《Terminal》


 Chapter 1

    The teacher¡¯s voice echoes emptily through my mind, but the words have no meaning to me. The bell rings in the distance, but the sound of it merely slips into my head and then leaves as subtly as it came. Kids tramp out of the room, chattering loudly, but I find that I am frozen to my seat. All around me, the world is moving, but for me, all is still.


    The teacher comes up to me, her voice kind but hardened. ¡°Alyssa?¡± she asks, and I jerk my head up, and then lower it again when I see it¡¯s only her. ¡°Yeah?¡± I whisper, just loud enough for her to hear, but what she has to say does not matter so much anymore.


    ¡°It¡¯s time to go now.¡± Her voice is cold, but not harsh.


    I raise my eyebrows to acknowledge that I heard her, but my brain is just numb. No matter what I do, nothing will ever be the same. So I don¡¯t move. Maybe she will put me into trouble, but that will mean nothing.


    ¡°Alyssa,¡± she snaps, and I can tell she¡¯s frustrated. I raise my head and look her in the eyes. She¡¯s looking at me with one eyebrow raised in impatience. ¡°I have another class to teach now, and unless I am mistaken, you have another class to attend.¡± I still don¡¯t move, and I see her grit her teeth together in carefully restrained anger. ¡°What is with you today?¡± she says finally, a threatening edge to her voice.


    I don¡¯t know if she expects me to pour out my heart and soul to her or what, but I don¡¯t answer, staring sullenly up at her.


    ¡°You¡¯ve never made a show like this before.¡± She stares at me for a while, and I stare numbly at my desk, chewing my lip and hoping that she¡¯ll realize that it¡¯s futile and that I¡¯m not going anywhere. Finally she clucks her tongue and shakes her head with an over-dramatic sigh. ¡°Okay, Alyssa, as you wish.¡± She flings open the door, and I hear her say to the kids lined up outside, ¡°Please come in.¡± As she says this, I drop my head down and rest it on my chin. I know I don¡¯t have the courage to boldly look up at them.


    They flood into the room, and I hear a kid ask, ¡°Hey, what¡¯s she doing here?¡± I don¡¯t look up at him or say anything, but keep on staring at my desk as kids keep coming in. I wonder who in this other class sits at my desk, and what he¡¯ll do when he realizes I¡¯m in it.


    I hear slow, heavy footfalls near me, and feel hot breath on the back of my neck, but I still don¡¯t look up. I will never look up.


    A thick, deep, rumbling voice. ¡°Hey, uh, sorry to disturb you, but this is my desk.¡±


    I don¡¯t say a word, but stay firmly where I am. I still don¡¯t look up.


    ¡°Oh, I see.¡± His voice is confused, but not angry. I hear him tramp over to a desk behind me and stand behind it. I know that the class is waiting for an explanation of why I am here, but she doesn¡¯t offer one, and although no one says much more than that, I suspect some of them are throwing me curious looks. But I only listen in silence as the pledge of allegiance rings out, and chairs screech as the kids sit down.


    Then the teacher plunges into a lesson, and I hear the sound of pen scratching on paper next to me. But my mind is far away, in a world that no one dares to go, no one wants to dream of, and no one ever, ever comes back from. The lesson is over quickly, but I never even realize that it went by.


    Then the bell rings again. A whole class has gone by, and I have not once looked up from my desk. School is over, everything is over, and I still have not looked up. I am not sure I will ever be ready to move again. The kids drain out of the classroom.


    ¡°So?¡± The teacher¡¯s voice is cold and crisp. ¡°What now? Do you plan to stay in this room all night?¡±


    I still don¡¯t answer. I don¡¯t know what I plan to do, but it doesn¡¯t matter anymore.


    ¡°Alyssa, if something¡¯s wrong, you know that you can tell me, right?¡±


    I still say nothing.


    The door bangs open, and my head instinctively jerks up, although I instantly regret it when I see who it is.


    Marya tosses her head and strides over to me, her heels digging into the floor. She sits on the desk and stares at me with both eyebrows raised, and drums her fingers impatiently on the table. ¡°Alyssa MacKenzie Gray,¡± she says in her crisp accent, each word sharp and well-pronounced. ¡°What on earth do you think you are doing?¡±Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    The teacher¡¯s eyebrows shoot up, and she stares at Marya with a smile quirking at the corners of her mouth. I think she¡¯s happy that Marya got me to raise my head, and I instantly drop it back to my chest again, trying to stop my cheeks from burning.


    ¡°Don¡¯t put your head down on me, Lyssy,¡± Marya snaps, and I clamp my jaw shut to keep myself from screaming at her.


    ¡°You¡¯re not in preschool anymore,¡± she says harshly. ¡°You are eighteen years old, and so far above this.¡±


    I say nothing, which seems to make Marya even madder. ¡°You think you can just be silent and I¡¯ll give up and walk away, huh?¡± she says with a snort. ¡°Where did this come from, Lyssy?¡± she demands. ¡°First you ditch class this morning and refuse to tell me where you went, and now this.¡± She gives a bitter laugh. ¡°Oh, the mysteries of Alyssa Gray.¡±


    I hear Marya say to the teacher, ¡°Can you leave us alone, a second, please?¡±


    ¡°Are you sure you have this under control?¡±


    ¡°Of course I have this under control. I wouldn¡¯t ask you to leave if I didn¡¯t.¡±


    It¡¯s all that I can do to keep myself from snorting. Marya has nothing under her control. Neither do I.


    I hear the door swing shut, and her footsteps fade away. When she is out of earshot, Marya grabs my chin and forces it up, and I find myself staring into Marya¡¯s dark, accusing eyes.


    ¡°I¡¯m waiting for an explanation, Lyssy,¡± she says pointedly. ¡°Followed by an apology.¡±


    ¡°Apology for what?¡± I whisper hoarsely, hearing the cutting edge to my voice, but doing nothing to fight it. ¡°Ditching class? ¡®Cause you do that all the time.¡±


    ¡°Apologize for keeping secrets from me,¡± she demands, her dark eyes burning into my skin. ¡°Apologize for not telling me-your best friend-where you went this morning.¡±


    She lets go of my head, and crosses her arms, and I drop my head back down to my chest again to show her that I¡¯m not doing anything.


    ¡°Okay, put your head back down on me,¡± she spits violently, and I grind my teeth together to keep tears from spilling out. ¡°Marya, don¡¯t be ridiculous,¡± I murmur under my breath.


