I got into the car and put on my seatbelt. I grabbed my stomach and closed my eyes. Graham and my mom got in the car at the same time and neither of them had their seatbelts on before Graham hit the gas pedal and sped away.
We reached the hospital 10 minutes later and Graham wheeled a wheelchair over to me, still sitting in the car. Still holding onto my stomach, like it might fall off, I slid into the cold, leather wheelchair and put my feet onto the metal footrests.
“Are you okay, sweetie?” Graham asked, bending over and kissing my neck as he wheeled me inside.
“I think so.” I said quietly, breathing in the fumes of the hospital. This brought back a lot of memories; being anorexic, being with Jeremy, having pneumonia from walking to the rehab center, and the place where my father died. I closed my eyes, trying to block out all the memories.