Take This To Heart || ImmortalFox

4. Still Breathing.

"Tell me that it's worth it because I'm doing all I can to fight it. And I've never been this scared, and my moment's finally here.

Time's racing, please slow down. I got to find my way out. I'm hopeless, but hoping, my lungs won't fail me now.

Because I'm still breathing."

---

Aleks' Point of View

I often dreamed of rather horrible things. Maybe it was just my cancer speaking for me. Disease can turn you crazy. Considering the things that wandered in my dreams now, I should be waking up in a mental institution instead of a Cancer Ward.

My dreams consisted of thoughts about death. I found myself trickling into these vivid recoils of damnation too often than I'd like. I thought about leaving my physical, human body, and toying with the other patients. 

That wheelchair accidentally spilling the patient perched within it's confines. Dropping the blood for a transfusion. Or tampering with needed organs. 

Then we'd escape into somewhere nicer. The land of the dead where the was no more cancer and no more pain, only the faint sounds of sobs coming from loved ones. If we can't be happy with the life we live, neither should they, nor should we suffer any longer.

If so, I'd fucking kill everyone.

I snap out of it, knowing that these men would become my friends. Certain members of the Support Group that I've regularly been attending have caught my eye, and my God, how it's changed me. I don't want them to suffer, though, and after the events witnessed today, Eddie shouldn't deal with bullshit chemotherapy any longer. 

Repressingly, there was nothing I could do to change a thing.

Rubbing my skin, I realize that I am solid. I still feel the slight tinge of pain when I pinch the smooth skin on the inside of my palm. I'm not dead yet. Damn.

I hear muffled voices on the outside of my door. Down one hallway, there had been a section for cancer patients whom were either newer to the facility or their condition hadn't been as critical. I, being one of them. The other hall had been where Eddie was housed, for the more attentive patients. 

Sighing, I swing my legs over the bed and remain in a sitting position. Closing my eyes, flashbacks of the injection I watched him endure poured back into my mind, and I winced whilst gritting my teeth. It wasn't necessarily something I wanted to concentrate on. I focus on other things, though the hushed sounds of staff and patients conversing was the only thing in mind and distracted me from any form of content.

I feel an urge boiling in the pit of my stomach. I'm starved. Running a gentle touch over my stomach, I'm thin and my ribcage is visible when I was absent from the hospital gown I'd adapted. As if on cue, it growls and I force myself to stand while slowly inching towards the door that led past my assigned room.

I glanced down the hall, and it was remotely clear. I'd skimmed the area and then departed from the cramped room, towards the cafeteria. Both halls of patients shared it, of course. The hospital knew me, and I had greetings tossed around such as, "How are you feeling, Aleks?" and "Good evening, Mr. Marchant!"  A polite nod or smile took care of those, easy.

I entered the room, and as well as the rest of the building, was mostly vacant. Other than a few employees and patients who had always been down here, nothing was out of place. Except for the boy sitting cross-legged in a wheelchair in the far corner of the room. He'd been sitting alone, and he didn't look more than twenty years old. Sleek black hair folded across his forehead and dark eyes matched. He was tall and lankiness aside, attractive.