    ¡°Ridiculous?¡± Marya says with a harsh laugh. ¡°Ridiculous? Why don¡¯t you get up and walk downstairs to dinner, and then you can call me ridiculous as much as you want.¡±


    I open my mouth to answer, but before I can, the door bangs open, and I see a boy with dark chocolate skin and black eyes framed in the doorway. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen him before, but when he opens his mouth to speak, and I hear his deep voice, I recognize him immediately as the boy who sits at my desk.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t help but overhear-¡± he says, and I feel a feeling ripple through me that I don¡¯t recognize, although I tell myself that it¡¯s anger, because he shouldn¡¯t have been eavesdropping. Then Marya cuts him off with her sharp, criticizing voice. ¡°What do you mean you couldn¡¯t help it?¡± she snaps. ¡°Of course you could help it.¡±


    He frowns, and tilts his head to the side a bit, but I can tell that her words didn¡¯t really affect him. ¡°No, I really am sorry, I didn¡¯t mean any offense.¡±


    Marya¡¯s voice is dripping with sarcasm. ¡°Yeah, right.¡± She glowers at him, her eyes blazing. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°I just want to see if she¡¯s okay. I saw her in class and was a bit worried about her.¡±


    I feel bitterness wash over me. Who does he think he is? I¡¯m not a baby that people can cheer on and encourage. I don¡¯t want his sympathy. I just want to be alone.


    I drop my head down again, hoping that he¡¯ll get the point and walk off. I don¡¯t see his face, but he falls silent, and I think he sees me. Then, after a moment, I hear him say to Marya, ¡°Hey, maybe we should just give her some space.¡±


    I feel Marya¡¯s hand tighten on my shoulder, and her voice is seething with anger as she responds. ¡°She doesn¡¯t need space,¡± Marya says loudly. ¡°She needs to get up and join the world.¡±


    ¡°Maybe she¡¯s not ready for that yet,¡± he says, his voice slow and steady.


    ¡°Then I need to make her ready,¡± Marya says, her voice barely below a yell. I hear her heels thunk against the ground, and I know that she has jumped off of the desk and is walking towards the boy. ¡°I don¡¯t need your help,¡± she snaps violently.


    He is quiet for a moment, but then he says, ¡°Alright, I understand.¡± Another silence. ¡°But-¡± He cuts off abruptly, and I wait for him to say more, but he doesn¡¯t. Then I hear the door swing shut, and I know that he must have left.


    Then silence. I know Marya is waiting for me to say something, but I say nothing.


    ¡°Well? Do you have anything to say?¡±


    I don¡¯t reply. My brain is spinning, but I¡¯m glad that he¡¯s gone.


    ¡°Alyssa Gray, what in the world do you think you will accomplish?¡±


    And something about those words slice through my haziness, and one thing becomes perfectly clear.


    What will I accomplish?


    Nothing.


    What will I gain?


    Nothing.


    Anything that I accomplish will worm its way out of my fingers and leave me in the dust. Anywhere I go in life will only be yanked out from beneath my feet.


    Still, I say nothing.

 Chapter 2

    I hear rhythmic footfalls down the hall, and I let my head slip forwards, closing my eyes as if I am asleep. The door creaks open, and the principle¡¯s strong perfume overwhelms me the moment she enters the room.


    A loud whisper. ¡°She¡¯s asleep.¡± I think it¡¯s my teacher.


    The principal speaks in a quieter voice. ¡°Something isn¡¯t right about this. She¡¯s never done this before.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s wake her up,¡± my teacher says strongly, and I hear her walking briskly towards me. I close my eyes tighter, my heart thumping against my chest. I wish she would leave me alone. I wish she would wait until I wake up on my own. But no, she¡¯s shaking me now, she wants me to wake up, but I can¡¯t. I never want to wake up anymore.


    ¡°Stop.¡±


    The shaking stops suddenly.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t we let her sleep?¡± the principal suggests, quieter this time. ¡°God knows she needs it.¡±


    ¡°I have classes to teach in this classroom this evening,¡± the teacher snaps. ¡°And I will not have her in here sleeping through them.¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course, but that¡¯s not for another two hours. Trust me.¡±


    There is an awkward silence, and I take a shaky breath, willing the world to stop spinning wildly around me.


    ¡°In one hour, we¡¯ll come back and see what she has to say for herself,¡± the principal says firmly, and I hear footsteps exiting, and the door creaking shut behind them.


    I look up blearily. The classroom is darkening, night is coming. The desks are neatly put into place, and the chairs pushed in behind them. The whiteboard has a series of equations on it that have not yet been erased. I suck in a deep breath, and turn around, grabbing my backpack off of the ground, and slipping my hand through the many pockets and grabbing out my phone.


    My hands are trembling so violently I can hardly hold it. I jab the letters ¡®needfreedom123¡¯ into the passcode section, and flip through the contacts section. I want to cry, but my eyes are completely dry.


    Clare Gray. Call.


    I press the phone to my ear, squeezing my eyes shut and falling back against the chair. I can¡¯t do this. I will never be able to do this.


    The phone begins to beep.


    ¡°Alyssa.¡± A sharp hoarse voice knocks me backwards, and I struggle to breath, terror coursing through me. My heart is knocking violently at my chest, but I can¡¯t let it out. Not to her. Not to Mum.


    ¡°Mum,¡± I whisper, clutching the phone so hard that my knuckles gleam white. ¡°Mum,¡± I say again, louder this time.


    ¡°I know, Alyssa, your teacher called me explaining it. Now if you please, I have a meeting-¡±


    She won¡¯t understand. No one will ever understand. Everything is falling apart, tumbling down right in front of me, I can¡¯t do it anymore. She thinks this is about my misbehavior. She won¡¯t understand, won¡¯t accept what I have to say. The phone slips from my fingers, and hits the desk, and I grab it and jerk it to my ear again.


    ¡°Mum,¡± I say, my voice rising. I leap up off the desk and stand there for a moment, clutching the phone with all of the strength I can muster. ¡°Mum, this isn¡¯t about that. I need to talk to you now. Right now.¡±


    ¡°Alyssa,¡± she says fiercely. ¡°I told you I¡¯m in a meeting. Can¡¯t this wait until later?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I cry, kicking the chair violently under the desk. ¡°No, it can¡¯t.¡±The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°What is it then?¡± Her impatience slices through my misery, and bitterness courses through me.


    I open my mouth to say something, but I can¡¯t. The words have disappeared. I choke back bile, struggling to form the words, but I can¡¯t. I just stand there wordlessly, emptily, silently, unable to say it. Unable to tell her anything.


