Leave A Message || Gallavich

Day one: the beginning of the end

You know the stories that start with the main character that has a shit life, and then at the end, their life is better than everyone elses'? Yeah, well, that's not going to happen. This is my life and my story. Now, I can't tell you how this is going to end, but I can say two things:

• My life is still going to be shit.

•You will not like the ending.

Keep reading if you want, I won't stop you, but you've been warned. We'll start at the the beginning of the end of my life.

My name is Ian Gallagher and I'm 17 years old. I have a disease called NMDA-receptor encephalitis, basically brain inflammation caused by antibodies. So far, I've been in the hospital for almost a year and my body has rejected all sorts of treatments the doctors give me. I'm going to die soon. In 5 days to be exact.

This all started a long time ago, doctors say I could have been having symptoms since I was 15 but there's no way of knowing because of my Bipolar disorder. Symptoms of NMDA-receptor encephalitis are sort of the same as psychiatric disorders, causing hallucinations, voices, memory loss and so on...

I was diagnosed with Bipolar disorder when I was 15, I take after my mother. A few months after I was diagnosed, I became extremely tired all the time. My medication didn't work, no matter how many times my psychiatrist upped my dosage.

Nobody suspected any serious health condition. The only thing they suspected was me hiding and not taking my pills. The nerve, right? Now, I'm spending my highschool years in the hospital, on the verge of death.

Do I believe that this could have been avoided if doctors believed me? Absolutely. Do I blame everybody for this? Yes.

But, I've come to terms with my condition and I think I'm ready to die. My family is poor enough as it is, do they really need my medical bills piled on top of everything?

I love my family. They could have let me die ages ago, but I'm still here. I think it might really be my time now. There's no saving me anymore.

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"Ian, are you awake?"

"No." I mumble.

"Breakfast. It was pancakes today, but I pushed and got you eggs instead." Lucille says, placing a tray on the table beside me.

Lucille is a nurse at the hospital. She's my favorite out of the million different ones I've had. She's really pretty, too. Not that it matters to me.

"Thank you." I give her my best smile, she deserves it.

"You're hanging in there, right? Not dead yet?" She asks.

"Not dead yet." I answer.

With a smile, she pats my head and grabs my tray from dinner. "Also, there aren't any other rooms available, so you might have a guest pretty soon. Excited?"

"Yeah, another 80 year old man or 5 year old child. Thrilled." I joke.

"See you later, Ian. Why don't you try getting out of bed today?" She says before leaving the room.

I roll my eyes. "Why don't you try getting out of bed today?" I mock. I do love Lucille, but she can be just as ignorant as the others sometimes. What's the point of getting out of bed when I can lay here until my death?

Just before I eat my breakfast, the door opens again. This time, it isn't just Lucille, it's Lucille and a boy with raven hair. His face is bloody and bruised so I can't make out any other features.

"Ian, this is Mikhailo. And, he's 18. Close to your age." Lucille says with a wink.

I give a false smile and watch as Mikhailo sits on the bed besides me. He doesn't say anything, although, I'm not even sure if he can. Lucille hands him a towel and an icepack before going to get the doctor.

"Did you win?" I ask.

"Win what?"

When I hear his voice for the first time, it's oddly familiar but I ignore it. "The fight. You did get into a fight, right?"

"Oh, yeah. If you count being kicked out of your own house winning then, I guess I did." He says with a soft chuckle.

"I'm Ian." I say.

"Mickey Milkovich."

My eyes open wide when I hear his full name. Mickey Milkovich? No wonder he seemed so familiar. We went to school together and lived in the same neighborhood. We weren't friends or anything, in fact, we were pretty much the opposite. "How's Mandy?" I ask.

"How do you know---" Mickey starts but stops once he realizes. "Oh shit, Ian gallagher? I thought you died or something."

"Not yet." I laugh.

"What are you doing here?" He asks.

"Waiting for death to consume me. What about you, Terry run out of beers?"

"Basically. He just hates me. He'll take any reason to beat me half to death." Mickey says. "But um... are you really dying?"

I take a moment of silence before responding. "Yes." Is all I say until adding, "But I've been dead for practically all my life, so what'll be different?"

What I say is a joke but Mickey doesn't laugh. I don't even laugh myself. "Um... I only have a couple of days." I say. The doctors didn't tell me this but I know when my body is giving up. I've given myself an estimate to make it all a little easier.

"I'm really sorry."

Sorry? Mickey Milkovich, the guy that's bullied me all my life is... Sorry?

"It's whatever. Everyone dies." I say, finally eating a bite of my breakfast.

Mickey doesn't say anything else after this, he just holds the icepack to his bloody face with an expression I can't completely make out. This is the longest I've ever been in his presence before he's punched me or insulted me. I guess Life gets weirder when you're dying.

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