scare.” When she leaves, I want to close my eyes and sleep. Maybe this is some sort of nightmare, and I’ll wake up from it. The doctor, a nurse, and my mom rush in the room, interrupting my plan for slumber. The gray haired nurse, whose nametag says Brenda, looks like a grumpy old woman. Her bushy eyebrows curve down in a permanent scowl. “Kennedy, I’m Dr. Wilson.” He seems too young to be on his own just yet, but any concerns are relieved as he examines my chart and looks over my bruised body. His friendly manner puts me at ease in a moment where panic threatens. As he writes in my folder,
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