    ¡°Come on Alyssa,¡± Mum cries, and her voice is so loud that she¡¯s practically screaming. I stumble backwards into the wall, and crumple to the floor. My phone slips out of my fingers and hits the floor with a crack, and I bury my head in my hands and rock back and forth. I want to cry so bad now, but the tears refuse to come.


    I close my eyes, letting the world swirl around me for a second, and then I open them again, gritting my jaw together in determination. I grab my phone, and jab the password into it, each letter I type ripping my heart into smaller and smaller pieces. ¡°Mum,¡± I yell, and I clench my teeth together so hard that my jaw starts throbbing in pain. ¡°Mum, I¡¯m dying.¡±


    I want her to say something, want her to comfort me, want her to tell me that it would all be okay, but there is only silence. Finally, in a deathly still whisper, she says, ¡°What?¡±


    The world is spinning wildly, I can¡¯t hold on. I¡¯m falling, I¡¯m sinking. I collapse in a ball on the floor and say, ¡°I got the results back from the doctor this morning.¡±


    ¡°Alyssa, stop this insanity right now. I don¡¯t have time for this.¡± Her words slice right into my heart, and pain explodes over my body. I clasp the phone to my heart, closing my eyes and praying to myself that she¡¯ll understand, that she¡¯ll get it.


    It¡¯s not insanity, Mum,¡± I cry, banging my fist furiously against the wall. ¡°It¡¯s true, it¡¯s true, it¡¯s all true.¡± I¡¯m shrieking now, pounding my and the sound of it echoing tauntingly back at me. I would do anything to cry right now.


    ¡°Stop making all that noise,¡± she screams, and I hear the sound of her banging down the receiver. Agony hits me like a tidal wave, and cold horror shoots through my blood. I yank the phone back, staring at her flashing name in terrified anguish. The phone gives a beep to tell me that she¡¯s gone.


    ¡°I have leukemia,¡± I whisper in horror to myself, grabbing my knees and holding them so tightly that they begin to turn numb. ¡°I have leukemia,¡± I say again, louder this time, throwing the phone on the floor with a yell. I can¡¯t do it, my heart is thumping wildly, I can¡¯t hold it in anymore. I¡¯m screaming, I¡¯m pounding my fists against the wall, I¡¯ve never felt so alone. ¡°I have leukemia,¡± I shriek, and I grab my phone and pound it against the wall wildly. The phone cracks, pieces of plastic flake off, and I leap up, stomping my feet furiously on the phone. ¡°You don¡¯t care, you don¡¯t care what I have to say, leukemia, leukemia, leukemia.¡±


    I collapse on the ground again, holding my head and sinking back against the wall, the fury suddenly draining out of me. I feel numbness race over my body, and overwhelming loneliness hits me right in the stomach. Words zip through my head, each one twisted and bitter, and my heart races within me. Acute lymphocytic leukemia...won¡¯t live past twenty...bone-marrow test...swollen lymph nodes...biologic therapy...nothing we can do...live life while you can...I grab my stomach, gasping for air, drowning beneath a sea of memories.


    I grab my phone, and stare at the shattered screen, clicking the on button furiously and squeezing my eyes shut, begging it to turn on. But the phone remains black. I throw it back onto the floor, and bury my head in my hands, rocking slowly back and forth, back and forth. My breathing slows, my heart stops thumping as wildly, and misery takes over, creeping at my heat and yanking any happiness that¡¯s left away from me. I don¡¯t know how long I sit there, listening with despair to the beating of my heart, but the minutes creep by, each one leaving me more miserable than before.


    I find myself humming a song that Marya used to play when she was younger. She used to say that she liked the creepy feeling that it gave her. The words echo through my soul, and violent trembling seizes me. ¡°If I die young,¡± I whisper hoarsely, and my voice cracks and I drop my head to my chest, choking back bile. I start again, ¡°If I die young, bury me in satin, lay me down on a bed of roses¡­¡± I lean my head back against the wall, pulling my knees to my chest and staring at the stars twinkling from the skylight. ¡°Sink me in the river at dawn and send me away with the words of a love song.¡±


    Footsteps down the hall. My whole body tenses, and I stare at the door with narrowed eyes, clenching my teeth together and hoping that it won¡¯t be Marya behind it. The words die from my lips.


    The door swings open, and I turn around to see who it is, staring blearily up at the figure in the doorway. It¡¯s the boy at my desk again. Anger burns through me, and I wish he would leave me alone. I¡¯m not his concern.


    He speaks, and his voice is husky and deep. ¡°The Band Perry, huh?¡±


    I stare at the ground beside me in silence.


    Then he looks me directly in the eyes, and begins to sing.


    ¡°A penny for my thoughts, oh no I''ll sell them for a dollar


    They''re worth so much more after I''m a goner


    And maybe then you''ll hear the words I been singin''


    Funny when you''re dead how people start listenin'' ¡°

 Chapter 3

    I close my eyes, sucking in a deep breath of air and look at the boy. He¡¯s looking at me with his face tilted in confusion, but in an expression that I think is supposed to be kind. I don¡¯t want to hear him sing, I don¡¯t want him to try to comfort me. I¡¯m so sick of being a test case. I just want to be alone. I just want to cry.


    ¡°My name¡¯s Joshua,¡± he says, taking a step nearer to me. I refuse to acknowledge his presence, staring down at my feet. ¡°What¡¯s yours?¡±


    Again, I don¡¯t answer. I drop my head down to my chest like I did earlier. I hate the way his singing makes me feel.


    He doesn¡¯t answer, but his footsteps get louder, and I know that he is coming nearer to me. ¡°You know,¡± he says, and I hear him plop down on a chair next to me. ¡°Why not try listening to something more cheerful? You should listen to things that are going to be encouraging to you.¡±


    I stare at my knees with bitterness seeping into my heart. I don¡¯t want to listen to different music. I have my life, I have my interests, I have my music. He can¡¯t just butt his way in and wrench it away from me. I don¡¯t look up.


    He sighs, and I hear his feet thunk against the ground and know that he has stood up again. ¡°Why not give it a try? I¡¯ll make you a list of my favorite songs when I have time.¡±


    I look up at him, my face twisted in anger. ¡°Please don¡¯t,¡± I whisper, kicking the desk. ¡°Please, please don¡¯t.¡±


    He tilts his head, looking confused, and I put my hand to my forehead, another wave of despair crashing over me. I don¡¯t know what he¡¯s going to say, but I don¡¯t want to hear it. I¡¯m tired of hearing him speak. I just want him to leave. I just want to be left be.


    We sit there in silence for a long time, staring at each other. I struggle to keep myself from screaming, misery ripping my heart into tattered shreds. Why will he not get the point and leave me alone? I¡¯ve only known him for a minute, but already, he¡¯s trying to control my music. I can live my life without his help. I only have a few months to live it, I won¡¯t let him live them for me.


