It was just a normal day.

Me and my brother went to different schools, so we came back home in different cars. My mom picked me up from school, and my uncle used to pick him up for us.

That day he didn't come back home. 

My mother grabbed my hand and yelled at me for no apparent reason. She pulled me away from my bed and forced me into her car. That's when my mother told me about my brother.

Another school shooting.

Another child dead. What's the big deal?

That's what they all said to me in high school.

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I remember the last words River said to me. We had had a fight, and I was pushing him away from me when he said sorry and came for a hug. 

 'Hey, now that we have had a fight, you will write horrible things about me in your book, right? write good stuff.'

So River, if you are reading this, I promise I will write good stuff about you. 

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You did think it would have been hard having cancer and dealing with the loss of someone I loved. 

The truth is, I was used to it. 

I wasn't used to the pain the medicine brought me, but I was used to the heartbreak, alright. My father. River. Angelica. The old me.

I was used to losing people. But it did hurt. It still does. It hurts like hell. 

But I have learnt to cope with this pain. I have learnt to bear this fire of hell, to the extent where it doesn't hurt anymore. It's gone to the point where my heart is constantly on fire, burning, slowly turning into ashes.

And because of the Chemotherapy, my body was on fire too. 

It was hard. 

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My doctor told me to count down. She said it would help keep my mind busy. To be honest, it did work.

She would tell me to count down to ten, and as soon as I reached one, she would insert the tube that helped transfer whatever drug it was to kill my cancer. She would tell me to count down when I couldn't sleep at nights. As soon as I reached one, they would give me the sleep medicine.

In other words, counting down to one brought relief, usually in the form of pain. It helped me hold on to life. 

So I counted down from ten to one for every little thing. 

Although it distracted my mind, I couldn't help waiting for the countdown to end. 


My life is a countdown. 

Two down, eight more to go. 



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