Suicidal Lover

Pushing open the door to Lisa's ward, Betty's eyes fell upon her sister's frail form lying motionless in the hospital bed. Tubes and wires connected to various machines were a stark reminder of the battle Lisa was fighting. Betty's eyes welled up with tears as she approached her sister's bedside.

"Lisa, I'm here. It's me, Betty," she whispered, taking her sister's cold, pale hand in her own.

Lisa's eyelids fluttered weakly, and she managed a faint smile. "Betty," she whispered hoarsely, her voice barely audible. "I'm so glad you're here."

Tears streamed down Betty's cheeks as she tried to be strong for her sister. "I missed you, Lisa. We're going to get through this together."

Lisa had been admitted to the hospital two months ago after the fire accident that happened at their house. Betty had taken on the role of a caregiver since their parents passed away two months ago from the same fire accident that made Lisa end up in the hospital. Betty was exempted from the accident because she no longer lived with her parents at the time the accident occurred.

Since the time Lisa was admitted to the hospital, Betty had been working tirelessly to support both of them and ensure that Lisa received the best medical care possible. The hospital bills had been mounting, and Betty's savings had been depleted. She had even borrowed money from friends and sold personal belongings to cover the expenses, but it was still not enough.

As Betty settled into the chair beside Lisa's bed, the door to the room swung open, and a doctor entered, his face grave and solemn. It was Dr. Anderson, a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair.

"Miss Betty," he began, his voice gentle but filled with a weight that made Betty's heart sink further, "I need to talk to you about Lisa's treatment."