The doctors take over swiftly, wheeling Mom into a room. I try to follow, but the door slams shut in my face.
"You're not allowed in," one of them says firmly.
"But I'm her daughter!" I shout, pounding once on the door.
"Helen."
I hear Dad's voice behind me.
I turn and collapse into his arms, and he wraps me tightly, like he's trying to hold both of us together.
"Why do you all keep things from me?" I cry into his chest, my voice cracking.
He doesn't respond right away. I feel his breath hitch, the panic he tries to mask tightening in his throat.
"She's going to be fine," he says softly. "Mom's strong. She'll get through this."
I pull away slightly, just enough to see Saint sitting off to the side, eyes fixed on us, silent. I turn back to Dad, staring straight into his eyes.
"Why didn't you tell me Mom's been fighting cancer?"
The tears are already threatening to fall again.
Dad sighs, tired, like he's aged years in just a few moments.
