dear ana ❥ h.s.

phone calls

My heart is beating at 1000BPM in my hollow chest, aching to be set free from the cage it's concealed in. My lungs are being compressed, pulled and pushed to their breaking point. I feel my chest begin to sting.

Tears that were once burning my eyes are now rolling down my cheeks and onto my shirt. I couldn't leave my feelings inside, the pain beginning to take over my body. I had no control over anything, like the Devil was using me as his personal puppet for entertainment. Only, it wasn't entertaining at all. It hurt, my stomach was in knots, my legs were wobbly, and my head was spinning around and around even more. I felt like hurling, unleashing the minimal food I'd actually consumed in the past 24 hours.

My doctor was on the phone, still speaking. I wasn't listening, although I was certainly hearing him. This couldn't be happening, it WASN'T happening. Could it be?

My guilt quickly took pains place, flooding my mind with the sickening pinch. My head throbbed; my crying was giving me a headache.

"Ana, are you still there?" Dr. Arnold asks on the other end, words laced with remorse and guilt; sadness of being the one to break it to me. I nodded, remembering he couldn't see my nod.

"Yeah, yeah... I'm here." I stumble, running my hands under my heavy eyes.

I couldn't think of what I was going to do, how I was even going to tell Harry. What was going to happen?

"What do I do?" I ask suddenly, voice becoming serious, shaky breaths coming to a halt.

He stays silent for a long time, breath being the only thing I can audibly hear from the other end. He finally speaks, filling my ear with bullshit. I didn't believe any of the things he was trying to convince me were the right thing to do.

He was telling me to do the chemo, that I needed radiation. Surgery was the best route for me, that I needed the tumor removed. While these were all good ideas, he didn't sound confident in their success. And one thing was inevitable:

I was going to die.

—

Days passed, and obviously, I didn't tell Harry. I had no idea what I would even tell him, how I would bring the topic up, or what he would even say or do. It was terrifying.

The days that passed were a bit awkward, I always felt like Harry was going to ask me about it like he somehow knew. He couldn't know, I hadn't told him and the hospital had a confidentiality policy.

"I'm home!" Harry chimes from downstairs, the door slamming behind him.

I stand up from the bed, ironing out my dress with my palms and sprinting down the stairs. I ran to him instantly, practically tackling him as he falls back into the door.

"Hey Curly!" I smile, hugging him tightly as he picks me up and twirls me.

"Hey Angel, I missed you." he says, kissing my cheek.

"I missed you too." I whisper, holding him close. I wanted to be with him as much as possible, seeing as things weren't looking good for me.

"What were you thinking for dinner?" he asks, pulling away from the hug.

"It's taco Tuesday, home dawg." I scrunch my nose, giggling. He loved tacos as much as I did, I think that's honestly the reason I loved him so much b

"Mmm, sounds delicious. Let's do it." he nods, kissing my forehead. "I'll go get ready."

I didn't know what I was going to do, you know, about the whole cancer thing. There was literally no loophole, unless you counted death. And that's not a good one, if you ask me. Maybe I would tell him at dinner.

"You ready to get your taco on, homeslice?" he asks, putting his coat on and grabbing the keys. I laugh at him, putting my coat on and following him to the car.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are when you laugh?" He starts the car, looking over at me in the passengers seat.

"I don't believe you have, Sir." I say softly, cheeks turning a dark shade of red.

"Well, you're absolutely gorgeous when you laugh." he says, pulling out of the driveway and driving to the taco place.

"Even when I snort?"

"Even when you snort."

//

Only nine parts left.