right now. We’re having a really hard time in there. The doctors have checked everything.”
— “But my dad…” Lily started, her voice catching.
— “I know about your dad,” the nurse said gently. “But this is different. Go find your mom, okay?”
Lily backed away. Her heart was racing. Through the cracked door, she saw Artie make a slight swallowing motion in his sleep, his brow furrowing in discomfort. It was exactly what her father used to do.
She found her mother in the supply closet. Sarah was rinsing a mop, looking exhausted.
— “Mom,” Lily said, her voice trembling. “That boy… he has what Dad had. I’m sure of it.”
Sarah looked down, her eyes full of a dull ache.
— “Lily, sweetie, stop. Don’t put yourself through this again. Those doctors are the best in the country. They know what they’re doing.”
— “But they don’t! Not really,” Lily cried, tears finally spilling over. “They didn’t see how Dad kept reaching for his neck. They weren’t listening!”
Her mother pulled her into a tight hug…
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