12-The One Where They Tell Us

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There's too much white. It's swirling around me so fast I can't tell place sounds with objects. Am I in heaven?

Groggily, I open my eyes. Definitely not heaven. Heaven doesn't have me ladened down with every tube and machine known to the medical community. Heaven doesn't have me struggling to see through a haze of a horrific headache.

"Ella?"

But heaven might have him. Painfully, I turn my head just enough to see my sweet angel sitting in the hospital issued chair beside me. Benedict, sitting there in his worry eyes/scruffy cheeks/heavy souled glory. He's still here.

"Hey, Benedict," I mumble. His fingers find mine and we hold hands as simply as children.

"Are you-how are you-"

"I'm dandy, my love," I assure him. "I'm perfectly fine."

"No, you aren't," he whispers, so softly I almost miss it. "You aren't okay, but I appreciate your heroics."

I don't want to say anything else. Whatever I say won't fill the space between us. Instead, I lean over to kiss him like his lips are air and I want my last breath to be a good one.

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Doctors like to knock before they come in. It's like they want to give you a second to get yourself ready, then they tell you whatever they have to say so you can properly freak out. Doctors in England are no different.

"Hello, I'm Dr. MacArthur," a beautiful woman says as she sweeps into the room. "I understand you aren't from the UK, so we were just in contact with your doctors back home."

"They told you everything you needed to know, I presume," I reply, nestling into the pillows. Benedict's hand hasn't left mine since I woke up.

"Yes, they told me about your circumstances. While you were unconscious, we took some CAT scans of your brain." She slides some pictures into the board in front of my bed. I'm no doctor, but I can predict the words that are going to come out of her mouth.

"Ms. Weston, the tumour is taken over your brain. There is absolutely nothing we can do. Your time...your time is limited."

There it is. In black white. I try to keep my breathing normal, but Benedict's ragged breaths make it harder.

"The only thing we can do now is keep you here and comfortable," she adds softly. I can barely focus on her; the scans behind her seem to be screaming at me.

"Is there something, anything she can take? Even to give her a little more time?" Benedict whispers. Dr. MacArthur shakes her head.

"The tumour is too advanced. There's no drugs, no chemo, nothing. I'm truly sorry," she says and I believe her. It truly pains her to see us going through this. "I'll leave you two to talk this through," she adds and her jacket swishes behind her as she leaves. The final sound of the door slamming shut drives me over the edge.

Sounds I didn't know could come from my body, sounds that don't sound human, rip from me almost my their own accord. "Benedict!" I scream, clawing at his arm like a possessed woman. "Don't let them take me! Don't let them take me!"

"Darling, who is taking you?" He asks frantically, wrapping his arms around me.

"Them! It! Don't let it take me away from you, Benedict, please!" I cry again, hot tears streaming down my cheeks. My body moves on its own-fingers thrashing through hair and legs flailing. I can't think-I can't think-it's too loud-it's too hot-what is happening?!?

"Nurse!" Benedict shouts down the hallway as he tries to separate my hands from tearing at my hair. A pair of blue scrubbed orderlies race in with a squeak of orthopaedic shoes, but it only makes me cry harder.

"Don't let them take me away from you!" I shout again as the needle plunges into my arm and I fall limply into a chemical sleep.

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So this chapter kinda got away from me. I just got pulled in by the drama and raw feelings so I'm sorry if it's a little crazy for you. I've decided to put one more good chapter in before shit hits the fan. That'll be next chapter.

Thank you so much for reading my silly little stories! It makes me so happy to see votes and comments and follows! Thanks again and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

Cheers,

Stella

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