Imaginary Families.

Darren’s POV

I was running through the hospital before I even understood how I got there.

One moment Stella was grabbing my arm, telling me my sister had fainted, and the next moment my body had already moved without waiting for my mind. I didn’t even stop to think about my skates. I tore them off somewhere outside the entrance, my fingers shaking so badly I almost dropped them, and I ran inside barefoot like pain meant nothing anymore.

It did hurt though.

I felt it with every step.

The sharp sting under my feet, small cuts opening one after another, warm drops of blood hitting the cold hospital floor, but I kept going anyway because none of it mattered if I was too late.

People kept stepping aside as I rushed past them, voices calling after me, nurses asking me to slow down, but everything sounded distant, like I was underwater and the only clear thing in my head was her name.

Priscilla.

My sister.

My only family left in this world.

My chest felt tight as I turned another corner too fast and nearly slipped, catching myself against the wall just before I fell. My breath came out uneven, broken, like my lungs couldn’t keep up with my legs, but I forced myself forward again because stopping felt like something I couldn’t afford.

I didn’t always have just her.

I had a father once.

I still remember the day they told me he was gone. The phone ringing, the voice on the other side saying words I didn’t fully understand at first. Accident, and no survival, gone instantly. I remember standing there holding the phone too tight like if I gripped it hard enough, I could pull him back.

But I couldn’t.

And after that, it was just me, my mom and Priscilla.

Till my mother left.

I can still see it clearly even though I wish I couldn’t. Her suitcase by the door, her face was calm in a way that didn’t match what she was saying. She told us she was moving on, that she was marrying someone who could give her a better life, and that we should not follow her or ruin it for her. She said it like we were something she was putting behind her on purpose.

After that, it was only Priscilla who stayed.

Only her.

And I swore I would never let anything take her away too.

Then two years ago, she got sick.

I still remember the hospital room. The way the doctor’s words sounded too heavy to sit in one place.

Brain cancer.

Treatment, chemo, risk and survival chances. Everything felt like someone speaking a different language while my sister sat there smiling like she was the one comforting me instead of the other way around.

She went through everything.

Days she couldn’t stand without help. At night she cried quietly so I wouldn’t hear her, even though I always did. I acted strong for her because she needed me to be, but every night I would sit outside the room and wonder how long I could keep doing it.

And then she got better.

For a while.

I thought maybe life was finally giving us a break. Then two months ago, it came back.

Worse, this time.

I pushed the ward door open so hard it slammed against the wall, and my eyes immediately found her.

“Priscilla.” She was lying in the hospital bed, her face pale and her body seemed fragile. For a second, my body didn’t move at all. I just stood there staring, waiting for her to blink or turn her head or do something, anything, to prove she was still here with me.

But she didn’t.

My legs finally moved on their own and I walked closer, slowly at first, like I was afraid she might disappear if I moved too fast. I stopped beside her bed and my hand hovered over hers before I finally touched it.

Her skin was warm but weak.

Too weak.

“Priscilla…” my voice came out lower than I expected.

Stella stood quietly near the door, not interrupting, not speaking, just watching like she understood that whatever was happening here was not something she could fix.

The doctor’s voice came out behind me.“Are you Darren?”

I turned quickly. “Yes.”

He didn’t look at me the way doctors usually do when they try to stay calm. His face was serious, heavier than I liked.

“She needs urgent surgery,” he said.

My heart dropped instantly.

I stared at him. “What kind of surgery?”

“Brain surgery,” he replied. “The tumor has progressed faster than expected. If we don’t operate immediately, we may lose the chance completely.”

The words didn’t fully reach me at first. It felt like I heard them but couldn’t accept them at the same time.

Lose the chance.

Lose her.

I shook my head slightly. “How much?”

He told me the amount. And for a moment, everything inside me just stopped.

Not just my thoughts, even my breathing felt paused like my body didn’t know what to do with that number. It was too much, not just expensive, but impossible for someone like me who was already fighting just to keep everything together.

But I still nodded.

“I’ll get it,” I said quickly, too quickly, like if I said it fast enough it would come true.

The doctor looked at me like he wasn’t fully convinced, but he didn’t argue. He just gave a small nod and stepped away.

I stood there for a moment longer, my hands trembling slightly as I pulled out my phone. My fingers moved through contacts without really seeing anything. Names blurred together until I stopped on one.

My mother.

I stared at it.

My chest tightened.

I hadn’t called her in years. Not since she left. Not since she chose a new life over us like we were something she could just put down and forget.

Every part of me hated the idea of calling her now, but another part of me was screaming that I didn’t have a choice.

This was about Priscilla.

I pressed the call button and the phone rang. I was counting imaginary stars in my head to ease the tension of having to hear her voice again after all these years. The thoughts of what she might say ran through my head. Would she even be heartbroken when she hears about Priscilla like a mother would?

Her voice came through calm, almost uninterested as she answered the phone. “Yes?”

I swallowed hard. “Mom…It’s me.”

A pause first, then, “Darren.”

I closed my eyes for a second, trying to steady myself. “Priscilla is in the hospital.”

Silence on the line, I rushed before she could hang up or interrupt. “She needs urgent brain surgery. It’s serious. We don’t have the money. I don’t know what else to do. Please, just help her.”

Another pause, it was longer this time.

Then her voice changed, colder than before. “That’s not my problem.”

I froze, for a second I thought I misheard her.

“What?” I whispered.

“I said it’s not my business,” she repeated clearly. “I told you already, Darren, I have a new life now. Don’t drag me into yours.”

My grip on the phone tightened until it hurt.

“Mom…” I said again, softer this time, like if I said it gently enough she might remember who I was talking about.

But she cut me off immediately. “Don’t call me that.”

My throat tightened.

She continued, her voice final now. “I told you not to contact me again.”

Then the line went dead.