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These two years,maybe from the countless beatings,my health had deteriorated.
I was constantly exhausted,had no appetite,and lately,my symptoms worsened.
"Hey,I'm talking to you!You deaf or what?"
Carla stormed over,yanking my hair,slapping me hard.
She towered over me—I was no match.
"If you hadn't protected that politician,my brother wouldn't have killed himself!You elites rake in millions while we lose everything!You deserve to die!"
Another slap.I spat blood,turning away.
"I didn't protect anyone.In three months,he'll be caught.Just wait."
I lay back,ignoring her.
"What's that supposed to mean?Explain!"
Carla tried to drag me up,but other inmates pulled her back.Guards turned a blind eye to bullying,but they didn't dare let it things went too far.
Amid the noise,I closed my eyes,feelikng nothing but exhausted.
I didn't kill anyone.I didn't protect the politician.
I'm a journalist.
A journalist who fights for justice,for the people.
There's more to what people think happened.I just needed the right moment to reveal it,and now that moment was here.
Once Nathan gathered all the evidence,I would be exonerated.
At dinner,I ate little—a whole potato,three bites,and I was full.
"1306,the prison doctor wants you."
Inmates here were all felons.Besides biannual checkups,the doctor rarely summoned anyone.
Given my recent symptoms,I had a bad feeling.
As expected,the doctor presented my report:late-stage stomach cancer.
"You didn't notice thagt you were vomiting blood?If you noticed early,we could've intervened.Now,the cancer's spread.Nothing can save you anymore."
Vomiting blood...
I was beaten regularly—blood was routine.Maybe I had symptoms before,but who could tell?
I gave a bitter smile,my wounds stinging.
"How long do I have left?"
"Two months,max."
