Over the last fifteen years, eleven of the subjects died of the same sickness. Twelve years ago, my father finally discovered the strand of DNA that was defective. A weakness you all have. By then it was too late. It’s only a matter of time.” Daniel’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. Sadness seemed to cause his shoulders to droop. “Your headaches. The nosebleeds. I knew what they meant—what was slowly happening to you. It made me realize my true feelings for you, to know I had little time with you left.” Air stilled in my lungs. “You’ve actually lived longer than my father estimated, but... you
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