Ryan muttered, “Mom, stop,” but it was weak, automatic—almost meaningless.
Diane moved closer to my bed. “Do you know what this family thinks of you, Emily? They think you’re dramatic, manipulative, and lazy.”
My heart monitor began to rise, the sharp electronic beeps increasing. My mother stood, ready to call for a nurse. My father stood still, but I saw his jaw tighten.
I said, "Get out."
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