Unethical by Jennifer Blackwood

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    “Very good.” You could almost hear the purr in his voice as he praised her.
    Blake didn’t bother to raise his hand. “What if someone’s in a lot of pain? Like terminal cancer or something. I think that’s justifiable. Better for the whole family.”
    Every muscle in my body tensed.
    He did not just go there. The blood coursing through my veins seared every nerve ending, and my emotional stability took a nosedive. I didn’t even notice the pencil in my hand until it snapped in half and dropped to the ground. I looked down, focusing on the yellow dust embedded in my skin. A piece of lead stuck out of the middle of my palm. This should hurt, right? But it was numb compared to the gaping hole where my heart used to be.
    I shifted in my seat and glared at him, three seats to my right. He turned his head, and his lips carved into a frown.
    Oh, heck no. Did he—yes, he felt bad for me.
    Did he really think he could make up for his shit by sticking up for my dad? He didn’t know how wrong he was. How wrong my dad was for taking my mother’s life.
    He should have thought about that when he ditched me for Ryan when I needed him most. At least then we’d be on the same page.
    I squelched the impulse to yell this at him, seeing as that might be a little awkward in front of forty other people, but I sent mental morning stars flying his way.
    “I don’t know about that,” Nasally Voice Girl chimed in. “What if the family doesn’t get closure from this? They might regret this decision later.”
    “And let the person suffer? That’s cruel,” said Blake.
    This needed to stop. I couldn’t handle this. Blake had no idea what he was talking about. He didn’t know jack shit when it came to my mom.
    “There are other methods to kill yourself that don’t involve a doctor.” The whole class gasped at Nasally Voice Girl’s response.
    Spit went down the wrong tube as I sharply inhaled. I tried to take a deep breath, but couldn’t stop coughing. Dots swarmed in my field of vision, and that panicky, I’m going to freakin’ pass out in the middle of class, I hope I don’t pee myself feeling sent goose bumps rippling over my skin. A few breaths made it past my spazzed-out windpipe, and my lungs got just enough air so I didn’t faint.
    I wheezed all the way up the aisle, which I swear grew in length as I made my way to the exit. I ignored the stares as I walked past each row. Twelve rows to be exact. The clanging metal of the push bar resonated in the auditorium as I crashed through the door.
    This couldn’t be happening. I wasn’t ready for this. How could I ever be a doctor if I couldn’t handle a simple discussion about something my father did? I’d let him win if I chose another career path, and I’d worked too damn hard to give this up.
    Through blurred tears, I made my way to the bathroom on the second floor, shoving my phone into my pocket as I climbed the stairs. I splashed water on my face and gripped both sides of the sink. The droplets beaded off my face and landed on the porcelain sink in tiny taps. My arms shook as I put my whole weight onto the sink.
    A blotchy-cheeked version of myself stared back at me in the mirror. “Get it together. You’re better than this.”
    No way in hell I’d go back in that classroom today. Jules would get my stuff. I just needed to text her.
    I wedged my hand in my pocket and it took three attempts to navigate through the tight denim until it hit my phone. The pocket had a death grip on my hand as I extracted the phone, leaving red marks on my knuckles. Seriously, girl jeans needed bigger pockets.
    That’ s right. Focus on jeans and red knuckles, not on Dad. Not on your asshole ex who doesn ’t know what the hell he’s talking about.
    My sweaty palms made it impossible to get a good grip on my phone and it shot out of my hand and dropped to the cement ground. The battery popped out upon impact, skidding a few feet away. I let out an