    Joshua begins humming something that is supposed to be cheerful, and I shake my head and fall back, desperately trying to figure out what to do. ¡°Stop it,¡± I say finally. ¡°I don¡¯t want to hear you sing.¡±


    His eyebrows knit together and he gives a weak smile, but the gloom only seems to get more thick. ¡°That¡¯s okay, then, I won¡¯t sing.¡±


    I shake my head desperately. ¡°Please just go away,¡± I beg, clasping my trembling hands together and staring up at him with my face twisted in agony. ¡°Whatever you want, I can¡¯t give it.¡±


    He stands up, staring down at me with a look on his face that I know is supposed to be sympathy. It only makes my heart curl with anger, because I don¡¯t need his sympathy. I don¡¯t want his kindness. ¡°I just want to be able to help you,¡± he says loudly, kneeling down and making a move to grab my hand. I yank it away, staring up at him with my cheeks burning.


    ¡°Stop it.¡± I shove him away, grabbing the desk and pulling myself to my feet. ¡°Just stop trying to help. You can¡¯t change anything.¡±


    He stands up too, and looks at me for a second with his arms hanging limply at his sides. ¡°Are you sure? I could-¡±


    I cut him off, pushing past him in desperate attempt to get to the door. Each word he says makes me feel more horrible inside. I can¡¯t take it anymore. ¡°I said, you can¡¯t change anything. Nothing you do is going to work.¡±


    His face falls, he looks disappointed. He doesn¡¯t even care about my problems, just fixing them. He doesn¡¯t care about me either, just being the teacher¡¯s pet who finally manages to get me out of the classroom. I hate him. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°Hey, wait.¡± He grabs my hand, and I swirl around. Sorrow overcomes me and I can¡¯t take it anymore, I fall backwards and hit against a desk. ¡°I said stop it,¡± I yell, my face twisting in anguish. ¡°I¡¯m not going to get up, okay?¡±


    He shakes his head in bafflement, and stumbles backwards. ¡°Okay, okay, calm down.¡± He gives a nervous laugh, as if he¡¯s trying to turn it into a joke, but it¡¯s not funny. I¡¯m not a joke. I¡¯m a girl with leukemia.


    ¡°Just leave me alone,¡± I cry, stumbling backwards and away from him.


    ¡°No,¡± he cries back, his voice deafeningly loud. ¡°I¡¯m not leaving, Alyssa. You need to know that there are people here for you.¡±


    I stare at him in revulsion. ¡°Here for me? I don¡¯t even know who you are.¡± I hit my fist against the desk and slide away from him. ¡°You are not here for me, you are here to fix me.¡± I¡¯m screaming now, but I don¡¯t care anymore. ¡°Look at me. Look, like actually look. I¡¯m not just someone sad, someone who¡¯s problems need to be solved, I¡¯m a person. I¡¯m a girl. Why don¡¯t you stop to ask me how I feel, instead of just intruding on my personal life?¡±


    He stumbles backwards, his face shocked and hurt. My heart twists within me, I want to say more, want to tell him I¡¯m sorry, but I don¡¯t. I want him to leave, want him to walk away and never come back. But he still stands there, staring at me and shaking his head with wonder. ¡°Alyssa, I¡¯m sorry, you¡¯re right, I haven¡¯t been-¡±


    I thrust my hand up for him to stop. ¡°I don¡¯t want to hear it.¡± I hate him, I hate what he has to say, I don¡¯t want to hear him apologize and then start doing it again. I just want him to leave. If I listen to another sickly sweet word he says, I¡¯m going to vomit.


    He stops abruptly, and stands there for a moment as if trying to figure out what to do. Then he backs up and sits down on a desk, staring at me with his dark eyes. I wait for him to say something, but he stays silent.


    I stare at him, my fingers curling into fists. What does he think I¡¯m going to do, pretend he¡¯s not there? I stand up and run towards the door, grabbing the handle and swinging it open. There. He got me out of the classroom, now the teacher will be happy. But my happiness isn¡¯t his concern.


    The moment I¡¯m out of his sight, I break down. I fall against the wall, the world is spinning wildly around me, I can hardly stand. I would do anything to cry right now, but my eyes are completely dry. I struggle to breathe, I¡¯m trembling violently. It¡¯s over. It¡¯s really over. But then again, it¡¯s not.


    I stumble towards the steps, running down them wildly and down the halls. Everyone is at dinner now, my dorm should be empty. I turn the corner and scan the halls, running to my door and throwing it open, collapsing on the bottom of the bunk bed. I have several hours before Marya finishes dinner.


    I pull the crisp sheets over me, my skin is ice cold. I wait for warmth to spread up my body, but it never comes. I lie there for several minutes staring up at the fraying mattress above me with despair creeping over my skin. I¡¯m sweating profusely, despite how cold I feel.


    The boy still has not followed me.


    I can¡¯t lay there. My body won¡¯t let me sit still anymore. I swing my feet over the side, and leap out of bed, hurrying to the window. Several people are playing games down below, but it¡¯s mostly empty. I¡¯m alone. I wanted to be alone.


    The door flies open, and I swirl around in shock when I see who it is. It¡¯s him again. It¡¯s Joshua. I stumble backwards, I can¡¯t do it. I can¡¯t face him, can¡¯t listen to his horrible efforts to control my life, to change my music. He must have seen me come in here.


    ¡°Alyssa-¡± he stammers, stepping towards me.


    I back away, my hand brushing the window cell. ¡°I don¡¯t want to talk right now, Joshua,¡± I cry, pounding on the wall with my fist. ¡°Whatever you have to say, please don¡¯t.¡±


    His face twists in strained anger, and he pushes towards me. ¡°It¡¯s not like that, Alyssa, I just want to help.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing you can do,¡± I yell, stepping angrily him. ¡°And will you please shut up and leave me alone, because we¡¯ve already had this conversation and I¡¯m sick and tired of repeating it.¡±


    He sighs and stares at me, shaking his head slightly. ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re right, we have. Just...let me know if you ever want to talk about anything, okay?¡±


    I don¡¯t respond, because my reply is obvious enough. I never want to talk to him, never want to hear him try to push his way into my life again. I¡¯m done with him. I don¡¯t ever want to see him again.


    He nods, and I think he¡¯s trying to understand, but he doesn¡¯t. He doesn¡¯t understand a thing. He slowly slides the door closed, and pats his hand firmly against the door before I hear his footsteps walking briskly away.


