I collapsed in agony at my sister’s wedding rehearsal. Instead of helping, my parents signed a medical refusal form. “She’s just being dramatic, let her wait,” they told the ER. They left me to d//ie so they wouldn’t miss dinner. While the monitor beside me slowed into a terrifying countdown, I realized the one thing hidden inside my tactical jacket was about to turn their perfect high-society weekend into a federal nightmare.

“Sure,” I muttered.

I grabbed the first box. It wasn’t incredibly heavy, but the moment I lifted it, something deep inside my abdomen shifted. A sharp, burning tear. I gritted my teeth, ignoring the wet warmth blossoming under my bandages. I carried it up, set it down, and came back for the second.

By the third trip, the pain wasn’t subtle anymore. It was a vicious, blinding agony, radiating outward like shattered glass. I paused at the bottom of the stairs, my hand pressing hard against my side, trying to regulate my breathing.

“Are you seriously taking breaks already?” Jessica’s voice cut through the room like a scalpel. She was staring at me with pure disgust.

“I just got here,” I managed to whisper.

“And you’re already acting like you’re dying,” she shot back. “Can you not be dramatic for five minutes?”

I picked up the final box. Halfway up the staircase, my vision blurred. The edges of the world went dark. I blinked hard, set the box on the landing, and turned to go back down.

That’s when the internal dam broke.

It wasn’t a sharp stab this time. It was a slow, heavy drop inside my body. A catastrophic release of pressure. My grip on the oak railing failed. My legs turned to lead. The world violently tilted, and I collapsed onto the hardwood floor, cold sweat instantly soaking through my shirt.

“Jessica,” I gasped, my voice barely a rattle. “I think… something’s wrong.”

She didn’t rush over. She just stared up at me from the living room, annoyed. “What now, Morgan?”

“I need… a hospital.”

The room went entirely silent. Jessica crossed her arms, her face twisting into a mask of pure fury as my consciousness began to slip away into the dark.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she hissed, reaching for her car keys. “You are unbelievable.”

I don’t remember the walk to the car. I remember the harsh slam of the passenger door. I remember the agonizing pressure of the seatbelt against my bleeding torso.

“You better not make a scene at the ER,” Jessica spat, keeping her eyes glued to the road as she sped through the suburban streets. “I don’t have time for this, Morgan. Every time something important happens for me, you pull some stunt to steal the attention.”

I rested my head against the cold glass. Everything felt muted, like I was submerged underwater. “I’m not… making a scene,” I breathed.

“Yeah, well, that’s all you ever do.”