He didn't finish. He didn't need to.
I knew there wasn't much time left.
Surgery was impossible. What I needed was money.
I needed to pay off my parents' debt. I needed to make sure that after I was gone, they could live without worry.
Even ten more dollars. Twenty more dollars. Anything.
My phone buzzed.
Ellie, Uncle Gabriel asked again. We're still short $30,000.
Mom knows it's hard for you. Don't stress. We'll figure something out.
Thirty thousand. It didn't seem like much anymore.
But how long could I hold on?
I reached into my bag. Inside was a bank card—this month's salary plus what I'd earned from side jobs.
A little over eight thousand.
It was meant for medicine. But what was the point now?
That was several hundred I could save. And with my body like this, there was no reason to keep taking it.
I transferred everything to Mom. Kept nothing.
Back in my room, I pulled open the drawer and took out paper and a pen.
Writing my will, I was calmer than I'd expected.
There wasn't much to say. Just that they shouldn't be sad. That I was simply too tired.
On the last line, I paused.
This way, things should be easier for you.
I put on the cleanest coat I had and walked out the door.