    I sink back against the wall, struggling for breath. ¡°He¡¯s gone now,¡± I whisper to myself. ¡°He¡¯s gone now.¡± I hope, I desperately hope, that he will be willing to make it stay that way. One more word from him and I know I¡¯ll crack. It¡¯s going to swallow me up.

 Chapter 4

    It¡¯s the middle of the night. I jerk up, and look around, wondering what woke me. I hear Marya¡¯s quiet snoring in the bunk above. I wonder what she thought when she came in and saw me here. What she felt. What she¡¯ll say in the morning.


    But then I see the doorknob slowly turn and I realize why I awoke. There is someone outside my door.


    I sit there with goosebumps creeping over my skin, clamping my jaw together and praying that it isn¡¯t that boy again. But I know he wouldn¡¯t come in in the middle of the night.


    The door swings open, and I recognize the principle. She sees me sitting up, and her sharp blue eyes narrow. ¡°Alyssa, I¡¯m sorry to wake you,¡± she says in a low voice, and I can tell she¡¯s trying not to wake Marya. ¡°But your mother is outside. Come on, quickly.¡±


    I stare at her with wide eyes. Everything is falling apart, I knew this would happen, but I can¡¯t talk to her. I¡¯ll never be able to talk to her. I try to stand up but I can¡¯t move. I just sit there and stare at her, fear flooding over me.


    Her eyebrows shoot up, and she steps abruptly forwards, grabbing my arm and pulling me up. ¡°Don¡¯t go back to that, Alyssa.¡±


    I shake my head in disbelief. My head is aching, I can¡¯t do this anymore. I don¡¯t want to talk to her. Don¡¯t want to face her questions. I¡¯m done with that. It¡¯s over.


    I stagger to my feet, clutching my stomach and staggering out the door. I¡¯ve never felt so nauseated, never felt so empty, never felt so alone. She follows me, and the moment that we are out of the room, she swings the door shut, looking at me with an abrupt nod. ¡°Alright, Alyssa,¡± the principle says, and she walks hurriedly away.


    ¡°Alyssa.¡±


    Cold shock shoots through me, and I spin around, stumbling backwards when I see her standing there. It¡¯s Mum. She came for me. My heart is banging so wildly at my chest that it¡¯s a wonder she can¡¯t hear it. I can¡¯t talk to her. I can¡¯t talk to Mum.


    She¡¯s standing there with her arms crossed and her eyes wide with fear and disbelief. She takes a step closer to me, brushing my cheek with her long, cold fingers. I yank myself away, staring at her in horror. She¡¯s here. She¡¯s really here.


    ¡°What on earth happened earlier?¡± she says. She¡¯s trying to be strong, but there¡¯s an unmistakeable tremble in her voice. ¡°What was that about?¡±


    I stare at her with my eyes growing wider. I open my mouth to speak, but I can¡¯t. I¡¯m frozen to the ground, I can¡¯t move. I know I have to tell her, but I can¡¯t. Her heart will never ache for me like mine does. ¡°I...I have leukemia.¡± The words spill out, each one cutting into my skin deeper and deeper. ¡°Acute lymphocytic leukemia. The doctor says I¡¯m dying. I¡¯m not going to make it past age twenty.¡±


    She shakes her head fiercely, closing her eyes. I can see she¡¯s struggling to stay calm, to stay cool, but she¡¯s afraid. I know she¡¯s afraid. ¡°That¡¯s impossible, Alyssa, you¡¯re perfectly healthy.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I stamp my foot on the ground. I knew she¡¯d insist that, knew she¡¯d refuse to accept it. But she was wrong. She¡¯d always been wrong. Denying my sickness would never stop it from devouring me. ¡°No, Mum, I¡¯m not.¡±


    She sucks in a huge breath, putting her hands out in front of her and clearly trying to look confident. ¡°Look, surely the doctors can-¡±


    ¡°I told you, they can¡¯t,¡± I cry, stepping towards her with my face contorting in agony. ¡°You couldn¡¯t afford me college, and you can¡¯t afford me chemo, that¡¯s just the way it is, Mum, you have to deal with it.¡±


    ¡°Alyssa,¡± she says sharply, her hands dropping suddenly to her sides. ¡°Alyssa, I can-¡±


    ¡°No, you can¡¯t,¡± I yell. Hatred is pulsing through me, I don¡¯t understand why she can¡¯t at least try to understand how I feel. ¡°I don¡¯t need your filthy money.¡±


    She recoils as if she had been slapped, and she stares at me with her eyes a blaze of fire. ¡°Alyssa, stop being ridiculous, don¡¯t you want to get well?¡± She lurches backwards, her jaw clenched tightly. My hands are shaking, I want to punch her so bad, but I can¡¯t. I press them to my sides and struggle to breathe. She¡¯s faking it. She knows exactly what I mean.


    ¡°Biologic therapy,¡± I snap finally. ¡°That¡¯s what they''re doing. But it¡¯s not going to work.¡±


    ¡°What is it? Why won¡¯t it work?¡± Her voice is bitter and on edge, her face flushed with anger.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what it is,¡± I say through gritted teeth. I lift my head up and look her directly in the eye. ¡°But I know it won¡¯t work.¡±


    She shakes her head strongly, and starts walking away, gesturing her hand for me to follow her. I run to catch up with her, grabbing her hand and pulling her back. ¡°Alyssa,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯m taking you home.¡±


    I drop her hand in shock, backing up and shaking my head in disbelief. ¡°Wha- what? No, why?¡±


    She gives a dramatic sigh, shaking her head like it should be obvious. ¡°You¡¯re sick, Alyssa, do you really think you can just stay at school and pretend that everything is normal? Shouldn¡¯t you be spending your last days with me?¡±


    My heart explodes in my chest, and I can¡¯t hold it in anymore, I¡¯m screaming now. ¡°And maybe I¡¯d rather spend my last days without you.¡± I don¡¯t look at her face, I just fly down the hall, my hair splaying out behind me. I can barely even feel myself running, it¡¯s more like I¡¯m gliding, like I¡¯m not touching the ground at all. Like I can never touch the ground again. But she¡¯s gone. I¡¯m running away from her. I don¡¯t want to ever see her revolting smile again.


    I don¡¯t stop, I just keep running, keep flying, keep desperately trying to grab on, but I can¡¯t. I¡¯m leaving her. I¡¯m running from her. I race around the corner, and there¡¯s Marya, standing there with her curved fingers resting on her hips and a deep, criticizing frown on her face. ¡°Alyssa,¡± she shrieks, and I screech to a stop, but I can¡¯t slow down in time, and I find myself thudding into her. We both tumble to the floor.


