LexiI pace the sterile linoleum floor of the hospital corridor, the antiseptic stench clawing at my nose as machines beep faintly behind the door to Dexter’s room.My heels click against the tile, a sharp rhythm against the chaos brewing in my heart. They rushed him here hours ago, my boy, his small body limp in my arms, blood still staining his shirt.The doctors swarm him—tests, scans, needles piercing his fragile skin—but they find nothing. Almost two hours later, a white haired doctor comes out of the room.“We're doing the best we can,” he says when I asked if Dexter is alright now. He didn't seem confident.Then he added, “There's no sign of infection, no rupture, no reason for the coughing, the blood, ma'am.”“What does this mean?” I ask, more alarmed than I was when I brought him in.“It means, whatever is making your son bring up blood anytime he coughs isn't—”“No, doctor—you can't be serious.”The doctor sighs. “Ms. Rex, I'm afraid we've run out of options. Your son's cond
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