When The Music Stopped

It was raining hard against the glass of the hospital room. Marry sat upright on the edge of the stiff mattress, her gaze fixed blankly on the gray afternoon outside. A pale silk scarf was wrapped snugly around her head to hide the toll of the treatment, contrasting sharply against the bleached, oversized hospital gown she wore. I turned the handle slowly and pushed the door open. Her face softened, and a fragile, ghost-like smile touched her lips.

"Anna!" she whispered, her voice barely carrying across the room.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, my voice cracking slightly as I hurried over to sit on the edge of the mattress beside her, desperate to offer some comfort.

"I feel like ants are crawling underneath my skin," she said, her eyes hollow and distant, staring right through me. "How are you, Anna? How is college going?"

Silence hung heavily in the air between us. I swallowed the lump in my throat, utterly at a loss for words, terrified that any consolation I offered would sound hollow even to my own ears. "You're going to be fine, Marry, don't worry so much," I managed to say, forcing a brightness I didn't feel. "As soon as your treatment is finished, you'll come right back and we'll finish our graduation together."

The words tasted like ash. Marry had been forced to drop out of our paramedic program months ago. Her entire world had revolved around her studies, her dreams of working in radiology, and the relentless ambition she carried. But the harsh reality of the streets she lived on had taken a devastating toll, culminating in the aggressive cancer that now consumed her. She had been enduring grueling chemotherapy for two months, and the doctors' updates grew grim by the week; her body was giving up, mirroring her profound exhaustion and the complete absence of hope in her eyes. It was an unbearable weight for anyone to carry, let alone someone so young.

"It has been raining since morning," Marry murmured softly, turning her face back toward the window. "If the rain stops, I think I'll leave, too."

A cold dread pooled in my stomach. I gripped the edge of the blanket, barely holding back the tears burning the backs of my eyes. "Stop saying nonsense, Marry. You're going to be okay."

She let out a dry, fluttering laugh that lacked any true warmth. "I'm just messing with you, Anna."

"Did you manage to eat anything today?" I asked, trying to steer her away from the dark abyss.

"No. Everything tastes like mud and vomit," she replied, her shoulders slumping.

"Well, do you want me to go grab some warm soup or something? I can run down right now."

"No, it's fine, really," she protested weakly, closing her eyes as if the effort of speaking drained the last of her life force.

Despite her protests, I slipped out of the room and headed down to the staff cafeteria. The irony cut deep; I was currently doing my clinical internship in the very hospital where my best friend was fading away. We had spent countless late nights studying side-by-side, dreaming of the day we would step into the radiology department as professionals. Now, she was fighting a losing battle, utterly abandoned by the people who should have shielded her; her parents and her boyfriend had both walked away when the diagnosis became too inconvenient. I was all she had left. I had to stay strong, no matter how much breaking apart I felt on the inside.

The cafeteria worker handed me the small container of warm, unseasoned chicken soup. As I took the box, a sudden quiet caught my attention. I glanced out the cafeteria window and saw that the heavy downpour had finally ceased, leaving the courtyard slick and glistening under a pale, break-through sky.

Marry's voice echoed with terrifying clarity in my mind: If the rain stops, I'll leave too.

Panic surged through my chest. I dropped the pretense of calm and sprinted down the hallway, the cardboard container clutched tightly in my hands, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. I threw open the door to her ward, breathless and desperate.

"No," I gasped, the word tearing out of my throat as my hands flew up to cover my face.

The warm soup slipped from my fingers, shattering against the cold floor and splashing across the tiles in a messy sprawl. Marry was lying there in the bed, her face serene, touched by the faintest, peaceful smile.

She was no more.