the fighter || l.h || on hold

Chapter 22.

I doesn’t matter how many times I tell myself I am ready for death, I just know that I’m not. And it’s true I’m not ready to die, I want to have a life, I real life. One where I could have a husband and kids and a white fence around our big house. I just want to smile and tell everyone that my cancer is gone. But I can’t. I just have to sit in this blood covered hospital bed and feel weak, I just have to sit here knowing that I only have one more week left. “Could you ask Michael and Luke to come inside?” I looked over to the nurse who was checking up on me, I think her name was Rachel? Maybe? She smiled and nodded before walking out.

Luke and Michael walked in smiling at me, I wanted to badly to smile back at them but I couldn’t bring myself too. “I have some news” I told them and they nodded while sitting down, Michael at the end of my bed and Luke next to me. Eye contact wasn’t happening either. “I asked the doctor when I am going to” I paused, I don’t want to say word “die” I finished and took a deep breath “it’s a week from today” both their smiles faded and frowns appeared across them instead, I should hang my head in shame but I didn’t, I watched as their eyes started to water and their cheeks turned red.

“No, no this isn’t possible, they gave you months to live” Michael started to rock back and forth pulling and tugging at his purple hair tears were pooling in his eyes and in seconds they were streaming down his pale cheeks, my eyes then averted to Luke who was just sitting there, his hands grip on my own had tightened as he stared at me. “You promised me you wouldn’t leave!” Michael yelled, he was standing up now, pacing back and forth “you promised you would fight!” he screamed

“I’m trying Michael, its hard you know” my voice was straining now, the croaky weak sound was starting, he turned around and his eyes softened. He didn’t stop though, he kept pacing up and back, up and back. My eyes then went back to Luke who was now crying “please don’t cry Luke”

“Why didn’t you ask Michael not to cry?” his voice was like his morning voice, raspy and rough.

“What?”

“He started to cry but you didn’t tell him not too”

“Because when you cry it’s the worst type of crying” said “the one where you want to feel strong, you want to be strong. But you can feel it in the back of your throat and your eyes become blurry, you hold your stomach and hold your breath so you’ll say quiet even though you can’t breathe”

“I don’t understand” he pulled his hand away from mine and held to his forehead and then to the back of his neck rubbing it furiously.

“I can see your in pain, and I hate it” I whisper, I know that he will say something about how he has to see me being in pain every day and I regret mentioning anything.

“I see you in pain every day, I think I die a little every time I do” he mumbles

“Can we not talk about me?”

“Why not? You have a week left” he sighed “the spotlight is turned to you”

“it doesn’t have to be like that though” I told him, I grabbed his hand which was in his lap and I brought it to my rough dry lips as I placed a butterfly kiss to his skin, he smiled slightly “this week could be about achieving things that are on my bucket list, you know how they do that in romance novels? Or it could be about you and I” I tried so hard to think of some more but I just could, I sighed “just please, can it not be about me dying”

He had a small smile on his face which made me smile brightly, more brightly than I have in the last 24 hours “okay, the bucket list it is, even if I have to beg the doctors to let you out” he leaned in and kissed my lips sweetly.

“Are you okay?” Michael asked me, I looked up at him and I tried to smile, I really did. But I couldn’t.

“Am I supposed to be?” I whispered

“I don’t know really” he muttered looking down

“I’m not sure if I’m depressed, I mean I’m not sad but I’m exactly happy either. I can laugh and joke and smile during the day, but sometimes at night when I’m alone I forget how to feel” I whispered

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked me and I just shrugged “your scaring me Darcy”

“Don’t be scared, that’s stupid Michael”

“Don’t be scared about what?” the calm shaky tone of voice Michael had like a few seconds ago now changed to a deep angry tone of voice and it scared me. “About the fact that you’re going to day in seven days? Or the fact that I’m probably going to fall in depression, or that my life is never going to be happy without you here with me?” he growled “tell me Darcy!” he yelled, I jumped back in fright at his sudden making pain shoot through my shoulder, I looked back up at him.

His eyes softened at the sight of me actually afraid of him, he stumbled back and banged into the wall his eyes widened “Michael it’s okay”

“No it’s not okay” he mumbled he brought his hands to his face rubbing it furiously “I should go” he whispered

“No please don’t go” I said weakly trying to making him stay, he just ignored me and walked out the door and into the hallway, I sighed and sunk back into the uncomfortable bed. Stupid cancer ruins everything. Maybe I should write letters to everyone for when I die, like in those romance novels.

But what would they say?

‘So tell me how does it feel to know me better than anyone else has ever before?’

‘I once read this thing it went like this

Don’t depend too much on someone in this world, because even your own shadow leaves you in the dark’

Well that’s a bit depressing.

I guess cancer does that to you.

SHOUTOUT TO GRACE FOR WRITTING THIS CHAPTER! whoops sorry caps locks still on, my bad