White Box [under major construction]

Chapter Two

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Chapter Two

My parents didn’t come for two days. I figured they were trying to give me a little space, and sometime to think. Was I too harsh? My thoughts were interrupted by a nurse walking in; she pushed a cart over and smiled at me cheerfully. How fake. What a pointless way to make this place seem less dark and bleak. To give off a sense of false hope, it shouldn’t be wasted on someone like me, someone who’ll never escape this fate.

“Morning Sumi, I brought you breakfast.” She grabbed the tray on top of the cart and helped set the over-bed table so that it was in front of me. Porridge. Disgusting. “Don’t tell the others but I slipped a chocolate chip cookie in there, I know it’s your favorite.” That should have made me happy, and it did, 2 years ago. It is simply depressing that I’ve stayed at a hospital for so long the nurses know my favorite cookie flavor without me ever telling them.

“How are you feeling this morning?”

“Fine.” Don’t bring it up. Don’t do it. Leave me be. Let me eat my breakfast in peace.

“That’s good; you’re taking the news surprisingly well.”

“When you have to stay in a hospital for as long as I have, death actually begins to look appealing.” I said dryly. It was pointless, conversations were pointless. Because conversations start relationships, and any relationships that involve me would just end a jumble of tears.

“Haha, I’ve been working as a nurse here for quite some time as well and I have to admit, it’s not the most cheerful place in the planet…” I didn’t hear what she said next, I was too focused on the cookie in front of me. It was pink.

“You noticed huh? The cooks were trying to give this hospital a burst of color, says the hospital gave off a very dreading feeling, something about feeling like they’re trapped when they enter.” The nurse laughed, it wasn’t an obnoxious laugh like I had expected. It was surprisingly warm. I gave a small smile back, god knows how long since that’s happened. She was just about to say something when her pager beeped, signaling that she had to leave.

“Well Sumi, enjoy your breakfast.” She reached into her pocket and turned the beeping off, giving me a small wave as she leaves the room.

I looked down at the porridge then towards the cookie. Grabbing the cookie I took a small nibble. It was warm. Probably fresh out of the oven. After I finished the cookie, the mix of vegetables and rice no longer looked appetizing. I pushed it to the side and was left alone with my thoughts yet again.

Why me? I wondered. Why did I have to be stuck in this situation? Why did I have to die? Speaking of dying, I still have to know exactly how long I have. ‘A few weeks’ was a bit of a vague answer. I clicked the button on the side of my bed, I remember my old, naïve self clicking the button just so someone would come in and keep me company.

“Ms. Sumi?” It was Dr. Rogers. He has been my doctor for the 3 years I’ve been here, Nagano was relatively small, thus there were never ‘too many patients’. Dr. Rogers was a nice man, he really was. He was in what I predicted to be late 50s and would never get angry, no matter how much he was being provoked.

“Dr. Rogers, could I… Could I know what’s wrong with me?” I hesitantly let out; the fact that I was going to die finally sunk it. It hadn’t felt real the past few days, no one was saying anything. It hadn’t felt real.

“I... Ms…” He let out a sigh and slowly sat in the chair on the other side of the bed. “Lupus. An extreme case of Lupus. Usually, someone with this disease, as long as taken care of, can live a full life. You however, it was as if your immune system completely broke down. The Lupus was only supposed to weaken it, but it did much more than that. Your immune system is not only extremely weak; it’s also open for any attacks by other bacteria and viruses.” I gave a small nod, understanding what he meant. But just because I understand doesn’t mean it doesn’t make me sad. I want to yell at my body, why did you have to be so god damn weak? Why can’t you be fully functioning? Why can’t it be normal?

“How long more do I have?” I asked, needing to know. I braced myself for the worst,

“3 weeks.”

~*~

this is so off, i am so sorry prompt creater ;-; i changed things and now it's all in sumi's pov. because ya know, people will understand how she feels better. excuse my poor attempts at explaining diseases. i'm not doctor material. at all. 

vote & comment please~ let me know what you think ^.^ 

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