I raced back to the hospital, my heart pounding against my ribs. The image of Mrs. Johnson struggling to breathe haunted me with every step. When I reached her room, I found chaos.
Mrs. Johnson was bent forward in her bed, her thin body convulsing with each violent cough. Cameron stood beside her, his face ashen. Imogen hovered nearby, wringing her hands.
"What happened?" I demanded, pushing past them to reach Mrs. Johnson's side.
"Stay back!" Imogen snapped. "Haven't you done enough?"
I ignored her, focusing on Mrs. Johnson's pale, sweat-drenched face. Her lips had taken on a bluish tint, and each breath came as a desperate wheeze.
"Where's the medicine I gave her?" I asked, searching the nightstand.
Cameron's jaw tightened. "We threw that garbage away. Liam's medicine is what she needs."
"That 'garbage' was keeping her stable!" I grabbed Mrs. Johnson's wrist, checking her pulse. It was racing, erratic. "Where's the bottle now?"
