Chapter 1
“Stop exaggerating. You're fine.”
My mother's voice cut through the kitchen as I struggled to keep myself upright.
I was bent over the kitchen island, one hand pressed against my stomach, the other gripping the edge so tightly my fingers hurt.
The pain felt like somebody was twisting my insides.
“Mom…” I gasped. “Please. It really hurts.”
Denise Carter stood across from me, holding a glass of water.
She didn't look worried.
She looked annoyed.
“You always do this when you don't want to go to school.”
I tried to straighten my back, but another wave of pain hit me.
My knees buckled.
“Mom!”
The glass slipped from her hand and landed in the sink.
Before I could fall, my father rushed into the kitchen.
“Malik!”
Dad caught me beneath my arms and pulled me against his chest.
His name was Marcus Carter.
He was the strongest person I knew.
But when he felt how badly I was shaking, I heard something change in his breathing.
“What happened to him?”
Mom crossed her arms.
“He's been complaining about his stomach all morning.”
“All morning? And you didn't call me?”
“I thought he was pretending.”
Dad looked down at me.
My face was wet with tears.
“I can't stand up, Dad.”
He immediately lifted me into his arms.
“I'm taking you to the hospital.”
Mom stepped forward.
“Marcus, you're overreacting.”
He turned toward her.
“Look at his face!”
She said nothing.
Dad grabbed his keys and carried me outside.
I buried my face against his shoulder.
He kept whispering that everything would be okay.
But something about the way he held me told me he was scared.
Very scared.
At the hospital, a nurse rushed me into an examination room.
Dad never released my hand.
A doctor named Dr. Bennett examined me and ordered several tests.
He was an older man with gray hair and a serious expression.
When he returned, he looked at my test results for a long time.
Then he looked directly at my mother.
“This isn't a normal stomachache.”
Mom shifted in her chair.
“What does that mean?”
Dr. Bennett placed the results on the desk.
“Something he has been repeatedly consuming appears to be making him sick.”
Dad slowly turned toward her.
“What?”
The doctor continued.
“We're investigating the exact cause, but his symptoms and initial findings suggest repeated exposure to something his body isn't tolerating.”
I looked at Dad.
There was something I needed to tell him.
“Dad…”
He leaned closer.
“What is it, buddy?”
“Mom gives me the same drink every morning.”
Mom's face changed.
Dad looked at me.
“What drink?”
“The brown one. She says it's healthy.”
Mom stood abruptly.
“Malik, don't start making things up.”
I flinched.
Dad noticed.
“Don't speak to him like that.”
Dr. Bennett raised another sheet.
“There's something else in his results.”
Dad stood.
“What else?”
The doctor hesitated.
“We need to discuss this carefully. Some of the findings suggest this may not be an isolated incident.”
Dad looked at my mother.
“What have you been giving my son?”
Mom backed away.
“Marcus, I can explain!”
I watched my parents argue while the doctor called another nurse.
I didn't understand everything.
But I understood one thing.
My mother wasn't surprised by what the doctor had found.
She was afraid of it.
And when Dad looked at her again, I saw an expression I had never seen before.
He no longer looked confused.
He looked like a father who had just realized his own child might have been in danger inside his home.
I wanted to ask what was happening.
But the pain was getting worse.
I squeezed Dad's hand.
“Please don't leave me.”
He bent down and kissed my forehead.
“Never, son.”
May you like
Then the doctor closed the examination room door.
And my mother began crying.
