Chapter 237

• Finn's POV
• I hated clinics. It stank of antiseptic and rotting blood, a paradox that clung to my tongue like acid eating through rot. Dr. Jafar's shadow pooled beneath the flickering fluorescents as he blocked the hallway - a vulture in a stained lab coat, wings spread to guard carrion.
• "His lungs collapse twice daily now," the doctor said, teeth yellow as old piano keys. "The machines breathe for him. You understand? No more speeches about sensative topics here."