week one hundred five | everyday

21 2 0
                                    

on monday i sat by abbie's bed and watched her sleep. she woke up later that evening and smiled at me.

"have they told you, mikey?"

i shook my head in response. "no, only you."


on tuesday my father and mother stopped by with flowers and pity. i could tell abbie didn't appreciate it, but she kept quiet until they left.

"did i ever tell you how much i hate pity, mikey?"


on wednesday abbie was given new bags of chemotherapy and radiation. her skin was rough and pale and she looked sickly.

"i wish i wasn't so sick, mikey." she cried.


on thursday my sister stopped by with pictures of their new twin boys. abbie tried to be happy, but i could see right through her.

"i wish i could've been there to meet them, rachel."

"it's okay, abbie. you need to get better."


on friday i spent the day with alex while rachel stayed with abbie. abbie told me she had a good day, but i knew she didn't.

"did i ever tell you how much i love your family, mikey?"


on saturday i wrote.

we're all in the same game; just different levels. dealing with the same hell; just different devils.


on sunday the doctor took me from the room and explained that abbie would need higher chemotherapy doses and a little more monitoring. before they changed her meds that evening i sat by her bedside and held her cold hand in my warm one.

"did i ever tell you how much i love you, abigail?"

she breathed in and smiled. "everyday."

light | m.c.Where stories live. Discover now