    ¡°Alyssa,¡± she yells again, popping right back up again and glaring at me with her face twisted in angry confusion. ¡°Alyssa, what was that?¡±


    I stumble to my feet, grabbing her shoulder and staring at her with big eyes. A cold chill creeps over my body, and I want so much to curl back up under my covers. ¡°I thought you were asleep,¡± I whisper hoarsely.


    She stamps her foot fiercely against the ground. ¡°I got up when you got up, Alyssa. ¡±


    Despair floods over me, and I struggle to breathe, yanking my head up and staring her in the eye. ¡°Please don¡¯t be mad, Marya. About what happened earlier...I-¡±


    ¡°How the hell do you expect me not to be mad?¡±


    I can¡¯t explain it again. I¡¯m sick and tired of repeating it, of seeing their faces, hearing their shocked voices. I don¡¯t want Marya to know, don¡¯t want to see her distress, her anger. I can¡¯t see that again. I say nothing.


    Tears are slipping down her cheeks, she shakes her head wildly. ¡°Being quiet is not going to help you Alyssa,¡± she screams.


    I lower my head in shame, hating the way that she looks at me. I didn¡¯t want this. I didn¡¯t ask for this. I just want to be healthy, I just wanted to be safe. But I can¡¯t. I can¡¯t even cry.


    Heavy footsteps echo behind me, and I swirl around to see Mum. I shake my head desperately and pitch backwards, I can¡¯t do this, I can¡¯t face her. Not in front of Marya.


    ¡°Alyssa, you are coming home right now,¡± she demands fiercely, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards her.


    Bile is rising in my throat, I yank myself away from her, clenching my teeth together and hoping desperately that I will cry. ¡°I said no,¡± I yell.


    Marya butts in front of us, horror spreading across her face, staring from Mum to me, and then back to Mum. ¡°What are you talking about, what¡¯s going on?¡± She grabs my shoulder and pulls me towards her, spinning me around and glaring at me with her eyebrows furrowed together. ¡°What is this about going home, Alyssa?¡±


    ¡°She has leukemia,¡± Mum cries, turning around and staring at Marya. ¡°She¡¯s going to spend her last days with me.¡±


    Marya¡¯s face blanches, and she stares at Mum in horrified disbelief. ¡°Why, that¡¯s ridiculous,¡± she says in a cold, but somehow trembling voice. ¡°That¡¯s absurd.¡± I knew Marya would refuse to accept it. Knew she would try to cover the truth. But no matter how much she tries to deny it, it¡¯s the truth. There¡¯s nothing she can do. Nothing anyone can do. It¡¯s over.


    ¡°I know,¡± Mum says to Marya, and she grabs my shoulder, pulling me roughly towards her. ¡°I know that very well.¡±


    ¡°Why is she going home?¡± Marya cries, her face glowing red with anger. ¡°You know she¡¯d prefer to be here.¡± I stare up at her and nod quickly, grabbing her hand and squeezing it. Everything is shaking, I know Marya shouldn¡¯t have said that, but I love her for it. I heave in a thick breath, and turn to Mum, who¡¯s lips are curled into a sneer..


    ¡°I¡¯m her mother,¡± Mum says stoutly, tilting her head and looking threateningly at Marya. ¡°I can do whatever I want. The papers have already been filled out, everything is settled. She¡¯s coming with me,¡±


    Marya¡¯s eyes narrow. Her face screws up, her muscles begin to shake, she¡¯s furious. My eyes widen, I know she¡¯s going to burst out again, like she¡¯s done so many times before. But I can¡¯t let her. She can¡¯t do that in front of Mum. Mum would never forgive her. I grab Marya¡¯s hand and pull her back, pleading with my eyes for her to stop, for her to think about what she¡¯s doing.


    Marya stops abruptly, lowering her arm slowly and simply glaring at my mother with hatred burning in her eyes. ¡°Take her if you want her so bad,¡± she hisses, and she turns and stares at me with terror obvious in her eyes. I know she¡¯s going to hate me for making her say that, but I don¡¯t care. I did the right thing.


    Marya tosses her head, slowly clenching and unclenching her fists. She stares at Mum for a long time, and then strides away, and I hear the door of our dorm swing shut a moment later.


    Mum turns to me, her dark eyes narrowed and her face a strange mixture of anger and fear. ¡°That Marya¡­¡± she says to me in a low whisper. ¡°How many times have I told you she¡¯s a bad influence?¡±


    ¡°Because what?¡± I cry, thumping my fist against the wall. ¡°Because she knows what you¡¯re doing behind my back? Because she actually wants to be with me?¡±


    Mum doesn¡¯t answer, just grabs my hand and drags me down the hall.

 Chapter 5

    Mum doesn¡¯t say a word to me all drive.  She doesn¡¯t even look at me.  Her eyes are fixed directly ahead of her, her hands on the steering wheel, trembling slightly.  She cries at one point, and her mascara smears across her face.  She hates crying, she says it¡¯s wimpy, but here she is now, tears dripping down her cheeks.  They make me feel good, somehow.  Like she¡¯ll miss me.  Like she wants me.


    The ride goes by in silence.  I wrap my arms around my knees and stare bitterly out the window, swaying slowly from side to side.  I keep hearing the words of the song playing again and again.  If I die young...sink me in the river...sing me away with the words of a love song¡­.  I don¡¯t want to hear that song.  Don¡¯t want to think about the horrible person that sang them.  But it keeps playing again and again, each word haunting me, mocking me with fallen hopes and shattered dreams, telling me that I¡¯m not worth it and I¡¯m going to lose everything.  Funny when I¡¯m dead how people will start listening.


    The tires screech and I jerk my head up when I find that we¡¯ve stopped.  My whole body is shaking, my muscles tense with fear.  I can¡¯t bear to look.  I squeeze my eyes shut, shoving the horrible memories out of my thoughts and forcing myself to lift my head up.  To look.


    Everything is exactly the same.  The grass is the same dry brown color.  The plastic gnome with its paint peeling  is still there, although now it has toppled over.  The garage is the same huge size that Mum used to joke about.  And the house.  I choke, my voice cracking.  ¡°Mum,¡± I say softly, my voice barely a whisper.  ¡°Mum.¡±


    ¡°I know, Alyssa,¡± she says abruptly, cutting past me.  ¡°Welcome back.¡±


    Memories shoot through my mind.  A blur of racing thoughts, colors, feelings, memories, each one strange and detached.  I didn¡¯t want this.  I didn¡¯t ask for this.  I want to be back at school, to be with Marya, to be away from Mum.  But no, Mum¡¯s looking at me with her dark, cold eyes.  My heart flutters sharply against my chest, I think I¡¯m going to vomit.    I¡¯m home.  I¡¯m really home.


