Cancer

1. Die Together

They tell you, you're not alone. But the truth is, you are. We all know it, but none of us really wants to face the truth. We already know now, we can't handle the truth, so we choose to ignore the fact, that we all die alone. Here I sit. Dressed in white. In a hospital bed. My parents and doctor are talking about my condition on the other side of that door. I'm not really listening, as you can tell. I'm in a whole other world. Facing the truth, dealing with it. I realized it. I do believe in love, but I believe in failure too. And what I hear now, there's not really hope for me. My parents though, won't realize it. They keep telling me, we can get through this together, but sooner or later they have to accept their daughter is dying.

"You will be alright, honey, I promise." My dad says and takes my hand as we drive home from the hospital. I look into his eyes. Don't promise anything, you cannot keep, dad... I think to myself. Of course I'm not telling him. I don't want to hurt my mom and dad. I just smile weak and nod slowly. He turns away and let's go of my hand. "We love you." My mom says. She's driving the car. I look out the window. "I love you too." I say quiet. My eyes catches a bird in the sky. Flying high. Suddenly another bird joins it. They fly together and end up sitting on a stick in a tree. "Cute." I say to myself, and smile wry. Dad squeezes my hand tight. And I'm back in reality again. "You coming?" He asks as he opens my door so I can get out. I just nod. I get out of the car and head to my room. I really don't want to deal with more today, I just want to be alone.
As I sit in my room reading my favorite book of all time, I hear my parents talk. I put down the book, and tip toe to the door and listen closely. It sounds like, they are whispering to each other, though I can still hear them. "You know, we can't do anything about it, Brian! She's getting worse!" it's my mom talking. She sounds like she's tearing up. "Take it easy, Amanda. Come here." he calms her down. "Brian, she's going to die sooner or later." Everything goes quiet and I lay back down in my bed. I just stare at my phone for a while. The time passes by and I start getting tired. Turn off my phone at 11 pm, and my eyes slowly close. I fall asleep.

I wake up in the early morning. I use to sleep longer time. It's not even sunrise. I look at the clock on my phone. 4 am. Nice work, Lou! I think to myself as I get out of bed. I decide to go find some food in the kitchen. "What are you doing up?" a voice suddenly asks me. I turn to see mom sitting in the armchair. "I'm hungry." I say and pull some yoghurt out of the fridge and pour it in a bowl. I sit down next to my mom. She smiles weak at me, and points at my bowl. "You know, you have to eat more than yoghurt." I nod as the spoon leaves my mouth. "Yeah, but I just really like yoghurt, though." I smile back. I turn on the TV and start watching cartoons. I am a big child; let's just get that on the right spot. "You seem okay?" My mom asks me. I nod slowly, smiling back at her. "I heard you and dad talk about me last night." I state. She faces the floor, scratching the back of her neck worried. "Mom, I know I am dying, and the fact that it's getting worse. You don't have to hide anything, it would make everything worse. Please, just tell me." I speak up. A door swings open and dad walks into the room. "I don't like secrets." I say honest. I set down the bowl and start fumbling with my hands. "We just don't want you to be worried." Mom says. That makes me laugh. "That's ridiculous!" I cut them. "Actually, I'm kind of pissed off, you know. It's MY life, I know I can't get better and the fact I'm going to..." My mom cuts me off. "Please, honey, don't do this." She begs me. "Sooner or later, you have to face the truth, mom!" I yell, while smiling. What the hell is wrong with me? "You, watch your mouth!" my dad yells at me. "I AM THE DYING ONE. I SHOULDN'T CARE! I will be gone, before you know." I yell back. I go all quiet and look at the floor in rage. They do not say anything. They are shocked. All because I am being honest. I leave the room in rage and get in my room again. I grab a pencil and start writing. That always helps me, when I'm upset.
As the hours pass, my parents call me for a talk, but I refuse to leave my room. "I'm tired." Is my answer. It all just ends with me falling asleep in my bed again.