Heart of fire: Hoax

Chapter 1: Girl born

"MAMA!" I cried out as I saw her vomit blood.

A few days after my fifth birthday, my Mum became a stranger to me. I never really saw her like this. She stopped eating at supper, saying she didn't feel like eating. She stopped going to the park that we'd always go to every day no matter the weather. She went to the washroom, where I heard her scream out in pain and gag. At night she'd scream in pain from cramps. She would faint every once in a while, hitting her head straight to the floor. I would try to catch her when she fell, only to hurt her and hurt myself. I once woke up to the sight of a pool of blood. She cut her right ear while she fell. I stood there, frozen as I saw a trail of blood from her head to her neck. We didn't go to the hospital. We just couldn't with no money. I spent the night cleaning blood as my mum tried to bandage her ear. I was living in a horror movie on replay.

Hearing her scream in pain, or the amount of times she would go and vomit loudly. It was like watching someone die and being brought back to life all over again, just for the same ending, bringing the pain and sorrow over and over again. Mum's eyes stopped shining, her touch felt hard, and her smile faded. She just became grey. After she came out of the bathroom, I saw traces of blood on the toilet and sink. I kept on asking her what was wrong. But she'll just reply 'I'm ok. Just a bit tired.' I asked dad what was wrong with mum but he didn't know. I wondered why he didn't care or showed the slightest bit of worry on his face. He didn't know entirely that Mum was acting like this. He went to her in the room, asking what was wrong. She also doesn't know why. For the next few weeks, I skipped school, to be with her. She argued with me to go, but I wouldn't budge . I wanted to be with her. And only her.

I slept near her, in case she started vomiting or got cramps. I kept on hugging her, softly, cause I was so scared to death. Dad would sleep on the far left of the bed. I would hear his snores and the whole room would be intoxicated from the odour of alcohol from him. Even though it was such a long time ago - about eleven years ago - I still have a vivid memory of those days. I wish I didn't.

We went to the hospital a month later. It seems that the hospital was grieving for her, with its gloomy walls, and dried-up plants and even the receptionist seemed dull, with his black circles, wrinkles and grey skin, almost like he was fed up with his job. We were asked to go to a family doctor. He had a Russian accent, with his hair neatly combed backwards, and small tattoos on his body but seemed young, around his mid-twenties. A week later, the doctor told us that Mum was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer. "We need to do a colonoscopy. We don't know how you got this, we'll have to do some tests." For thirty minutes or an hour, Mum would go to do scans. It was terrifying. The room was small and white, with a blue light, dimly shining. It was creepy staying there alone. I prayed for Mum to be alright

"Is mum going to be ok?" I asked. I was sitting on a chair next to my mum tapping my fingers on my legs. I was so scared. My breath was caught in my throat. And so was my heart. Every part of me wanted to collapse onto the floor in fear. Losing her is like losing a limb. I didn't know what I could do.

"We hope. I promise my team will do our best. She's in good hands." I hugged her. I can't explain how I felt. It was like my world was ending. The only way of describing it is as if I'm dying with her.

"We'll need to do Chemotherapy and Intravenous to help you."

"How much would it cost?" mum questioned weakly.

"We have a programme in the hospital which can help you pay for your needs. You don't need to worry, miss."

"And you are sure?"

"Yes, miss." That's when hell started, well not for me (I guess). Mum had to go through hours of chemotherapy. She had to shave her head. She wasn't the same happy mum I knew. She became much thinner that you could see her ribs. She looked more dead than alive. She did Intravenous Chemotherapy, meaning she has to insert an IV into her veins. Every two days we come to the hospital to do her chemo sessions. We would walk toward the hospital since dad would be busy and there weren't any taxis, meaning twenty minutes of intense pain. I would hold her hand and help her walk, as she clutches her stomach and closes her eyes, as if she's sleepwalking. During her sessions, she wouldn't do anything, just staring blankly at the ceiling and patiently waiting to go home. She even wouldn't sleep. The only thing she asked for was countless amounts of water. I felt somewhere, even with this medical help, she wasn't getting better. If I have to be honest, I think she was getting worse. I knew it. I just felt it. Mum wouldn't get better and dad wasn't there when she went through the sessions. During these weeks, he wasn't home. I really wondered where he was.