    I stumble after her, the wet grass squishing beneath my feet.  The orange glow of the streetlight glistens on Mum¡¯s face; I can barely breathe.  I manage to put one foot in front of the other, my hands shaking wildly, and my fingers close over the door handle.  Mum is watching me carefully, her eyes narrowed, I want to say something to her, but the words wither off my lips and into the still night air.  I¡¯m so tired.  I want to swing open the door and run up to my room and sleep on my bed tonight.  My bed.  But somehow, the thought is too bitter to think about for long.


    I fling the door open, and a loud creak shatters the silence.  The room is dark, I can barely see, but light glows from the door and the room slowly takes shape.  The rose-colored sofa smashed into the corner.  The grandfather clock that I notice she finally fixed.  Trash littered everywhere.  The spiral staircase that I always used to trip on.  The faded blue rug and the too-glossy wooden table in the center of the room.  My hand flickers over the doorway, I turn around and meet Mum¡¯s eyes, barely able to stop myself from falling over.


    She pushes past me with her hand, her heels clunking against the ground.  She flips the light switch and light flood the room, my eyes begin to burn.  Mum strides briskly over to the couch, pushing aside several cans of beer and handing me a warm coke can.  I reach to grab it, but my hands are shaking too hard;  it slips out of my hand and white foam spills out of it, little bubbles popping on my feet.


    She sighs, and bends down to the ground, her forehead creased.  She looks up and me, and shakes her head briefly, dipping her finger in the sticky liquid, chewing her lip hard.  ¡°Typical,¡± I hear her say under her breath, and my heart lurches.  I hope that she will say more, but she doesn¡¯t, she just stands up and gestures towards the kitchen.  ¡°Mop it up, will you?¡±


    I nod and walk slowly into the kitchen, my brain fuzzy like a grey carpet has settled over it.  I grab a rag from the drawer and slowly go back to the living room, stumbling to the floor and bringing the rag slowly over the dark juice.  I set the can on the desk next to me and take a sip, but I can barely choke it down.


    Mum walks out from the other room and plops down on the couch, waving her hand for me to sit down next to her.  I put the wipe down on the desk and slip across the room onto the couch, clasping my hands together with all the strength I can muster.  ¡°Yeah?¡± I whisper slowly, my heart thrashing within me.  I fall back against the couch, wrapping my arms around my knees and staring up at her, wanting, wishing, dreaming.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    She puts her head up, and meets my eyes, and I see fear shining out of them.  I pull my head away and stare down at my knees, twisting my hands together with my whole body shaking violently.


    ¡°Alyssa,¡± Mum says softly, reaching a bony white hand out and grabbing my hand.  I let my fingers curl around her hand, resisting the urge to pull my hand away.  ¡°Alyssa,¡± she says again.


    I don¡¯t say anything, just letting my hand rest in hers and waiting for her to say more.  Somehow, I¡¯m not in any hurry.


    ¡°So,¡± she says, and she lifts her hand up and brushed the hair out of my eyes like she did when I was younger.  She wraps her arm around my shoulders and looks me directly in the eyes.  ¡°I want to hear exactly what happened.¡±


    ¡°Well, I went to get the results from the bone marrow test, and he said that I had leukemia.  There.  That¡¯s it.¡±


    Her eyes narrow, she shakes her head slowly from side to side.  ¡°What bone marrow test?¡±


    I sit up straighter, my spine rigid in shock.  ¡°The one that I called you to tell you about last week.¡±


    Her mouth slowly opens, and then closes, she falls back against the couch and presses her lips thinly together, her eyes slicing into my skin.  ¡°I didn¡¯t think you were serious.  I thought you were- I mean, I thought-"


    ¡°I know what you thought,¡± I cry, standing up.  My whole body is screaming for her to recognize it, to acknowledge it, but she doesn¡¯t, just sinks her head in her hands and cries.  She¡¯s sad, hurt, but she still hasn¡¯t taken the time to ask me how I feel, to give me the hug I so desperately need.  It¡¯s been so long since I¡¯ve seen her, but she hasn¡¯t even told me that she missed me.


    ¡°Fine,¡± I hiss under my breath, and I plop back onto the couch and slam my back into the chair.  ¡°I had these little red dots all over my skin, and I kept getting all of these weird bruises and bleeding and stuff.¡±  I hold up my arm, and she slowly runs her finger along the little red specks.  ¡°I went to the doctor, obviously.¡±  I suck in a deep breath, managing to turn my head to look at her.  There¡¯s concern written on her face, she¡¯s staring at me attentively, but her eyes are full of fear.


    ¡°Oh yeah?¡± she prompts me slowly, each word slow and heavy, like struggling to balance a heavy weight.


    ¡°The doctor did a bunch of tests and stuff to test for different things  When I came back, he said that my white blood cell count was extremely low, and asked to feel my armpits, which were apparently swollen or something.  He said he thought it might be leukemia.¡±


    She sucks in a deep breath, her face twisted in pain.  A part of me doesn¡¯t want to continue, wants to save her from hearing the end, but then I know I don¡¯t want that.   Somehow I want to see her pain when she hears the whole story.  ¡°So he took a test.  He numbed my hip and gave me this thing to make me really drowsy and kind of forgetful, and then he ejected this stuff out of my bone.¡±


    ¡°Did it hurt?¡±


    I don¡¯t answer, instead tilting my head away and studying the ceiling fan.  ¡°Duh,¡± I say finally, twisting my finger around my hair.


    She chews her lip thoughtfully and raises her eyebrows.  ¡°Oh.¡±  She gives a weak laugh, but I know that it¡¯s fake.  Everything is fake.  She looks like she wants to say more, but she shuts her mouth again, just staring at me with her face twitching slightly.  ¡°Oh,¡± she says again.


    I grit my teeth together and desperately try to cry, but my eyes are still dry.  I don¡¯t say any more.


    We sit there in silence for a moment.  I clasp my hands together and stare at my lap, pressing my lips together.  She taps her finger against the couch and leans over me to to look me in the eye.  ¡°What then?¡±  she asks firmly.


    ¡°I already said that,¡± I hiss under my breath.


    She sinks back against the chair, muttering something under her breath.  ¡°They came back positive.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I say softly.


