A thousand feet apart

𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡 𝟙: sʜɪᴛᴛʏ ʟᴜɴɢs

Cole Jackson.

That's the name people hear and turn away.

I mean, if you had contagious shitty lungs i'd probably turn away too.

It makes sense. You turning away. Me coughing mucus . Being alone. The medicines and syringes. The tears in my mothers eyes. It all makes sense. 

The only thing that doesn't is: why me god?

I mean, what could a 17 year old possibly have done to deserve this.

I ask my mum that. I look away when i see the tears swell in her eyes.

"You dont Cole," she looks straight at the road.

That's not what i asked. I asked what i did, didn't ask if i deserve it. I dont voice my opinion out because the tears fall from my mum's eyes to her cheeks.

"You dont baby," she whispers before pulling the car to the road side shaking.

She gets out and leans against the car. I pretend as if I dont notice her shoulders shaking, the sobs erupting, the hands she's rubbing on her eyes. I pretend to ignore the red eyes and swollen cheeks i see when she sits inside and passes me the grin as if she did not just break down two minutes ago. I pretend.

She wont have to go through this much longer. Six months and it'll be over. I've made my mind. I'll make it okay. Everything i messed up existing, I'm going to fix it.

With that happy thought I slam the car door shut, resisting a sigh as i pull my mask on my face and start my sicking limping. 

It's going to be over soon. For now i can barely fucking breathe as i fix the oxygen tank around me.

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You know the benefit of having Cystic Fibrosis? 

No lines. No waiting in bathroom ques or waiting to take your tray from the cafeteria. No waiting in the office lines to take documents. None. 

Maybe it's because we dont even last that long. I mean the estimated amount of years for my survival were 15 without a lung transplant. And here i am, 17, with borrowed lungs from a dead man. Even borrowed lungs turned out to be better than my shitty pair. They last for five years. I'm supposed to get another transplant at 20 but because my mother's very worried, we're getting mine at my 18th birthday. Six months away.

Well we're supposed to. But i'm not going to. Right after i came out of my first transplant, i'd decided i refuse to live like this. I refuse to live with sins adding on my already huge mountain of sins, i refuse to steal my mother's life, my father's life, i refuse to do this anymore because this isn't living. 

My medicine's are supposed to make me live but i'm living for my medicines. I'm going to end it. I'm going to end it. I'm going to end it.

"Mr.Jackson did you say something?" I come out of my daze to look at my calculus teacher questioning me. I just said that aloud didnt i, shit.

"Huh?" I ask, blinking.

"You were saying something," she repeats.

I just shake my head, adjusting the tube going in my nose as i pull my hoodie closer to me, shrinking in my chair, hiding my face.

The teacher looks at me for a while, waiting for an answer before finally sighing and continuing her lecture. 

As soon as the bell rings, i'm the first to jump out of my chair and i'm almost out of the door when i hear someone from behind.

"He said 'huh'," a guys voice comes from behind.

"You're dreaming, he never talks," someone says.

"I swear!" The guy's saying something but i rush away not wanting to hear more.

I rush through the hall which isnt very hard considering children made a path for me, edging away whispering. I walk through it alone. Not quite alone. 

I freeze when i see her. At the end of the hall. She's adjusting her tank when her head raises and our eyes meet. I immediately look away and make a mad dash for the closest hall and end up in a biology class which isn't even my class but no body asks. Duh, no body talks to me.

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I'm walking towards her locker as soon as the bell for last period rings. She's in front of it.

I halt to a stop and grab her hand to get her attention.

'What're you doing here?" I demand feeling everyone's eyes bore in my back since they've probably never seen me exchange a word with anyone.

She pulls her arm away as her glare sharpens.

"I could ask you the same question," She says before rolling her oxygen cart away and exiting the school through the metal doors.

I try to ignore everyone's curious eyes as i put my head in my hands, rubbing my sweaty palms on my pale face, running them through my wild black hair. I look like a son of hades. I didnt use to. But now i do. Black hair, skin pale like a sheet, black eyes with no spark. I'm okay with what i look like, as long as it keeps people away.

I try not to think about her as i grab my stupid tank, wear my mask and walk away.

Six months till all this is over.