If I Leave This World (~Harry Styles~)

Chapter 1

[UPDATE: Hey guys! I was just reading this story back and I realized the first few chapters may be a little boring and I apologize for that! I just wanted Payton to have solid character development so if you are one of those fanfic readers who wants the love interest to appear within the first paragraph, then I apologize because that is not the case in this story! However, things pick up pretty fast after the first few chapters so I hope you stay with me! I'm really working hard on this story :) Thanks for reading! xoxox]

It's really funny how, each day, you cross paths with so many other individuals, so many other people. You don't know their story and they don't know yours. As my mother always says, "we all carry our own cross in life." That is true...but no one sees them. We can put a simple smile on our faces and no one will ever know the weight we carry, the pain we feel. But...does anyone really care? Or are we too wrapped up in our own problems to even consider the burden of others?

My name is Payton Moore. I am seventeen years old. When I was 11, I was diagnosed with leukemia. I remember the day like it was yesterday. The symptoms were always there, but I chose to ignore them. So did my parents. Fever, chills, fatigue, weakness, migraines, you name it. I always thought that these were normal feelings that everyone got. They were, of course, but I turned a blind eye to the fact that the extent of my symptoms called for serious medical attention. Finally, after another feverish night filled with tears, pain and shivers, I went to the hospital to get tested. The rest is history. They found the leukemia in my blood, and since that day, a part of me has been numb. I smile each day and put on a brave face for my friends and family, but inside I feel empty. There is no eloquent way to put it.

Empty.

I have good days and I have bad days. Everyone does. I'm not some kind of emotionless robot who is unable to feel happiness. No, I can be happy. But, in the deepest, most intimate part of my soul, there is a hole that not even all of the "Get Well" cards, teddy bears and balloons can heal.

The hardest part was losing my hair.

I had beautiful hair. Sure, maybe my face is pretty average looking, but my hair was gorgeous. It was long, wavy, and chestnut brown. The doctors warned me of the side effects of chemo, hair loss being one of them. I put on a brave face. "It'll grow back, it's just hair", I thought. But nothing, absolutely nothing, could prepare me for the amount of emotional scarring that I experienced when that first chunk of hair fell off of my head. I think I screamed, I can't exactly remember. I know I cried. I remember my mother holding me while I sat trembling in her arms, watching as one of the most important parts of my femininity fell to the ground. Needless to say, the rest of my hair was gone within a week. I wasn't confident enough to go through my days with a bald head, so I bought wigs. I still wear them every day. My favorite one is a light brown one that hits just below my chest.

Sometimes I think about dying. The doctors gave me a 75% chance of survival, which is pretty good. I remember when I was about 13 or 14, I went through this really dark phase where all I could think about was death. Leaving this world. It terrified me. I didn't want to die. I still don't want to die, but I've let acceptance into my life, aquiring one of those "enjoy things while they last" and "whatever happens, happens" kind of attitudes. I believe in the fight. I believe in survival. Every day is a battle for me, and every day is truly painful, but I am a fighter, and I am strong.

I have to be.