Chapter One
I was sick, everyone knew it, my parents had tried to come up with the money for my treatments, but the price had only continued to increase, leaving us drowning in debt.
Sitting in the cold, sterile room of the doctor’s office, a light shiver raked through my body as the doctor poked and prodded at my frail form.
After several grunts of displeasure, the doctor left the room, allowing the nurse to draw my blood. We didn’t speak as she pricked my arm with the needle, I stared at the floor allowing her to do her job in peace.
I sat in silence once the nurse left my room; my mother was too busy at work to be able to take me to this appointment. I didn’t blame her; not only did we desperately need the money, but every time I peered into her blue orbs, I could see a desperate plea in them.
I knew I was a burden to them; I would often times hear her sobs late at night when she assumed everyone was asleep.
One night I had gotten the courage to sneak down the hallway and peer into the living room. She was curled on the couch with a photo album full of my baby pictures. A photo of me was clutched tightly in her hand as tears streamed down her slim face.
Startled, I slightly jump as the doctor strode into the room; his brows were furrowed and his lips were stretched into a thin line. I already knew what he was going to say before he even spoke.
Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, he opened his laptop before he spoke, “I’m sorry, Ms. Carter, it seems the cancer has progressed. There are various treatments that we can attempt, but there is no guarantee it will work.”
His voice seemed distant, as if he had removed himself from our conversation. Swallowing the thickened saliva that coated my mouth. My mother’s sobs danced around my mind, reminding me of the pain I caused my parents simply by living.
“If I stop the treatments, how much longer will I have left?” I regretted the question as soon as it left my mouth. I knew my parents loved me, but I felt tired. I was in pain daily, dark circles sat heavy under my eyes, and each week I seemed to weigh less and less.
“At this rate, if we can’t find a solution, then you will only have six months left to live.” He didn’t meet my eyes as he dropped this new revolution. I had assumed I would at least have a year.
He continued to scroll through his laptop, analyzing the numerous test results that permanently marked my medical record.
Tears stung my eyes as I thoroughly thought over my decision. I doubted anyone could save me; we have been trying different medications for years. Nothing ever worked, and everything seemed to cost more each time they upped my dosage or switched my prescription.
“I don’t want to proceed with further treatment.” The words burned my throat as they left my mouth; I knew this was the right choice. Perhaps my parents could finally pay off their debt and start over once I was gone.
Knowing without a shadow of a doubt this was the right decision, I couldn’t help but think of all the things I would miss. I mourned all the missed opportunities that I would never have.
“Are you sure this is what you really want?” The doctor questioned with a raised brow, finally lifting his eyes from the glowing screen in front of him.
Shaking my head, I couldn’t bring myself to speak. “Alright, the nurse will be in shortly to help you go over some paperwork.”
As he sat up from his seat, his shoulders slightly sagged as if he was relieved to be done with me. He knew that nothing could save me now, and I would just have to accept my fate with dignity. The nurse arrived in the room carrying a large stack of papers.
The next hour I spent filling out all the proper paperwork. Walking out of the doctor’s office, I wrapped my coat around my body, hugging myself in an attempt to keep warm against the harsh wind that whipped my hair around my face wildly.
It was December; dirty snow covered the sidewalk, adding to the gloomy atmosphere. Walking along the familiar route to the bus station, I kept my eyes focused on the ground, lost in thought.
The idea of death circled around my mind. Would it hurt? Could it really be more painful than what I felt daily?
As if on cue, a bout of nausea washed over me. Gripping my stomach, I rushed over towards a patch of dead grass. Falling to my knees, I continued to hurl up the contents in my stomach. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I glanced around the street, hoping that no one had seen me.
Thankfully the streets were empty. Standing to my feet, I walk over towards the bus bench.
Sitting down, I fish my phone out of my pocket; several messages lit up my screen, bringing a fresh set of tears to my eyes.
My heart lurched as I opened Liam’s message. We had started out as childhood friends, but when my illness cut me off and forced me to quit school, sealing myself away from the outside world, he had been there for me. We had begun dating about a year ago. I hated the idea of fading from existence, never seeing him again, but I knew there was nothing I could do.
′Hey babe, how did your appointment go?′
The question was simple, but it broke the dam. Sucking in ragged breaths, my fingers hovered over the touchpad. No matter how hard I tried, my mind refused to form a coherent sentence that would answer his question, so instead I switched off my phone as the bus came to a stop.
Stepping onto the quiet bus, I made my way to an empty seat. The bus ride didn’t last long as it pulled to the familiar stop.
Leaving the bus, I head towards the small apartment complex. Walking up several flights of stairs, I didn’t allow my shoulders to relax until I had made it safely inside the cramped apartment.
Plopping down onto the couch, I curl up into the same position I had caught my mother in not too long ago. My body shook as sobs echoed through the room. Taking out three sheets of paper, I began to write letters to my family. Once I was finished with expressing all my emotions onto paper, I fished an envelope out of the kitchen drawers.
Taking my letters, I hid them in my room. I was sure when I died my parents would find them, and hopefully it would give them some comfort; that’s all I could really hope for after all.
