She had been coughing all morning. Just like she had been coughing the past week. I knew something serious was wrong when she started to cough blood. I sat alone in the plastic chair, waiting for news. They didn't allow me to go in there with her. I was fucking nervous as hell, and couldn't do anything about it. Just wait.
After an hour of torture, the doctor finally came out. I quickly stood up, and approached him. He sighed and slowly motioned for me to follow him into the examination room. Inside, I noticed how pale she was and my heart stopped. "Hello Harry. We need to discuss a few things today, specifically about a... condition, that we have just noted on Beatrice." He spoke slowly, as if trying to be cautious. I spoke in a shaking tone. "What's happened to her?". He looked at her, and she looked up at the ceiling. "I'm very sorry to inform you, that Beatrice is diagnosed with pneumoconiosis. Meaning... that she has lung cancer."
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. No. This can't be happening. I look at my sister. Something is wrong. Why isn't she crying. Or screamming. Or throwing a tantrum like she always does. She keeps avoiding my gaze. "How? What is the reason, of the cancer?" I ask the doctor. He looks at me with sad eyes. "The cigarette, Harry. The cigarette is the reason, Beatrice has lung cancer."
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A.N. Hello everyone. Please comment and vote, the story gets better and is coming soon!
