The Story
It's a full moon tonight. He shines his light through the cracks in the blinds, giving the room a yellow tint. I can't sleep. I haven't slept for two years, ever since I learned I had cancer. Since then my nights have been full of nurse visits and nightmares, with some blank space in between.
My mother sleeps on the pull out couch by the window. She stirs and pulls the thin blanket the nurses gave farther up. She used to stay up with me in the beginning worrying away in the rocking chair in the corner. I would wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare and she would take me in her arms and rock me back in the forth. Now she sleeps on the uncomfortable couch, tossing and turning every now and then.
I look around the room at all the "Get Well" balloons and stuffed animals I've gotten from friends and family. Only one stuffed animal has really gotten me through all this, and that's Quincy. He's a regular brown teddy bear with soft fur and a dark green bow tie. I got him from my Aunt Lara who lives in New York.
She's almost like a second mother to me, giving me all kinds of advice and being there when my mother couldn't during my treatment. She only visits once in awhile since she lives and works in New York. That's why she gave me Quincy, so she's always with me.
I give Quincy a big hug and lay my head down on my pillow to try to sleep again. It's a pain to do so, I have to move slowly so the sore pain doesn't act up again. Once comfortable, somewhat, I close my eyes and let my dreams take over.
~~~
I'm thrown into a hallway barely lit by the flickering florescent lights on the ceiling. The hallway looks like one from the hospital and is lined with doors like in the hospital as well. I run to them one by one trying to open them, but they don't budge, and the glass window on them are blacked out.
A door appears at the end of the hallway behind me and opens with a sinister creak, light emanating from the narrow glass window. I slowly and cautiously walk toward it, bracing myself for what's to come. I walk through the door into my hospital room.
I'm sleeping on the bed in a sort of fetal position, Quincy squished into my chest and drool pooling from the corner of my mouth. I smile, remembering when this happened, when I actually got a full night of deep sleep.
"Are you sure there's nothing you can do?"
I jump at the sudden noise and turn around toward to find my mother with my doctor standing at the door. My mother stands stiff as a board, her shoulders up and her arms wrapped around herself. I notice her face is twisted in worry, and my stomach drops.
"Yes, I'm sure," my doctor says, and puts his hand on my mothers arm, "I'm sorry. If there's anything we can do to make it easier-"
"How 'bout you make my daughter well again," My mother says.
I stir in the bed and they look over, falling silent for a moment. My mother shakes her head and puts her face in her hands.
"I just don't understand how this could have happened," she says in a more hushed voice, "She was doing so well. This can't happen to her." She sniffs and a tear slides down her cheek. She takes her hands away and looks over at me on the bed. "My baby, my poor baby. She's just so young."
"I give my condolences," my doctor says.
"Shut up," my mother scolds, her face full of anger. My doctor takes a step back in fear of the growing rage in my mother. "I know you care, but I don't want any of that crap. Not right now."
"Okay, I'll let you be. Think about what I said," my doctor says, and then leaves the room.
My mother takes a deep breath and looks over at me on the bed. She walks over and sits on the edge of the bed. I move closer and watch her as she places the back of her hand on my cheek.
