Terrorcest one shots

(part 3) remembrance

A/N: writing about this really helps me, and having you guys has helped me immensely too I am so grateful for each and every one of you. also warning this is very very long, at least for me.

Jackson, Wyoming, 1987, 9:54 PM

Nikki Sixx-

I gently pull Mari's sleeping body a little closer, snuggling her as I start to drift off. This has been one of the few times I've seen her peacefully sleeping in the last couple of months. Usually, it's a restless, painful sleep. She hurts so badly, even in a time of peace, and that should tell you quite a bit. 

Someone knocks at the door. "Come in." I say, trying not to wake her up, and disturb the sleep.

It's Kayla, dragging the IV pump behind her, with a bag of liquid. I internally cringe, even just seeing it. Sure I put hard drugs in my body, but these, these are chemicals being put into a small girl. She gives me a fake smile. I know she feels just as bad about all of this as we do. Mari's still too young to understand why she needs to still have treatment. I know she would rather not have treatment, but, she needs it for right now.

"Nikki... can I pull her away from you for a second?" She asks quietly. 

I nod, hopping off the bed and going to stand next to Kayla. She gently rolls Mari onto her back, and lifts her shirt up. As she rolls Mari over, several strands of hair are left in the spot where she had laid her head, right under my arm. "Do we need to wake her up?" I ask, trying to brush the hair away. 

"Yeah, I need to access her port, so it's best if we do." 

I gently take Mari's hand, and whisper her name until she wakes up. "Kayla has to access the port." I explain to her.

"Yes, just try to stay very still..." Kayla adds, pulling out an alcohol wipe and swabbing the area. She slowly begins to pull the sticky (no idea what it's actually called, doctors and nurses just use these so they sound less scary. needless to say, not very effective.) off.

She barely even whimpers, but digs her nails into my hand. Kayla gets the pump going, and we both situate Mari, surrounded by supportive pillows, and layering blankets over her to keep her warm, as she starts shivering. I think of laying back down with her, but she looks so comfortable, and she's already fast asleep.

Vince-

Should a parent ever have to decide where their child dies?

No. No, not at all. My daughter should outlive me, and she should have a happy and healthy life. Instead, she's been subjected more pain than I will ever endure in my lifetime. She's had to go through so much, and yet, she still doesn't win the battle.

What does winning this battle entail? Even if she was put into remission by the aggressive chemo, she would still need to finish out the chemo, she would still need scans, and with her genetic mutations, she has a high chance of relapse. We've already been through bone marrow transplants, radiation, chemo, a clinical treatment or two, maybe it's just time? I don't think I could let her go through cancer treatment yet again. I just wish she didn't have to be in so much pain, and be so young. I shouldn't have to bury my daughter. I shouldn't have to decide wether she dies at home, in pain, or in the hospital, surrounded by horrible machines pumping poison into her body.

"Daddy...daddy...daddy?" Mari asks, as she pushes into my room with her IV.

"Mmm?" I ask, unwrapping my arms from Sharise's body and sitting up, brought back into the present moment as she climbs up into my bed, being careful not to get her little tube caught up.

"We need to shave my hair." She whispers, laying next to me.

"We do?" I look at her head and internally grimace. Her hair had been growing back pretty steadily since the first time she lost it, and I was hoping it wouldn't happen again. The new chemo drugs though...they're taking her hair again. I was trying to deny it at first, but if Mari tells me it's time, it's time.