Pretty and Dying (On Hold)

Pretty and Dying

I was never the center of attention.. I didn't like to be. Even if life threw me into the center, I backed out of it. Even when life threw me... cancer.  

Most people would tell everyone they know; try to let them know what was ahead and to not worry. That was just not.. me. I did things a little different. This was my story. 

The story of how I - Danielle Marino - died.

-----

"Sweetie, get your things together, we have another chemo session." My mom said, grabbing the keys.  I turned off the loud television and groaned, as I got off the couch, "I don't WANT to go."

"You have to go. Especially if you want to get better."

I grabbed my phone and zipped up my purple hoodie. I looked up to see my mother staring at me.

  "Can I help you, mother?" I asked, slipping my gray converse on.

"You just look so.. pretty." She said, her voice cracking. A tear was slowly sliding down her cheek. I sighed.. she did this about every hour on the hour. She would say I look pretty or another adjective and then start crying.

  "Mom, we don't have time for this." I said, heading towards the door. She wiped her eyes and grabbed her purse and car keys. She locked the door behind her and met me at her smart car.

----

At school, I could be the normal person I am... or WAS. I had no one to feel bad for me, like my mother. No one knew. Which was perfect for me.

"Hey loser." My best friend, Sam, said.

He walked up to me as I entered school. He usually waited for me on a bench, in the front of the school.  He had sandy, short, brown hair and brown eyes to match. He was ordinary and thats why I loved about him. He had been my best friend since we were in middle school. He was the most attractive one from the group, always having a new girl hit on him. He always kindly declined, making everyone wonder if Sam AND I were dating.. which was a no. It's not that i'm ugly. I'm not gorgeous.. just a plain jane. I had light brown hair and brown eyes. My skin was lightly tan from my spanish roots. Something I got from my father.

It was also not because Sam and I didn't like each other in that way. We did in the beginning of freshmen year. We tried it for a few days but never made it anything official because it turned out being too weird. Even kissing him was weird. Luckily, it didn't change our friendship. We stayed friends and it was now our senior year.

"If anyone's a loser, its you." I said, trying to hit him. He grabbed my wrist before I could and he hit it, "No, bad girl. Don't hit me." 

"Ow, that hurts." I said, referring to his tight grip on my wrist. He let go and I started rubbing it, "Why are you so rough?"

  "Why are YOU so sensitive?" He asked, smirking. I rolled my eyes and started walking towards the elevator. I couldn't take the stairs because i'd get too tired and probably pass out. Or so the doctor said. I didn't want to call attention to myself, so I did as I was told. 

  "You need a pass to ride the elevator, stupid." Sam said, stopping in his tracks once he was in front of the elevator.

I pulled out my pass, "I have one.. STUPID."

I pushed the button and got inside, Sam quickly following.

  "How'd you get one?" He asked.

"You can say anything to the nurse and she'll give you one." I lied. He smiled, then ruffled my hair, "Is my little Daniella turning into a bad ass?"

"Don't touch me, weirdo. And no, I just don't like being pushed by sweaty losers on the stairs."

After leaving the elevators and making our way to our lockers, I started to feel a little dizzy. Elevators always made me feel queasy but that plus the chemo, I was starting to feel a little bit more than queasy. My eyesight started blurring. I blinked a few times, trying to get my vision back. I stumbled a bit before Sam steadied me, "Are you okay, Dani?"

I weakly smiled at him, "Yes." I tried walking normally to my locker but then my head had started hurting and my breathing had become unsteady.

 "Are you sure you're okay?" He asked me, letting go of my arm.

"no." I whispered before I blacked out.

--

My eyes adjusted to the light. The lamp light, I mean. It was dark outside and I was laying down in my pink bed. My zebra walls made it seem so much more darker inside.

I looked around trying to remember how I got here. Wasn't I just at school?

My mother walked in with a glass of water. Her face light up when she saw me awake, "Oh, you're awake now? I went to get you some water." She handed me the water.

I opened my mouth to talk but it was so dry. I took the water from her hand and gulped it as fast as I could.

  "Slow down. There's more where that came from." She giggled. Something she hadn't done in awhile.

I cleared my throat and sat up in my bed, "What happened?"

She looked down, "You blacked out at school, sweetie."

I sighed, suddenly remembering.

Suddenly, my mom had started crying. I looked at her, bewilderment on my face, "You okay?"

  "You don't remember." She didn't ask... It was more of a statement.

"Remember what?"

  "We went to the doctors today." She looked at me, her eyes red.

I nodded, asking her to go on.

  "Danielle... Dani, you're not reacting to the chemo well. You don't," She cleared her throat, trying to get out whatever she had to say, "You don't have long.. long to live." She started bawling as a lump caught in my throat. 

What? What was she saying? She was lying. She had to be.  

This was a joke. But why wasn't she laughing? WHY? Why wasn't she laughing.

I started crying too, my hands covering my eyes as I brought my knees up to my chest, "No.. No.."

She started crying even more, before she ran out of my room.

"No..No.. I can't... I can't die.." I whispered to myself.

---

It was about twelve when I stopped crying. I slipped into my bathroom and washed my face. I was wiping my face when I looked over at something I hadn't touched in years.

I picked it up and went back into my room. I sat on my bed and pulled my knees up to my chest. I pulled up my sweater, looking at my arm up and down. Tears were now flowing out once again. I tried to tell myself I was better than this but in this moment, I didn't care.

I slid the silver razor across my arm, taking in the pain and watching the blood come out. As soon as it did, I cried some more.

I dropped the razor and looked at my arm, wondering why I had to do it. Something I used to always ask myself when I used to cut. Before Sam stopped me.

But not even Sam could stop me now. Because it didn't matter either way.. I was still going to die.