catch fire ✎ lrh

first

my withering feet trembled as i stepped out of the doctor's office.

calum looked up at me from his chair as we exchanged distraught glances. "it's bad, isn't it..."

he wheeled himself closer to me so we could hug, as i choked out the words "it's back". because it was back, and more malicious, malignant and lethal than ever before.

it was thirty two years ago when i first got diagnosed with breast cancer. i remember it well. i'd never really been one to check my breasts for tumours, but my boobs had been starting to hurt and the left one had gotten increasingly big. so i checked. i went to the doctor and then i was in radiotherapy and then it was spreading and here i am now, at eighty two years of age, with a suffering body and a budget on my time left here on earth.

i just want my time to end. i'm not happy and neither is poor calum.

i wheeled calum home. we were both in absolute silence as we entered the door to our tiny bungalow in a rougher area of town; he then told me he was tired and so i put him down to nap for a while.

i didn't know what to do so i cried.

i cried and cried.

my father always told me to cry all my sadness out, scrunch it all up into a ball and throw it as far as i can manage. i've thrown countless balls over the years. this time i can't quite find the courage to be happy. there's not much point.

after a long few minutes, i decided to do some spring cleaning. i had been meaning to sort the closet out for a good few years now.

in the closet there was a tiny box, sitting on the desk we were meant to dispose of 10 years ago. i smiled softly - i remembered that box! It was filled with... music posters... pictures of band members... more stuff i'd prefer to keep to myself.

when i was eighteen, i was obsessed with music. obsessed. i used to spend nights on end crying over music. i think we called it... fan girl? something like that?

i don't know, but whatever it was, it was worth it. music would make me feel alive and, disproving my parents' opinions, i still had a successful life following my emotional breakdowns as a teenager.

me and my friends used to cry together on some funny web page called something i can't quite recall. fumble? tumble?

i used to write stories on some orange icon thing as well.

they were a good few years. everyone cried over slightly different things; for me, it was music - more specifically, a jazz musician who went by the name mr. hemmings.

that boy was something talented, I tell you. he used to play the sax like ringing a bell and everyone in the community had dreams of becoming his future wife. unfortunately, he passed away at a young age in a car accident.

i speak of mr. hemmings fondly, but there was always something... off about him.

*

I was awoken from my daydream by calum calling me.
"sky, i need to pee!"

i sighed. "i'm coming, cal, I'm coming."

but as I was making my way into our bedroom, i slipped over, landing awkwardly on my spine.

i screamed - what was i to do? calum couldn't walk! and now i couldn't either!

things began to get blurry. grey formed around my eyes. i felt a flicker of hope inside me. finally; could this be the end?

--
i hope you like this so far... this is dedicated to my best friend dakota who runs this account with me :)
-beth ❤️