Once Upon A Time... The End

Narration by Benedict:

Once upon a time, there was a girl. She wasn't a princess, she wasn't rich or known by anyone besides the friends and family she had. She didn't have a prince to sweep her off her feet or dance at a ball; she wasn't famous. She didn't eat with a silver spoon and when she drank, it was not from a goblet, but a plastic cup. She didn't have fancy clothes and she didn't wear ruby or glass slippers. She didn't live in a fairytale full of fairy godmothers and castles and magic and wishes.

She was completely ordinary, unassuming, and, as many have said before, if you'd passed her in the street or sat next to her on the tube, you would never have known her story... never known that she was different from everyone else. She was just a girl: long blond hair, full lips, blue-grey eyes, tall for her age, but still... she was just a girl. Her usual attire were a pair of jeans and a vintage Black Sabbath t-shirt, probably with a colourful scarf and and Converse sneakers.

She lived in a small town just outside of Florence, South Carolina. Too small to be on a map, too unimportant to mention. Which was how she liked it. She didn't mind not being noticed, she didn't mind being normal.

She was about to go enter high school when everything changed for her.

Before, she had lived a fairly mundane life: went to school, got fantastic marks and was favoured by her professors; had friends and family that loved and cared about her. If you had asked her, she would have told you she was happy, perfectly content. And she would not have been lying.

One day, there came a very unexpected bump in the smooth road of this girl's life. She was sick, the girl. 'terminally ill', the doctor said.

Her life had not been the same after that. Her parents, before, were very carefree, fun people who had given her the exact same freedom they had wished for themselves at her age. But after the doctor's appointment, they became afraid, walking on eggshells around her, being too careful, smothering their daughter, which was the last thing she wanted. And their overbearing desires began to push her away.

After a while, the pressure from her parents was too much. They began to want things for her, treatments and 'precautions' that she didn't care for. In her eyes, there was no need to delay the inevitable with medications that would only leave her too doped up to remember.

So she left.

At fourteen years of age, Olivia Brooks left her small town in America for London, England, where her father's sister, Sharon, her estranged aunt resided. She was taken in and cared for by Sharon, who'd not seen her for years, while her parents, not knowing where their daughter had gone, were worried sick.

I have known Olivia for quite a while now. Almost eight years have we been good friends, a very unlikely pair, indeed, but I suppose the saying 'opposites attract' is true--it would definitely explain our relationship. More than twenty years my junior and she is one of the most important people in my life, one of my best friends. I did not think that the summer I met her, when she was just eight, was going to be an extraordinary one. It was just a summer to me then. I'd been on holiday, my acting career nowhere near where it was today, not as hectic or crammed, and I wanted to catch up with Sharon, Olivia's aunt, a friend from Uni.

It was the day I'd meet Sharon's niece, a little blond thing that had big, bright blue eyes and a very quiet spirit. Before I knew it, before I could even say 'hello', I'd fallen under her spell.

I'd never forget that day: 7th of July 2005.

Eight years is a long while to be friends with someone, there are very few whom I have kept up with for so long. I've seen Olivia grow up into the young woman she is today and I don't think I've met someone so young with such a positive outlook on life--living their lives to the fullest, every day a new adventure.

I only wish that that her story, her adventures did not have go end so quickly. That the journey didn't have to be so short. That she'd had more time. Time to live, and learn. Time to make mistakes and then correct them; time to travel the world, see all the places she wanted to see. I wish she had time to grow into a woman... fall in love. I wished I could go to her wedding and sit in the front row, right next to her mother, father and aunt, crying my eyes out like the enormous corn ball I am. I wished I had the chance to see her children, all of them with her bright eyes, full of intelligence. I wish...

I'm thirty-seven years of age and there are things I've not even had the chance to do or accomplish yet. To know that she's only fifteen years old, and was told that she wouldn't live past sixteen, is more than unfair. There isn't a day that goes by that doesn't end with wishing I could take her place, or find a cure for her, and for all the other young people in the world with leukemia. For the people that love them, who are suffering, burdened with the same harsh reality I am.

I would never wish it on anyone. Never.

As I sit here, in this quiet home in Wales, I write. I am writing the story. The story of this gorgeous girl, who, in every way, was perfectly ordinary, but also, unimaginably different. She changed my life. Still is, actually.

I didn't plan on writing it all out, but I figured it was about time. At first, I thought I would wrote this for Olivia herself, so she could read it. But then I thought, Why not go public?

So I'm sharing this story with you, along with the rest of the world. I was bit skeptical of the idea at first. I'm not a very good writer, so I believed that while the story itself might be moving and heart-warming in its nature, the journey to get to the end would be... unbearable for the unfortunate readers. But, I did choose this... no editors, no collaborators; just me, a pen, and paper.

So, I suppose that's it, then. I won't waste anymore time with this introduction.

My name is Benedict Cumberbatch. I am an actor, and I am thirty-seven years old. But this is not my story. It's hers.

This is the story of Olivia Brooks.

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