Frisson

Chapter 1

*Eliza's POV*

Breathe in.  Breathe out.  Deep breaths, Liza, deep breaths.

Water.  Sip.  Breathe in.  Pill.  Swallow.  Breathe out.

Grimace.

That’s the regimen, my regimen.  Every day, the same way, for the last four years.  Each morning begins with a breakfast of cold cereal and medical poison to whet the appetite.  I’m trying to watch my figure, you know?

That was a pretty bad joke, wasn’t it?  Don’t expect me to apologize though; even the bad jokes play their part in getting me through the day.  And some days, I need all the help I can get when the taste of paint, sulfur, and fish oil hit the back of my throat all at once and it takes every last bit of fo years’ worth of self-control to keep it down.  I still fail some days and have to find a sink or trashcan in easy reach or give the floor a new organic rug.  Okay, that had to make you at least cringe or maybe smirk if you have the same sort of humour as me.  All kidding aside, those are the hardest days because then I have to try and force down another one of those vile pills, and this time, the poison will sit on an empty stomach.

But today is not such a day.  No.  Today is going to be a good day.  A great day.  It must be, because after weeks and weeks and weeks of waiting, dreaming, and imagining, the time has finally come and the concert is tonight.  The One Direction concert.

Now I know what you’re probably thinking.  Something along the lines of: Seriously?  You’re almost eighteen years old and you still want to see that glorified little British boy band in concert?

Yes, yes I do.

And let me tell you, I feel zero shame.  Why is there such a huge taboo for boy bands anyway?  Just because they’re young, attractive, and British doesn’t make them automatically less talented.  What were the Beatles for crying out loud?  Or the Rolling Stones?  Young.  British.  Boy bands.  Besides, George Harrison was every bit as young as Harry Styles was when he started performing with the Beatles before they left for Hamburg.  Go ahead and google it, I dare you.  I mean, I’ll grant you the fact that One Direction’s early songs weren’t necessarily award-winning for their lyrics or musicality, but that’s not all that goes into a song, is it?  It’s the way that they sing their songs that gives them such a response from their fans.  It’s the sincerity and meaning that they put into their albums that give them presence.  That’s why I like them.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not a die-hard fan.  Trust me when I say that I realize that there are some crazies in this fandom, but I appreciate the basis of its concept: improving self-esteem and taking pride in who you are.  I like that, even though my real genre is actually indie folk rock and alternative music like Mumford and Sons, Of Monsters and Men, Young the Giant, and Florence and the Machine.  But then again, I also happen to have a very good reason why these boys and their music mean so much to me personally. 

In 2010, the same year that they were competing on the X Factor, I was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia.  Now, please don’t get all sad and pitying on me.  I don’t do pity.  At all.  It’s a fact of my life, and pity won’t change that.  Besides, it’s depressing and awkward.  Still, that was obviously an extremely difficult year for me as well as each year since then…but, thankfully, I had something to keep my mind off of my new condition for an hour every week.

See, I’d always watched the X Factor religiously each season, but the newest edition was scheduled to begin the same time that I was to start chemotherapy.  Bit of a problem, right?  Well luckily, the nurses at the hospital were kind enough to record the new episodes each week so that when I came in for treatment, I could watch the show while I was recuperating.  All throughout those long weeks, the only time I could ever truly forget about the cancer was when I was watching those five adorable idiots sing and “dance” on stage.