Grand Favourite Ambys 2024
𝑯𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒈𝒊𝒇𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒔.
Elizabeth Reid learned, at seventeen, that she was going to die. Diagnosed with terminal cancer, she's faced with a question that no one should have to answer.
How...
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I wake up, and for a moment, everything feels normal. The sun's streaming through my curtains, painting my room in a soft, golden glow. I stretch, yawning, and then it hits me like a punch to the gut.
Oh yeah. I'm dying.
The realisation crashes over me, and suddenly I can't breathe. My stomach churns, and I bolt out of bed, stumbling to the bathroom. I barely make it in time before I'm hunched over the toilet, retching. There's not much to bring up — I haven't been eating well lately. When I'm done, I sit back on the cold tile floor, trembling.
I want to curl up right here and disappear. But I force myself to stand, rinse my mouth, and shuffle back to my room. My bed looks so inviting. All I want is to crawl under the covers and pretend none of this is happening. Maybe if I sleep long enough, I'll wake up and find out it was all just a bad dream.
I grab my phone from the nightstand, squinting at the too-bright screen. It's only 8 AM. God, why am I awake so early? Then I see the notifications, and my heart drops.
47 missed calls. Over 100 text messages. All from Nathan.
My fingers shake as I scroll through them.
"Beth, call me."
"Are you okay?"
"Please, just let me know you're alright."
The last one makes my throat tighten.
"My parents told me... are you okay?"
He knows. Nathan knows I have cancer. He knows I'm dying.
I toss my phone aside and flop back onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. There's a photo taped up there — me and Nathan at our high school prom. We're both grinning like idiots, his arm around my waist, my head on his shoulder. We look so happy. So normal.
I've never been good at making friends. Always too awkward, too shy, too... something. Nathan's the opposite. He could charm a rock if he tried. Sometimes, I wonder why he's stuck by me all these years when he could easily hang out with the popular crowd.
But he has. He's always been there through every awkward phase, bad day, and stupid fight. My best friend. My only friend, if I'm being honest.
I smile at the memory of that night and then immediately feel guilty. How can I smile about anything right now?
With a sigh, I force myself out of bed again. I throw on my ratty old dressing gown — the fuzzy pink one Nathan always teases me about — and head downstairs. The smell of toast wafts up the stairs, making my stomach growl. For a second, I actually feel hungry. Then I remember how sick I was earlier, and the feeling fades.
In the kitchen, Mum and Dad are already up. Mum's at the cooker, flipping pancakes. Dad's got his nose buried in the newspaper, a half-empty mug of coffee at his elbow. They both look up when I come in, and I wouldn't say I like the concern I see in their eyes.
