holding on • jenzie

18 ⇝ it hurts to think

» Your struggles develop your strengths. «

「 In which Mackenzie learns of her position. 」

Dedicated to: devotedmendes x

A/N ~ This is really long but make sure to read it slowly so you understand it <3

POV: Mackenzie Ziegler
DATE: 26 January 2026

•••

The streets of LA are considerably emptied out more at six in the morning. There were people, of course there were people, but as I drove all was silent. Cars drifted casually through lanes, no traffic to slow them down. Overhead, the sky burned through cloudless skies and shone brightly over California. It cast long, spidery shadows because of the palm trees, and I sighed in the beauty of it all. It's a shame I'm going to a place most people dread– the hospital.

Pain. Pain is what describes my world now. A lot of it. I have pains in my joints; my elbows and ankles, I have pounding headaches that can't resolve themselves, I have hot and cold flushes, and no matter how much water I drink, my bladder doesn't seem to want to empty itself. I need a  medical diagnosis– arthritis doesn't cause this much carnage. It doesn't wreck lives like whats happening to me.

Parking my car takes a while due to the fact that nobody seems to be abiding by the lines. Nobody seems to actually care if the white strips are there to help organise the carpark. Many must be in such a hurry to get seen, they don't even have time to park properly. I sigh sadly. What a world to live in.

I pay for two hours parking and start walking the cracked steps up to the front doors. Today I'm not dressed to impress, I'm dressed to blend in. I'm dressed so that no one will recognize me; dark leggings cling to my legs and a soft maroon hoodie covers my shape and identity. My hair roams free, being lifted by the wind that raises goosebumps on my skin. Makeup was the least of my worries, and the faint spattering of freckles on my nose and cheeks can be seen because I wear no concealer, no cover up. It's nice to be dressed as a normal girl, but I know that normal girls don't get excruciating headaches and fevers. That's not normal at all.

At the front desk, I get directed towards a triage nurse and walk over to her with shaky legs and fingers. My heart pumps double time, and I start to sweat.

I take a leathery seat and it creaks and groans when it bears my weight. A lady whos name tag boasts the name of Sharon gives me a smile, asking how I am. She's familiar, and looks like someone I know. I can't put my finger on it.

"Okay." I state, weakly smiling back at her as I drum my fingers on the desk between us. A nervous habit. Recognition dawns across her face when she focuses her full attention on me, but she's practiced and smooths her expression over professionally.

"Great. We'll start with your name." She encourages, rifling through a few papers before finding one that she wants. It's headed up with the words NEW PATIENT ADMISSION. She clicks her pen, pausing at the name space.

"Mackenzie Frances Ziegler." I tell her quietly and she nods, then assuring me that all of my details will be kept confidential. I manage a delicate smile before rattling off my address, phone numbers and some more personal information.

Finally, the much awaited questions come. "Why are you here today, and what are your symptoms?"

"I have arthritis, but it's more than that. I get these horrible headaches, where I can't even move or shut my eyes. I can hardly talk." I start.