#Chapter 46 Her Will Be Done

I ran to the bathroom and locked myself in one of the stalls. Crouching beside the toilet, I cried and dry-heaved. My hands shook uncontrollably, and my breaths came in and out raggedly.

I knew I had to do something about my diagnosis, but what? Telling anyone about it was out of the question. Going back to the doctor was useless, too; it was terminal, after all.

Yet there was so much to do regarding my…death. Funeral arrangements. A will.

There just wasn’t enough time—but I had an idea of where to start.

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