Saving Bambi (Harry Styles fan-fiction)

Chapter one: This is getting out of hand.

● Bambi’s pov. ●

I kicked my heels against the frame of the bed impatiently, staring at the clock against the wall. “Okay Miss June, your Chemotherapy is finally done for the week. You’re are just going to have you to stay here for a few more hours to let it work it’s way into your system. If you have any questions the nurses at the front desk can help- you know the drill.” Dr Richards smiled tapping his pen against his clipboard.

“Thanks doc.” I winked at the sixty-year-old man before he uncomfortably turned, leaving the room.

“Why do you have to do that to him?” My mum sighed, leaning further back in her chair.

“I’m just trying to lighten the mood and he is quite the hottie mum,” I laughed until a few coughs cut my sentence short.

“Are you alright? Should I get the doctor back in?” My mum rushed out, hurrying to my side. I held my palm up to her, motioning for her to stop and surrender.

“It was just a cough not a heart attack, mum. I’m fine.” I grumbled pulling my water out of my school bag and taking a sip. She sat down on the bed next to me, patting my hair down like I was some kind of breakable furniture. “Go to work mum- I’ll see you at seven thirty.” I grumbled, forcing her a cheesy smile. In which she returned with a smile full of sympathy. Ugh, cut the crap.

She kissed my temple before wrapping her right arm around me, squeezing my shoulder lightly. “Before you know it you’ll be completely cured Bambs, Leukaemia will finally be a thing of the past for the June family.” She said hopefully just for my sake. “Anyway, see you tonight. We need to pick up Mackenzie on our way home from her friends house.” She looked at me for a moment more before standing up to grab her bag.

“Love you.” She called to me at the door.

After she left I looked around my empty ward. There was no one here to talk to, not one book to read, not one thing to keep me preoccupied. That’s what they told me I have to do, keep myself preoccupied- distract myself with something so I don’t think too much. I rolled my eyes, thinking over the shitty advice they’ve told me. They’re always trying to shield me from what’s going on, trying to get me not to think about it. I think it’s cruel, making me believe it’s not really happening when it most definitely is.

I try to look lightly at this whole situation, I guess, but it’s hard to be cheery when there’s a shit load of abnormal cells multiplying at a fast rate inside of me. I mean, who the hell do they think they are. I swivelled myself on the bed to face the window, running my fingers through my hair and massaging my scalp lightly. I just want to go home.

- - -

I opened and closed the cupboards throughout the empty ward I had been left in, searching for something to keep me from pulling my brains apart. I found a pair of white towel patient slippers, dropping them to the floor to untie my converse. After sliding one shoe and sock off, my kitten size bladder was about to empty it’s contents onto the polished floors.

Slipping my naked foot into one of the slippers, I hastily unconnected my drip from the connecter imbedded in my arm and stood up abruptly, feeling unnatural in one slipper and one solid shoe.

I shuffled my feet in opposite shoes to the closet bathroom down the hall, pulling my sleeves down over the plastic tubes in my arm. Pushing open the door to the crapper was a challenge with one arm, and my weak bones pretty much made it impossible to accomplish it. But what can I say- I’m a natural. I walked into the bathroom covered in mirrors and tiles brighter than my pupils could handle, and my tired eyes found themselves in the reflection. Small bags were forming darkly underneath my bottom eyelashes, making me want to hide in a closet and sleep.