UNTIL THE END | ✔️

Chapter 3

The next day:

Kenna's POV

I wake up in fear, all sweaty and agitated. I look around, but I can barely look at anything. It's too dark.

I wiggle towards the tiny bedside table in my hospital room to reach for my cell phone.

The display on my lock screen flashes the four a.m. clock.

I tossed my cell phone back onto the bedside table and turned to the other side.

I shut my eyes and tried to get some sleep.

But a clear image of my parents on the day they died appears in my mind. Their dead bodies lay in the mortuary. Lifeless.

I shake my head to try to push the image away and try to think about all the good things.

That's what mom says: "Think about all the good things, and the bad ones will go away."

I close my eyes and think about my tenth birthday.

Mom and I are in a lovely garden with beautiful flowers around us. I'm sprawled on my favorite pink picnic blanket, gazing at the sky. Mom is perched on the bench behind me, reading a hard copy. I look at the half-eaten strawberry cheesecake and take a lick of the cream cheesecake. I slowly glance to see if Mom is looking at me. She's slightly peeking from her book and is laughing at me. She bends down to wipe a little cream from the side of my mouth and kisses my forehead.

It was such a lovely day. So peaceful. Just the two of us. Most would call it boring, but it was perfect for me.

With this thought, I drifted off to sleep again.

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Mom woke me at seven a.m. I stared at her through my blurry vision, unable to open my eyes and look at her.

After what felt like a lifetime, I flung my eyes open and sat upright.

I get changed into my normal clothes. It was such a relief to be out of this stupid hospital gown.

Mom offers me some stale chicken sandwiches, which she made last night before she got here.

We were done getting dressed a few minutes later.

Mom said we had to meet with the doctor at eight a.m. We had a few minutes to kill before the results killed me.

That's when I look out of my hospital window. It has a good view. It overlooks a playground, which is empty right now, with a few buildings around it.

The kids were probably at school or somewhere better than a hospital.

Mom walks up to me and holds me in her arms. I hold on to her as tight as I can.

I didn't want to let go. Not now. Not ever. I held on to her for dear life.

After forever, she pulls away and looks at me, and with a shaky voice, she says, "It's going to be okay, Kenny. Whatever it is, it will be fine."

She makes everything feel so natural and mundane.

I nod with confidence and give her one of my brightest smiles. Brightest and most fake smile, might I say?

With that done, we walked towards the doctor's cabin.

With a few steps down the long hallway, we stop in front of a door with a name plate that reads, "Dr. Jack Meyers, General Physician, MBBS."

When Mom swings the door open, we see an old man sitting behind a desk and looking at his computer with furrowed brows. He held my fate.

He looks up at mom and me and greets us, "Good morning, Miss Joy and little Miss Joy," and grins like a five-year-old.

My birth name was Kenna Mason. After the death of my parents, my mom (a.k.a. aunt) got it changed to my mommy and her last name, which was Joy.

Since then, I have been Kenna Joy.

I smiled and nodded. I couldn't speak right now. The words would just not come out.

He motions for us to take the seats in front of him, and as we do, he asks Mom, "Case twenty-three, Miss Joy?"

"Yes, twenty-three," she replies.

He looks at several folders on his table and picks the one that has my name and a 23 marked on it.

He pulls out a set of neatly stapled papers and scans them ever so quickly with his huge green eyes.

He looks up at Mom with an uncertain emotion in his eyes.

Guilt? Or probably dismay?

I instantly felt the nervousness kick in.

He looks at me sympathetically.

"Miss Joy," he begins, "I'm afraid the odds are against us."

My heart sinks. Probably even deeper than the Titanic. If that's possible.

"My colleagues and I think—I mean, we suspect this to be a case of acute lymphocytic leukemia," he says, looking at the floor.

Acute lym-what? What is he even talking about? Is that even a thing? An illness or whatever?

"And?" was the only thing mom could manage to say.

''And, well, we just suspect it. I'm not sure about it, though. So we suggest that you go to the, uh, you can visit any oncohematology department in specialized hospitals," he says unsteadily.

I inhaled sharply. Maybe very sharply because mom and the doctor turn to look at me.

I swallowed a huge, invisible lump that's stuck in my throat.

Cancer hospital. Leukemia. Am I going to die?

But wait, he said he wasn't sure. Okay, maybe there was an error because this is a local hospital, which is not very posh and probably not even accurate.

A tiny bit of confidence creeps in.

"So that's it from our side," he says, looking worried.

Damn, this doctor was way more nervous than I was.

"Yeah, so you can just sign here and clear the dues. Ana right here will help you with it," he says, thrusting a set of papers towards mom and motioning to the nurse from yesterday.

Once that was done, Mom thanked him and began walking towards the door. I stood up and gave him a small smile before following her.

When she reached the door, he spoke again.

''I wish you luck, Miss Joy. Just be careful, yeah? Tend to your health as quickly as you can. My daughter suffered from the same illness, and nothing could be done about it. She's gone. Please don't let that repeat'', he says with tearful eyes.

That's when the fear sets in.

What if this test was accurate?

What if he was right about me having this leukemia?

What if I was going to die?

Cancer is known to kill people, but some do survive.

Fear is also known to kill people, but none survive.