Holding On

Chapter 8| Tired

*unedited*

"It's not getting any better, but it's not getting worse."

Look at the positives.

That's what I keep getting told. 

How can I look at the positives when I'm dying? My phone keeps buzzing from texts from Sebastian and Abigail. I guess they think we've gotten close with the few months we've been talking. 

But I'm tired.

No one told me how exhausting dying was. The circles under my eyes have become more predominant, something that I don't think even concealer can hide any more. My head keeps pounding and even a whisper sounds like an ear splitting scream. I imagine this is what it's like to be hungover. But of course I wouldn't know, I never got my chance to be a reckless teenager. 

I took the last week off school, I've been too out of it to focus. I know that I should message Seb and Abigail and tell them not to worry. I know I should walk around with a smile plastered on my face because that's what everyone wants to see. No one wants to see something broken. People barely like to clean their own messes, so why should they pick up the pieces for someone else?

I've been at the hospital for the past couple of hours, waiting for Mel's results. Even though she says that I'm not getting any worse, I feel so much worse. It's four in the afternoon and I'm struggling to stay awake. And I got up at noon.

I'm so out of it, that I don't believe my eyes when I see Jeremy at the end of the corridor, a look of pity in his eyes. But why would I hallucinate him? Don't people hallucinate things they want to see? I push myself up from my chair and head down the corridor, staying closer to the wall for extra stability. Just in case.

When I get closer I realise that it is Jeremy. But he isn't looking at me anymore. He's looking at a little girl, who looked to be my age when I was first diagnosed, lying on a bed with an oxygen tank attached to her. 

"Her name's Sarah." Jeremy tells me, his voice cracking as he says her name.

When I look at him, he looks like he hasn't slept in days. He looks just as broken as me. Is this how my family looks when they aren't putting on a brave face for me? 

"How old is she?" I ask, and by the look in his eye I don't think I'll like the answer.

"She's fourteen."

"I was thirteen when I was diagnosed. I'm eighteen now." I try to give him some sort of hope and give him a small smile.

He returns the smile just as pathetically, as if it's taking all of our effort just to conjure up some sort of positivity. "No offence, but you don't exactly look healthy."

My laugh comes out raspy, "No, probably not. But I'm still here. That's got to count for something."

Jeremy doesn't respond, just looks at me with a sad smile. "That Sebastian guy has been looking kind of distraught lately. You should probably call him."

"Yeah, I probably should."

But I don't.

I've come to the conclusion that I just write short chapters. This chapter has quite a different tone to the rest of the others so please let me know what you think. Now you know a little bit more about Jeremy and why he stopped his friends from hurting Kennedy. And no Sebastian in this chapter. (But Abigail is my favourite so I had to at least mention her)