Holding On

The Sooner People

It hurt; I’m not going to lie. But the needle hurt much less than the boys’ faces. Harry’s eyes, once a beautiful emerald colour, are now lifeless, ringed by dark circles. I haven’t seen Liam for a week, since he ran, crying out of my room. He just couldn’t take it. The absence of a smile on Louis’ face is like a sea without water. And lately, I’ve been watching many waterless oceans. Then, there’s Zayn. He’s taken it the worst. It kills me inside to see my best mate sitting there, eyes glazed over, wet cheeks, turned down lips. “Do you need anything?” asks Harry from behind me. I roll over slowly and carefully, ignoring the pain that shoots through every part of me like tiny, sharp icicles. “I’m okay, thanks,” I whisper, almost inaudibly. “Are you sure, because I’m going to the shops anyway,” he persists. “Harry, please. It isn’t good for you to be here.” The boys have been here with me through everything, no matter how much pain it causes them. They tell me they’re fine, that they’re unfazed, but I can see it in their eyes. It isn’t just the thought of my sickness, either. It’s the haunted way I look. The chemo has run me down and beaten me, but I still have all the reason in the world to thank it. It killed the cancer cells, sure, but it was slowly killing parts of me too - starting with my heart. It isn’t so much the pain that surges through my body, or the fact that I’m too weak to do anything for myself, or even the boys faces. It’s the guilt. I feel as if I don’t hold on hard enough, I might slip away, and that would leave a lot of people in trouble. My mum wouldn’t have any income. Greg wouldn’t have anyone to play footy with. And the thing is, I feel like if I slip, it’ll be my fault. Each time I’m drugged up on chemo, I feel my grip weaken. The thing that no one around me understands is that I don’t want to hold onto life anymore. If I was the only one who’d be affected by my dying, I would’ve already let go. Sometimes, I’m asleep, but I’m aware of it. In my sleep, I control whether to die. So for instance if I so wished, the next time I go to sleep, I could will myself to die as easily as when you move a muscle. I can also pull myself back to life if I’ve willed myself to die, but the few times I’ve lost my consciousness accidentally, it was all up to the nurses to save me. I’ve tried death a few times before. It’s much better than life. I would lie there, feeling the pain as I weakly inhaled and exhaled. It would be bright with the light from overhead which seeped through my eyelids. Then when I let myself fall, it was the opposite. It was Dark, painless, warm. But as much as I enjoyed the bliss, I knew I couldn’t stay. So if someone were to ask me if I’m scared to die, my answer would be no. I’m looking forward to the day with excitement.