Amazing Grace (to be edited)

Chapter 5

THE LONG AWAITED CONTINUATION!!!!!!! Okay, first off, let me say that I am so sorry for not updating, AT ALL, in FOREVER. I'm sort of slow as it is, but this was uncalled for. I just couldn't really think of anyhing, and had other developments on my noggin. So, enjoy.

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It had been a few days since the letter. I tried not to count the days until the month was over, because I knew where it would lead if I did. Yet, I was coginsant of that ever-diminishing number, hanging precariously over my head.

Taunting.

Screaming.

Laughing.

It seemed my Grace was getting frailer by the hour. This stupid hospital was eating away at her. She had to get out of here. And for now, I had to be oh so strong for her. Never show fear, or she would fall apart.

That´s why I only cried after she was asleep.

It was pretty early in the morning. The sun had only just risen about a half hour ago. I heard a groan come from Grace's hospital bed. At that, I sat up straigter and wiped my eyes, preparing for her gaze.

"Mommy," she said, sitting up a bit,, "I don't like this place anymore." She coughed while clutching her head, then continued, "It's scary. Can we  go home now?"

Dear God. The look in her eyes when she said that was unbearable. How could I say no to that? Shivering, I knew I couldn't let her die in this depressing place. I had to get her out of this horrible dump.

Taking a leap of faith, I answered, "Yes, I think we can." Getting up and placing a kiss on her forehead, I whipered to her, "I'm going to get you out of here, but I have to leave for a little while. Be a good girl while I'm gone."

She nodded at me with comprehension, a mature comprehension that no 7-year-old should have. She really did amaze me day in and day out. I walked out of the door and swiftly down to the receptionist. She gave a wide, fake smile.

"How can I help you?"

"I'm Emily Macintosh, mother of Grace Macintosh, and I would like to discontinue her treatment."

The woman nodded at me and began typing away, "Macintosh, Mactintosh, oh, here it is," she muttered under her breath. She then clicked on the file and her face went a bit pale.

"Um, Ms. Macintosh, I don't think it's in your best interest to discontinue treatment at this time," she said.

"I know what I'm doing," I replied, slightly annoyed, "Discontinue it."

"Ms. Macintosh, I really don't think you want-"

"I know what I want!" I shouted suddenly, "I want her not to die in this damn depressing place! Now discontinue it, because wether you like it or not, I'm taking her the hell home!" I screamed at her and stormed off. I got many disgusted looks from th people in the lobby, but I didn't give a shit. I was low on sleep and my only daughter had terminal brain cancer. You would think I had a right to be moody.

Once back to Grace's room, I huffed and said, "We can go home now." Grace looked automatically relieved. I called in a nurse, who after a bit of persuasion unhooked her IV and other various tubes. I grabbed her clothes from the day she came here and helped her out of her hospital gown and into them. Then I picked her up and cariied her out, avoiding many protesting doctors, and drove her home.

Once there Grace looked happier than she had in a long while. She ran upstairs, jumped onto her bed and layed down, sighing.

"I'm tired," she said.

"I can let you rest." I replied, kissing her on the forehead and then turning to go.

"Mommy," she chimed, making me turn, "Can you make blueberry pancakes tomorrow morning?"

I chuckled, "Yes, sweetie, of course."