This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Fifteen years ago
Bianca looked from her pale brother lying too still on the hospital bed to the smiling nurse. The room was dark except for the light above Jonny’s bed and the red and green lights dotting the machines keeping him alive.
“Sweetie, you can lay down in the bed next to your daddy’s,” the nurse said.
Adults would argue with her if she told them she wasn’t leaving her brother, Jonny’s, side until he was healed. They thought her too young to understand words like coma and deteriorating, and they accused her of lying when she said she could help him.
“Okay,” Bianca replied.
The nurse handed her a thin blanket and pointed to the phone. “Call me if you need anything, okay? All you have to do is pick up, and I’ll answer.”