Her Purpose | ✓

Chapter Seven

I blinked awake, the harsh morning light filtering through my curtains. For a blissful moment, I forgot. Then reality came crashing back. I'm dying. Six months left, give or take. The thought settled over me like a lead blanket, and all I wanted was to burrow back under my duvet and sleep until... well, forever.

I grabbed my phone, squinting at the too-bright screen. 8 AM. Why on earth was I up this early? Groaning, I rolled over, ready to drift off again. But then my alarm blared, startling me fully awake. I fumbled to shut it off, catching the sight of the note I'd set.

Day out with Nathan today.

"Bugger," I muttered, memories of agreeing to his outing flooding back. Part of me wanted to text Nathan and beg to reschedule. But I'd already ignored him for a week after my diagnosis. I couldn't do that to him again.

Dragging myself out of bed, I shuffled to the mirror. The girl staring back looks like a mess. My bedhead was sticking up in all directions, dark circles were under my eyes, and my skin was pale. I'd always been slim, but now I looked unhealthily skinny. Dying didn't do wonders for the appetite, as it turns out.

I stumbled into the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face in a vain attempt to look less like death warmed over. The irony wasn't lost on me. I had a quick brush of my teeth, and I headed back to my room to get dressed.

My wardrobe seemed to mock me. Half my clothes didn't fit right anymore; I was losing weight faster than I could keep up. After far too much deliberation, I settled on a blue sundress. It hung a bit loose, but it would have to do.

As I tugged it on, my mind wandered to Monday—the start of my palliative chemo. Every Monday after that, too, until... well, until I died, I supposed. The thought made my stomach churn.

I grabbed my hairbrush from the dresser and quickly ran it through my tangled locks. It was thinner than before, and I winched as the brush caught on a particularly stubborn knot. Finally, I managed to smooth it down into something presentable.

I wanted to crawl back into bed, pull the covers over my head, and pretend the world didn't exist. But I'd made a promise to Nathan. And if I only had six months left, I reckoned I should try to keep the few promises I had left to fulfil.

I slipped on a pair of comfy sandals, wincing as I caught sight of my bony ankles. Shaking the thought, I crept downstairs, careful not to wake anyone. Mum and Dad were probably still asleep, and Meri could sleep through an earthquake.

The smell of coffee hit me as I reached the bottom of the stairs. Weird. I poked my head into the kitchen, surprised to see Mum hunched over a steaming mug at the table.

"You're up early," she said, looking just as startled to see me.

I shrugged. "Not by choice. Nathan's coming today, remember?"

"Ah, right," Mum nodded, sipping her coffee. "I'd forgotten about that."

"Where's Dad?" I asked, grabbing a glass of water. My stomach churned at the thought of food.