Michaela Walker.
Michaela woke up in the morning to the voice of Dr. Sherman. The older man was standing over her bed, looking glum as ever.
His troubled look startled her, feeling her heart throbbing down her throat, and her head was spinning, inundated by the not-so-comforting look Dr. Sherman had on.
“What’s wrong?”
Her voice sounded shaken in her ears, dreading what he came to her room to say. Dr. Sherman formed a rigid smile; his eyes seemed unfocused, trained on a spot bellow her chest. Michaela, in return, glanced at her swollen belly, finding nothing was wrong with her.
She repeated her question, and the man, as if his legs failed him, took a seat on the bed. “Y-You- are you okay?”
Dr. Sherman sounded unsure as if he was questioning everything around him, troubling her even
