Sabrina stifled a giggle. "Grace, you're not mad, are you?" she challenged, a glint in her eyes.

I mumbled, pressing my throbbing forehead. "I don't care."

An awkward silence descended.

Sabrina looked down, then, using a nail clipper, began peeling off the sticker, muttering apologies.

The scraping sound grated on my nerves. I put on headphones, but Antonio's gaze, through the rearview mirror, was unwavering.

He then said to Sabrina, "Grace's getting worse. Hospital."

My condition, exacerbated by their relentless torment, had progressed to pneumonia.

Treatment escalated from IVs to inpatient care, but Sabrina refused to stay.

She anxiously checked her phone, seemingly bombarded with messages.

Antonio asked, "Friend's waiting?"

Sabrina shook her head, feigning distress. "My friend wants to see us, but Grace is sick. I can't leave her."

Sabrina's

My helplessness was crushing

came to

the strong scent of alcohol alerted

Antonio, practically intertwined,

intervened,

"That man

I nodded.

He looked you're.

They waltzed

not me

swovenet

a motel!" :

them, and they mean nothing to me," I

signed, recognizing

number. Call me if you need

sending messages promising

unwell.

him because he had blocked my

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