The donation consent form I'd sent hadn't gotten a response in days.By the time the call connected, my fingers were so stiff I could barely hold the phone.I set it flat on the table, hunched forward, and called out, "Mother."A pause on the other end, then the rustle of turning pages."Laila?" Her voice carried the irritation of someone interrupted. "What is it?""I... want to donate... my body. Needs... family signature. I sent... the form."My brain was sluggish. The words came out in fragments.Her voice went taut."Laila, how many times have I told you, I'm busy! Stop making things up."I hesitated, then said, "My wolf... has been deteriorating. For three years."A scoff."Three years?" She said it back slowly, her voice laced with icy disdain. "Laila, wolf decay doesn't last three years. You're lying again. And the last time you showed up, your color was perfectly fine."That was the cruel irony of it. The worse my condition got, the healthier I looked.A false flush. I'd read a
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