The alarm clock screamed at six-thirty in the morning, its shrill cry bouncing off the thin walls of the small house. Jason groaned and rubbed his face. His body felt heavy from yesterday's frustration at the workshop and the thoughts of the underground fights still weighed on him. He sat up, forcing himself to his feet, determined to push through the day.
As he slipped on his worn jacket, he noticed the silence. Normally, Sophie was already awake, either humming to herself or scribbling in her sketchbook before school. A frown tugged at his lips. Strange… she usually beats me up to breakfast.
He padded softly down the hall toward her room, planning to kiss her goodbye before heading out. Pushing the door open, he froze.
Sophie lay curled on her bed, the sheets tangled around her small frame. Her skin glistened with sweat, her breathing shallow and uneven. Her body trembled violently as if the chill of winter had crept into her bones.
"Sophie!" Jason's voice cracked as he rushed to her side. He pressed a hand to her forehead—heat burned through his palm. "God… you're burning up."
Her half-open eyes flickered weakly toward him. "B-Brother… I feel so cold…"
Panic punched him in the chest. He scrambled around her room, searching for the drugs he'd bought. Bottles scattered across the small wooden nightstand. He grabbed one, fumbling with the cap, and poured a dose into his palm. "Here, Sophie, you need this. Please… take it."
She tried, but her lips barely parted, the pill falling from her mouth. She coughed, choking on her own weakness. Jason cursed under his breath.
"Damn it! Come on, Sophie, stay with me." He rushed to the kitchen, boiled water, and returned with a steaming mug. Carefully, he tried again, pressing the rim to her lips. She swallowed a little but turned away, gagging.
Her skin burned hotter. Jason's heart raced. He grabbed a towel, dipped it in a bowl of hot water, and pressed it against her forehead. He rubbed her shoulders gently, whispering like his words could push the sickness away.
But then—
Ding!
A blue holographic screen blinked into existence before his eyes.
[SYSTEM ALERT: Patient's temperature — 104.9°F. Condition critical. Applied treatment ineffective.]
Jason's blood went cold. "What?!" He looked around as if someone else had spoken, though only the holographic letters glowed in the air.
[Warning: Hot compress ineffective. Patient condition worsening.]
His hands trembled. He changed tactics, swapping the hot towel for a cold one from the sink, desperately pressing it against her skin.
[Warning: Cold compress ineffective. Patient condition worsening.]
Jason's chest tightened. "Then what the hell do I do?!" he shouted, his voice breaking as Sophie whimpered beneath him. "Tell me, dammit! She's all I've got!"
The system didn't reply this time. The screen simply pulsed red, an unforgiving reminder that he was losing her.
Jason dropped the towel and cradled Sophie's hand in both of his. Her small fingers were clammy, twitching weakly. He kissed her knuckles, his eyes burning. "No, no, no… Sophie, don't do this to me. Please. You'll be fine. I'll fix this."
She tried to smile through her fever. "It's… okay, brother. You don't have to—"
"Don't you dare say it's okay!" he snapped, more at himself than her. His voice cracked, raw with fear. "You hear me? You're going to get better. I promised Mom I'd take care of you, and I'm not breaking that promise."
Her lips curved faintly, but her eyelids fluttered shut.
Jason's heart pounded. He didn't think—he acted. He scooped her frail body into his arms and carried her out to the living room. "Hold on, Sophie. Just hold on."
He laid her gently on the couch and grabbed his phone with shaking fingers. Dialing emergency, he barked into the receiver, "I need an ambulance! My little sister—she's burning with fever, she can't breathe properly, please hurry!"
They asked for the address. He gave it, pacing back and forth, whispering assurances to Sophie. "They're coming, sweetheart. You'll be okay. I promise you'll be okay."
Minutes dragged like hours. Jason knelt beside her, stroking her hair, whispering stories from their childhood just to keep her conscious. "Remember when we tried to fix that broken toaster together? You almost electrocuted me," he said, forcing a shaky laugh. "You're stronger than this, Sophie. You're tougher than me."
Her lips twitched, but her eyes stayed shut.
At last, the wail of sirens pierced the silence outside. Jason bolted to the door, waving frantically as two paramedics rushed in with a stretcher.
"Her temperature's critical," one muttered as they examined her. "We need to move now."
Jason followed them out, refusing to let go of her hand until they forced him to step aside so they could secure her. He climbed into the ambulance, his heart thundering in sync with the siren's scream as the vehicle tore through the streets.
"Will she be okay?" Jason's voice cracked.
The medic didn't look at him, focused on Sophie. "We'll stabilize her. But it'll depend on the treatment after admission. She's in bad shape."
Jason pressed his fists against his knees. "Do whatever it takes. I don't care how much it costs."
The medic finally glanced at him, pity in his eyes. "It will cost. A lot."
Jason's throat went dry. Money again. Always money.
When they reached the hospital, Sophie was rushed into the emergency ward. Jason followed until a nurse stopped him at the doors. "You can't come in. Please wait."
He sank into the chair outside, head in his hands, whispering prayers he hadn't uttered since childhood.
After what felt like forever, a doctor approached. His white coat flapped slightly as he stopped before Jason. "You're her brother?"
"Yes," Jason leapt up, desperate. "How is she?"
"She's stable now," the doctor said, his tone calm but firm. "But she'll need proper treatment and medication. It won't be cheap. Does she have any guardian other than you? Parents?"
Jason swallowed hard. "No. Just me."
The doctor sighed, as though he'd heard that too many times before. "Then you'll have to handle the bills. She needs continued care. Without it…" He didn't finish the sentence.
Jason clenched his fists. "I'll get the money. Whatever it takes."
The doctor studied him, perhaps doubting, then finally nodded. "Very well. We'll proceed, but you must bring payment by tomorrow. Understand?"
"Yes. Thank you," Jason whispered.
He walked out of the hospital with empty pockets but a heavy resolve. Every cent he had was gone, burned away by the cost of admission. But Sophie was alive—that was all that mattered.
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