Chapter 18: The Weight of It All
The hospital waiting room was a blur of fluorescent lights and beeping monitors in the distance. The walls were painted a pale, institutional green that did nothing to comfort anyone. The chairs were plastic and uncomfortable, the kind designed to make you want to leave as quickly as possible. But April couldn't leave. She couldn't go anywhere.
Her mother was sitting in one of those plastic chairs, looking like she'd aged a decade in the past few hours. Her hands were folded in her lap, and her hospital scrubs—she'd come straight from her shift—were rumpled and stained with something April didn't want to think about. When she saw April, she stood and pulled her into a tight embrace that felt like it might break.
"He's stable," her mother said immediately, as if saying it first would make it true. "The doctor said his leg is badly fractured. He'll need surgery tomorrow."
"How badly?" April asked, though she wasn't sure she wanted to know.
