I belted out the lyrics as loud as I could, my voice as scratchy as nails against a chalkboard. I, Adeline Maria Rose Tyler, could not sing for anything. This curse was an unknown gift that took me on a journey I could never forget; Love.
I had gotten the news earlier that day. It was official. I had stage one brain cancer. The Doctor told me that if the tumor got any bigger it would inoperable, and I would die. They set me up with an appointment to get it removed next month. Until then, the headaches I had been experiencing would only get worse until it was removed. I was given heavy dose ibuprofen.
When I felt the third one of today coming on, I took two of the pills with a swig of Mr. Jack Daniels. I've been taking swigs ever since. Instead of a full bottle, it was now half empty.
A pounding noise came from the other side of the wall in my living room. It was from Apartment B. My one and only next door neighbor. He, at least I'm assuming, moved in last month. I've never seen him in person, but I still heard the occasionally muffled phone call, and the television late in the night. It would wake me up. Up until last month, I could belt out with my horribly ugly voice as loud as I wanted to. Recently I'd been getting complaints.
His thick, British voice peered through the wall, "Bloody hell, could you shut your noisy hole Love??"
Stumbling across the floor, slipping and sliding on the wood with my fuzzy socks, I somehow managed to make it to the wall. With my cheek pressed against the cool paint, I responded, "Make my headache go away."
The reply was instant, the wall vibrating from his voice. Or was it my music? I didn't know. Everything was too blurry. "Don't you think you I'm trying to? You're even giving me a headache with your awful voice. I'm just doing us both a favor."
"Oh yeah? Mr. Jack Daniels is doing me a favor. If you want to do me a favor, make my brain tumor go away Mr. Apartment B." The tears were in full work now, and I slid down the wall. I must have sounded like a moron.
Apartment B didn't speak to me for the rest of the night.
I woke with a pounding in my head, worse then any headache I had ever felt. A hangover. My cheek came off the wall with a sharp 'pop' noise as I pulled it away. I already knew the skin was flat and red. I looked down to my side. Mr. Jack Daniels was empty. I frowned, now I had to go shopping.
With the mighty feeling of nausea I managed to make it to the bathroom without spewing chunks all over the floor. I could tell it was already going to be a rough day. I had work, then my first Chemo Treatment. Checking my watch, I noted I had thirty minutes to get to work.
As I looked at my reflection, I noticed I looked like shit. With Baggy, dark eyes, and chaotic hair, I rushed to my room. I was lucky I could wear whatever I wanted, so I went with a pair of loose jeans and a a plain grey t-shirt. I didn't have time to shower, so I quickly pulled my hair up into a messy bun. I was lucky I didn't wear much makeup, or it would make times like these a hassle. Although, I did my best to conceal those god-awful bags. It barely worked.
Grabbing my keys, and popping the pills, I rushed out of the house.
As I got began to unlock my car, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a slight movement in the curtains of Apartment B. Only a slight movement.
