If You Loved Me, Why'd You Leave Me?

Chapter 1

*Flashback*

My legs were pulled up to my chest as I sat there, cold and sick, waiting for the doctor to call us in. I had been scanned, tested and interrogated, and now it was a waiting game - waiting to see what was wrong with me, why my body all of a sudden hated me and why all of a sudden my chest felt like it was exploding and being eaten from the inside out. I really hoped it was nothing serious; I was starting college soon, and I didn't need some sort of sickness ruining my chances of finding friends. No one liked a sick person.

"Mr Howell?" The doctor called and my feet touched the ground slowly. I had pins and needles, causing me to hobble to where the curly blonde haired man stood with a stack of papers in his hands. I looked into his eyes and tried to read them - you could tell whether it was serious or not by the way they looked at you, and Dr Deyes had a touch of sorrow and pity in those tired green eyes. I shivered as I took my seat, swinging my legs back and forth underneath the chair. I was quite tall, yes, but I hated it when my feet touched the ground whilst sitting. Having really long legs made it uncomfortable. "Right then, Daniel, where do I start?"

"What's wrong with me?" I asked straight away, feeling my hands begin to shake. Dr Deyes definitely looked sorrowful, like he didn't want to be the one to tell me this news. "Is it bad or good?"

"Actually, it's very bad. The worst disease you can have, and it can kill." The doctor swallowed as my heart did a loop in my chest and my throat went dry. "It's called Coronary Artery Disease; I'm sorry."

"You- You're telling me... I'm dying?" I asked, feeling my lower jaw begin to tremble as it did when I got upset. What he was saying couldn't be true; I was a happy, healthy young man with a whole future ahead of me and many friends, with more to come when I start college. And now none of that mattered, because in the next few weeks I'll be dead. "How long do I have?"

"Six to seven weeks at the most." The doctor replied, rummaging through the papers as I stared at the wall, trying to process the information. "Here," he told me, holding out a sheet of paper with a load of words on it. "You'll need to sign a few things, just for confirmation -"

I took the paper and a pen from his desk and read over the writing. As I read though, it became blurry and it wasn't until I blinked that I realised I was crying. I quickly wiped away the tears, hating myself for crying in front of someone I barely knew. I signed the paper, only to recieve another which I signed and then another which I did the same to, all whilst I tried my hardest not to throw a tantrum.

"Thank you, Dan. Take this to your mother, come back in three days for a checkup. Don't forget your pills." Dr Deyes handed me a bottle of shiny red pills, which I took and clutched to my failure of a heart. I turned and walked out of the room, aware that I'd have to look into the eyes of people with a cold and watch as they moan and complain whilst I curse them for being so weak. They didn't know what it was like, and, to be honest, neither did I.

*end of flashback*

Mum was calling me down for tea; I could hear her from my bedroom with the closed door and my earphones plugged in, Fall Out Boy blasting into my ears. Maybe she had been shouting for a while? Oh well, I thought as I paused the music and dragged myself out of bed on my two unsteady feet. Part of the reason why I never want out anymore was because there was no one to got out with. All my friends, upon hearing I was dying, had left me, probably scared thay I would infect them too. But I knew that that was just an excuse to leave me; they had never liked me anyway, and I knew that now.

"There you are." Mum sighed, bringing out my plate of what looked like spaghetti and meatballs. "Your favourite, I'm surprised you couldn't smell it." Mum was a kind, gentle person and could never stay mad at me for too long. Most people would think she felt sorry for me, but she had always been this way - always treating me as if I was her very reason for living. That was why I was terrified of the day I die. It would destroy her completely, and I could never wish that upon my mum.