I gently pressed my fingers against it.
Winced.
Did I do it wrong?
I grabbed the instruction pamphlet Dr. Beaumont had given me. Read through the steps again, my hands shaking.
Step 1: Wash your hands.
I’d done that.
Step 2: Clean injection site with alcohol wipe.
I’d done that too.
Step 3: Pinch skin and insert needle at 90-degree angle.
I thought I’d done that. But what if the angle was wrong? What if I’d hit something I wasn’t supposed to?
Step 4: Inject medication slowly.
I’d gone slow. I was sure I’d gone slow.
Step 5: Remove needle and apply pressure.
I’d done that.
So why did it look like this?
I scrolled through the side effects section.
Mild redness or swelling at injection site is normal.
But this didn’t feel mild.
This felt like my body was rejecting the medication. Like I was allergic. Like I’d fucked up something that was supposed to be simple, and now I was going to lose the contract before it even started.
My chest tightened.
I stood, paced to the window, then back to the bed.
The house was quiet. Mama had gone to bed an hour ago. I could hear her TV playing low through the wall—Criminal Mindsreruns, like always.
I sat back down.
Stared at my phone.
I had Amai’s number. For emergencies.
Is this an emergency?
I didn’t know.
Maybe it was nothing. Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe by tomorrow morning it would be fine, and I’d feel stupid for panicking.
But what if it wasn’t fine?
What if this was the beginning of something serious, and I waited too long to say anything?
