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 do you leave a mark on a wo...
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My eyes felt like they'd been glued shut. It took all my strength to pry them open, and when I did, the harsh hospital lights made me wince. I blinked a few times, trying to get my bearings.
The first thing I saw was Mum, slumped in a chair next to my bed. She looked knackered, with dark circles under her eyes and her hair all over the place. She hadn't noticed I was awake yet, too busy staring at a book in her lap.
Then it all came flooding back.
One memory kept popping up, clearer than the rest - Nathan's voice, all quiet and serious, asking my dad if he could marry me.
At first, I thought I must've dreamt it. But the more I thought about it, the more real it felt. The way Nathan's voice shook, the shock in Dad's voice when he answered - it was too vivid to be just my imagination.
I tried to work out how I felt about it. Marriage. It seemed so... grown-up. So final. We were only seventeen. Nathan should be worrying about his A-levels and what uni to apply to, not wedding rings and 'till death do us part'.
But then again, most seventeen-year-olds weren't staring death in the face like I was.
That thought sent a shiver down my spine.
Was that why Nathan wanted to get married? Because I was dying? Did he feel like he had to, like it was something he should do for his dying girlfriend?
No, that wasn't fair. I knew Nathan better than that. If he'd asked, it was because he meant it. Because he loved me.
Mum shifted in her chair, and I suddenly realised how much I needed her. I tried to speak, to get her attention, but my throat felt like sandpaper. All that came out was a pathetic little croak.
It was enough, though. Mum's head snapped up, her eyes going wide when she saw me looking at her.
"Beth! Oh, darling," she gasped, dropping her book and grabbing my hand. "You're awake. How are you feeling?"
I swallowed painfully, trying to get enough spit in my mouth to speak. "Water," I managed to rasp out.
"Of course, of course," Mum said, reaching for a cup on the bedside table. She held the straw to my lips, and I sipped gratefully. The cool water felt amazing on my parched throat, even though swallowing still hurt.
As I drank, I spotted Nathan asleep in another chair, his head at an angle that was bound to give him a crick in his neck when he woke up. He looked as tired as Mum, his clothes all rumpled and his hair a right mess.
"How long?" I asked, my voice a bit stronger now.
Mum's face fell a bit. "You've been in and out for about a month, love. This is the most with it you've been in weeks."
A month? No way. I tried to remember, but everything was just a blur of pain and confusion.
