I tiptoe down the hall. I have to be careful not to step on any creaky boards. I don’t want to wake anyone. Mom and Dad and my three-year-old sister, Cammileta, are sleeping in the room across from mine.

I stop in front of Zoren’s empty room. He died two years ago, when he was only six, from Danto, a disease that no one knows the cause or cure of. Danto is most common in children and young adults. I continue down the hall. I pass Katie and Jordan’s room. It too lays empty. Katie died three years ago when she and Jordan were eight. Jordan died six weeks later. They both died from the Danto disease. I stop again outside Jessie’s room. I stare into the darkness. This house is full of empty rooms. Jessie died from the Danto disease last year, nine months after Zoren died. He was twelve.

Finally, I bring myself to move on again. I come to David’s room and go in. He’s asleep on his bed. His skin is so pail, it looks like solid ice. His black hair is wet from sweat, as are his clothes and blankets. He has a very high fever, and he’s too weak to move. David has the Danto disease and is dying. It’s not fair! David is only four. His twin, Daniel, died of Danto three months after his birth and David has had it ever since then. His suffering has lasted so long. I run my fingers through his hair. “I’ll find a cure, David. I promise.”

He doesn’t move or make a sound. I don’t even hear him breathing. “David?” I shake him gently. “David?” I check his pulse.
Nothing.
“No! David! No!” A big tear drips down my cheek. No! I’m losing my whole family to death by Danto –to a disease that can’t be cured. I only have one sibling left. Will I lose her too? We just found out last week that she has the Danto disease. How long will Cammileta live? Will I be able to find a cure for Danto before she dies? I cry, and cry. Mom and Dad wake up and join in the mourning. This has to be hard for them. David is the sixth child they’ve lost in four years.
I spend day after day researching the Danto disease. I don’t want to lose another family member because of it. For two years I research, until I myself fall ill. Danto has taken its hold on me. I lay in bed for almost a year. I have hot and cold flashes and a high fever. I still research, but I have to have help. Even though Cammileta has had Danto for longer than me, she can still move around a little. I’m glad, and I hope I can find a cure for her before I die.
Finally, after exactly a year of having the Danto disease, I find there is someone who found a cure. “Take Cammileta to him,” I tell my parents. “Please. I have to know that she was cured.”
“You’ll both be cured,” Mom says.
“Promise she will live. Promise Cammileta will be cured.”
“Call him, Rodger.”
Dad gets up and leaves the room. Ten minutes later he returns. “The Danto doctor is coming. He will cure both Cammileta and Hope.”
In the morning the Danto doctor arrives. “Cure Cammileta first,” I insist. She’s been sick longer. And I found him for her not for me. The Danto doctor cures Cammileta; then comes over to cure me as well. However, the disease has something else in mind. At least Cammileta was cured and will live. But for me, it is over.