I spent weeks in the hospital fighting for my life, and my family never came once. Not my mother, not my father, not my sister. One month later, my mom texted asking for $12,000 for my sister’s bridal dress.

wet. “One day, you’ll need us.”

I thought of the hospital. The white lights. The plastic tubes. The nurse named Amelia who braided my hair because it had matted against the pillow. Marcus sleeping in a chair with his jacket over his knees. My empty doorway.

“I already did,” I said.

She had no reply to that.

They left without another word.

The elevator doors continue reading …