supermarket flowers • lesy

6.6

Jesy's POV

The next few times I saw Leigh-Anne she had a blue bandana wrapped around her head and a smile that seemed to fade a little more each time. She had oxygen canulas with her on every escapade and the only hope she seemed to hang onto was the fact that I'd promise to go see her.

Sometimes she'd smile when pretty purple flowers were handed to her and other times she wouldn't look at me at all. But I didn't mind. I'd stay in her tv room all day in silence just to make sure she was still alive. And sometimes she was in a hospital bed with machines hooked up to her because she was trying. God, she was trying.

She lost all of her cloud looking hair. It took four full months now for it to be taken from her. In her eyes she was just ugly. The many phone calls I received with a sobbing sweet girl on the other end talking about how much she felt less than was heart breaking. If anyone would have agreed with putting Leigh-Anne and 'ugly' in the same sentence I'd probably shoot them.

Today was one of those days. Silent. We were sat in her house.

I skipped school to go over to Leigh-Anne's place. She seemed more distressed than she ever has been before. The purple around her lips and the constant blood spitting adventures were concerning.

I stare at the girl sitting by her windowsill. Her body was slumped in one position.

"Leigh-Anne, would you like some lunch?" I try to break the silence.

Mumbles in return.

"Babe, I can't hear you when you talk like that."

"I said I already ate." It was an obvious lie.

"Alright. Maybe I can just stay here until dinner time."

She stayed in the same position, looking out of the window.

My own mood seemed to dip down. It's torturous to watch somebody who deserves so much more receive hell.

"Do you wanna watch a movie?" I try something else.

"Jesy, I'm in too much pain to move right now."

"May I give you some medication?"

"I already had some. I'm going to overdose if I take anymore." Her voice sounded so soft.

"Should I take you to bed? It'll be a lot more comfortable than sitting on the windowsill."

"I'm in too much pain to move." She repeated.

"But I'll carry you. I know you're not any more comfortable sitting there."

"I don't wanna be alone in the dark."

"What if I lay down next to you?"

"Can you carry me to the sofa?" She asks.

It worried me more now. She only had to take one step to sit down on the couch. If she was in that much pain it'd result in a small ambulance in her driveway by the end of the night.

"Of course. Should I go ahead and put on a movie then?"

She holds her arms out to wrap around my neck. This wasn't an unusual occurrence. More times than not I'd be helping her get to one place to another. But never has she needed help to walk one or two steps.

"Leigh-Anne?"

"Hm?" She let go of me as I sat her back on the soft cushions.

"You okay?"

"That's a really stupid question."

I sigh, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have."

"Can you put White Chicks on?"