I kept my face blank. "We were poor. Couldn't afford a real hospital."
Mom sobbed the entire way, repeating "I'm sorry" and "Mommy will take you to a real doctor."
The van stopped in front of a doorway with no sign.
Inside, a single fluorescent bulb dangled from the ceiling, casting dim, sickly light.
The floor was littered with used syringes, blood-stained cotton swabs, and torn blister packs.
The examination table was covered in yellowed plastic sheeting. On a rusted metal tray beside it sat a collection of corroded forceps.
Everyone went still.
One of the witnesses—Dr. Finch—spoke first, his voice hard. "Medical waste disposed of like this? This violates every regulation in the book."
The comments exploded:
[WHAT THE HELL IS THIS PLACE?!]
[Is this healthcare or a death sentence?!]
[Her own mother brought her HERE?]
[Wait... why does this look so familiar...]
Rachel inhaled sharply.
"This—this matches the description of that illegal clinic our station exposed: unlicensed injections, unverified medications..."
Mom rushed over and grabbed my arm. "Doris, why would you come to a place like this..."