Read a magazine. Try to eat, and fail. Read a magazine. The cycle never ends. Looking around, waiting, but for what? Gus to walk in? My parents to walk in and tell me that my cancer didn't get worse, that I could go home? That Gus never died?
I think about the Anne Frank Museum and the little girl who asked about my cannula. I think about Peter Van Houten. I spend extra long time on thinking about June 2nd. I haven't been able to erase the date from my mind. It is burned into my brain and I will never be able to think of it as a normal day again, because that is the day Augustus Waters died. It seems like only the other day that IT happened, but I know it's been so much longer than that. I realize that since I have been in the ICU, I have no idea what day it is. How long have I been here? Days? Weeks? Months?
Suddenly I snap back to the reality of my cancer. There is a searing pain inside, but it's not my lungs. It's my throat. To be precise, it's that place right in between my collarbones, that little place where it scoops down and it's burning. It feels like a baseball is lodged in my throat. I am wheezing and gasping for air but I feel like the room has been replaced fully of carbon dioxide. The nurse races to my side but I can't speak. To tell her where it hurts I lightly touch my fingers to that same spot. Tears cascade down my cheeks and suddenly everything goes black.
YOU ARE READING
The Fault in Our Stars: Epilouge
FanfictionA short story on what happens to Hazel one year after Gus' death
