"Is Jesus okay?" I ask mom as I slowly come around after surgery.

"He's fine, love, how are you? Do you need anything?" She changes the subject.

"Is he going home? I want to see him," I ignore her questions, I need to know if my brother is going to juvie or not, and I need to apologize, it's my fault he did this in the first place.

"The owners of the house he broke into haven't decided if they're going to press charges yet, so he's spending the night in a group home," She sighs, "Mama's with the social worker dropping him off now,"

"No," I say, "Why can't he go home?"

"Gracie, I know you're scared but you need to focus on you, you just got out of surgery," She's been crying, mom hardly ever cries.

"You're a cop! Why can't you do something?" I yell at her, straining myself.

"Gracie!" She raises her voice, "Please, I need you to calm down," She takes my hand, "Jesus can handle himself; he'll be fine, you still have a fever and I need you to get better," She tears up.

"I'm sorry," I relax my body for a moment, when slowly, the pain starts to set in, I feel like someone's stuck a knife into me and they're twisting it around, "What happened?"

"You got some kind of infection, from where the chest tube was placed, they've got you on anti-biotics, the surgery was just to take a closer look at the space between your lungs, they've patched everything up again and they're going to be extra vigil about cleaning and dressing it from now on,"

"Don't cry mom," I flip into protector mode, "I'll be fine, this is just another obstacle that I can tackle, I'll get better," I tell her.

"I know, I know you will," She looks scared, "We got this," She squeezes my hands.

"Hey," Mama comes in, "How are you?" She's out of breath. She kisses me on the forehead, "Did everything go okay?" She asks mom.

"Doctor Simons said everything went well and we just all have to be careful about kind of infections we could pass on to Gracie," She tells her, "So here, sanitise," She passes mama a little bottle of hand sanitiser.

"Has Jesus called you?" Mama cleans her hands, "I told him to call one of us from the home as soon as he could,"

"No, I haven't heard anything yet," Mom says, I grab my phone and find a bunch of missed calls from a landline number, "Gracie?"

"He's been trying to call me," I dial back as fast as I can.

"Gracie, stop," Mama grabs the phone out of my hands and hangs up,

"Mama! What are you doing? He obviously wants to talk to me!" I try to reach to grab the phone from her, but it hurts too much and I have to flop back on the bed, I let out a groan.

"This is what I'm talking about Gracie!" Mom says, "You can't keep pushing yourself like this," She hands me my cup of water.

"I have to talk to him," I say weakly.

"The social worker gave me very strict instructions, we can't contact the home ourselves, he has to be the one making the call, and it can't be past 8 pm," Mama says, "I know it sucks but do you really want Jesus to be any more trouble than he already is?" She's right, if I call him back, who knows what might happen to him in there. I've been in some bad group homes before, I'll never forgive myself if he got hurt. It's my fault he's there and I can't make it any worse for him, I won't.

"I'm sorry," I burst into tears, "You should go," I say to them.

"Oh love," Mom tries to comfort me, "Come here,"

"No!" I shout, "Please, go," I roll over and pull the sheets up over my head. I wait until I hear their footsteps lead out of the room and the door closes, and I start to sob hysterically, no matter how much it hurts I can't stop. What have I done? If I could have just kept him out of this, he'd be fine. He's never going to speak to me again. I want to call Taylor, I need her here with me but mama took my phone. I crawl out of bed onto the floor and slowly make my way over to the table where my laptop is sat. I have to bring my IV stand with me. My shaky hands find the keyboard and I start messaging Taylor to come to the hospital, it's late so visiting hours are over, but she knows I wouldn't ask if I didn't need her. I push my computer away and I have to lay flat on the floor to stop the room from spinning. I put myself in the recovery position and try my best to do all the breathing exercises to calm myself down, and eventually, all I can do is lie shivering, staring at the wall.

"Gracie!" Taylor runs over to me, "I need to get your moms," She's about to yell for them.

"No," I grab her hands, "I don't want them," I pull her closer to me, and put my head on her lap, "Don't go," She pulls my blanket off the bed and wraps it around me.

"What happened?" She's crying.

"I just needed you," I tell her, "I didn't have my phone,"

"Come on, let's get you back into bed,"

"No, I want to stay here, with you," I squeeze her hands so tight. She grabs some pillows and another blanket and lays down behind me, with her arm resting on mine.

"I'm not going anywhere, okay?" She kisses my cheek and starts to run her fingers through my hair. I fall asleep but wake up what feels like only moments later, only, now I'm back in my bed and Taylor's nowhere to be seen.

Mama is here, sitting in her usual spot, looking at me.

"What happened last night?" She asks me, "Something's going on isn't it?"

"What do you mean?" I try to play dumb.

"Don't lie to me, Gracie," She says. But I say nothing, I can't tell her, not until I talk to Jesus. It wouldn't be fair. Mama sighs and leaves the room. She's mad at me. Since I've been sick, moms haven't really gotten mad at me at all, they just get sad. She must be really worried now. I look around my room, my phone is back on my bedside table, ringing.

"Jesus?" I answer, "Is that you?"

"Gracie," I hear his voice, "Are you okay? Moms said you needed more surgery?"

"Forget about me I'm fine, Jesus what the hell were you thinking?"

"I don't know, it was dumb, it made sense at the time, I'm sorry," He's crying.

"Why are you sorry?" I cry too, "You only did this because of me,"

"It was a stupid decision and I was wrong, don't blame yourself, and," He pauses, "I wouldn't blame you if you told moms,"

"Do you think I should?" I shudder, "Won't it only make them madder at me?"

"Gracie, they're not mad at you-"

"Get off the phone!" I hear another voice.

"Jesus?"

"Gracie, I gotta-" A loud banging sound comes through the phone before it cuts off.

"No!" I scream and struggle to catch my breath, then the beeping of my heart monitor starts. Nurse Holly and mama come rushing in but all I can do is moan out in pain. Everything hurts, I can feel the blood trickling out my nose, and I start puking again.

"Gracie?" Mama says, "Holly what's happening?" She asks.

"I need help in here!" Holly yells, and then the other nurses come in, I watch them usher mom out of the room, I see her pressing herself up against the glass, but someone closes the blinds on her, but I keep staring at that same spot in the window where I know she's still standing, going out of her mind worrying. And I start to wonder, could I stop the worrying? Could I make it easier for everyone and just… let go? They'd be sad, but they'd be okay in the end, why keep putting them through this? I look up at the ceiling. The beeping sound gets faster and faster, but I feel calmer. I'm relaxed.

"We're losing her," Someone says. I let a smile fall across my face, the fast beeping becomes singular and long, and finally, I close my eyes.