    ¡°Sooo¡­¡±


    I pucker my lips together, feeling strangely cold.  ¡°So what?¡±


    ¡°So what are you going to do now?¡±


    I rub my arms roughly, but no warmth spreads through my body.  What I do now won¡¯t matter anymore.  It doesn¡¯t matter what kind of crap I pursue, what kind of future I jump after, because in the end, I will be just another gravestone, just another statistic on a list of victims.  I say nothing.  Silence is enough.


    ¡°Thought so,¡± she says softly, and I take a small sip of coke, holding it in my mouth for a while before swallowing it.  ¡°Don¡¯t make too many plans, anyways.¡±


    I manage to choke out a small nod, and stand up from the couch, refusing to continue this conversation any longer.  ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t.¡±


    She smiles weakly, and closes her hands over the coke can, setting it down on the table besides her.  ¡°Go to bed now.¡±


    ¡°I will,¡± I say, and I don¡¯t wait for her to answer, just running towards the staircase and clinging to the grainy wooden railing with all of the strength still left in me.

 Chapter 6

    The sun burns my eyes the moment I slide them open.  I roll over into my pillow, sticking my hand out and fumbling to untie the curtains.  My room has changed more than perhaps anything else in the house.  It¡¯s empty, stripped clean.  Mum said that someone¡¯s going to come later today with my clothes and stuff, but still, it won¡¯t be the same.  I don¡¯t understand why she wouldn¡¯t let me pack my stuff from school before I came home.  I think she just wanted to get away from Marya, to feel like I¡¯m hers and hers alone.


    I run my fingers along the frame of my bed and stand up slowly, going to the window and staring down at the yard.  It¡¯s still early, mist covers the window, but I can see the shapes of the old swing, swaying gently in the morning air.  And there are the plastic gnomes again, their smiles too big to actually be real.  I stand up and fling open the door.


    The lights are off, Mum must still be asleep.  I stalk down the steps, flicking the lights on and plopping down on the couch.  I need to get away, need to be anywhere but here, so I fumble with the remote and turn on the television, sighing and sitting back when some dumb kids cartoon comes on.  I hum the songs lightly to myself, fixing my eyes on the screen and forcing myself to watch the characters, to pay attention to the story.


    I wonder what it will feel like to die.  Will my life ¡®flash before my eyes¡¯ like they say in stories?  Will I remember all of the happy moments, or only the sad ones?  Or will I remember anything at all?  Will it be a slow fading feeling, or will it be like the lights suddenly go out and I know that they¡¯ll never come back on?


    A shiver slowly settles over my body, I glue my eyes to the screen and don¡¯t look away.  ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± I say softly to myself, rubbing my hands up my arms to warm them.  ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡±


    My hands are restless to be doing something.  I shake off my slippers and lay them on the ground besides me, taking just a few seconds too long to arrange them next to the wall.  I click the volume button slowly up, and let the loud singing blare in my ears before finally turning it down again.  It may wake up Mum, but I don¡¯t care.  Let her see me try.


    I close my eyes and give a small smile, but it is just as fake as the idiot gnomes staring at the sky from the yard.  I don¡¯t know why I hate those gnomes so much, but I do.  When Marya and I first met in seventh grade, we would sit outside and throw stones at the gnomes, trying to knock them over.   Somehow we both found that funny.  But then Mum, who had been drinking a lot that day, grabbed Marya by the ear and dragged her out yelling about her gnomes, and after that Marya never came to my house.  It¡¯s dumb, I know, but somehow I hate looking at those gnomes and thinking of the constant fight over me that goes on between Mum and Marya.


    But the gnomes aren¡¯t what matter now.  Right now, the only thing that matters is about is the television, and the wonky dance that I¡¯m supposed to be copying.  I force myself to laugh at the ridiculousness of it, but there¡¯s nothing funny about it.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± I hear from the doorway, and my hand shoots to the pause button.  I manage to twist my lips up into a smile, and look up at her.


    ¡°You¡¯re watching Barney,¡± she cries loudly, her mouth open in obvious surprise.  ¡°That¡¯s stupid.  What kind of a seventeen year old girl watches Barney?¡±


    I don¡¯t even know anymore.  I just needed something to think about, something other than what was coming.  But I couldn¡¯t shut it out, no one can shut out death, it¡¯s coming for me, every second it¡¯s coming nearer.  It¡¯s going to destroy me.  But I don¡¯t say so.


    ¡°What is that, something that Marya watches?¡±  Her voice is dripping with bitterness.  ¡°She¡¯s a freak, Alyssa, I don¡¯t know how she¡¯s still stuck in the past watching this junk-¡± she gestures blandly at the television- ¡°but my daughter is not going to waste her time watching Barney.¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t about Marya,¡± I say furiously, my heart thumping wildly against my chest.  ¡°None of this is about Marya, forget Marya, this is about me.¡±


    She grimaces, her face twisting, and bangs herself down onto the couch next to me.  ¡°I do not take yelling in my house, Alyssa,¡± she says fiercely.  ¡°I¡¯m sorry about your condition, but just because you¡¯re special now doesn¡¯t give you the right to speak harshly to me.¡±


    My face blanches, I double over, feeling like I¡¯ve been slapped.  My cheeks are burning, I stand up stiffly and walk towards the kitchen, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing my face.  ¡°I¡¯ll make breakfast,¡± I say under my breath.


    ¡°Good girl.¡±


    ¡°Do you want eggs?¡±


    ¡°And bacon.¡±


    I stalk into the kitchen and scan the room for the eggs.  They¡¯re just where she¡¯s always keeps them, on top of the microwave.  I narrow my eyes, running towards them and snatching one of them, running my fingers over the smooth round surface.  There is already a pan on the stove, so I knock the egg against the counter, watching in silence as the hideous cracks sneak up the sides.  I plunge my finger into the shell, and rip the egg open, letting the slimy yoke fall down onto the pan.  This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    ¡°Two eggs, right?¡± I call.


    I hear her voice right behind me, and I give a startled jump.  ¡°I eat three now.  And make some for yourself too, if you will.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± I say, struggling to keep my voice calm.  I grab another egg and crack it into the pan.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± she says heavily, and I hear her bend over me, her hot breath on the back of my neck.  ¡°You¡¯ve been a good daughter, Alyssa.¡±


    I fight to keep from grimacing, keeping my head down and dumping one more egg into the pain.  ¡°I¡¯m not dead yet, Mum.¡±  I don¡¯t look up to see her answer, just grabbing the spatula and tossing the eggs around the pan.


    ¡°Obviously.¡±


    I stop stirring, holding my spatula midair, and turn around to face her, keeping my hand rested against the front of the stove.  ¡°What is going to happen today?   What are you planning to do?¡±


    She puckers her lips together and raises her eyebrows like it¡¯s obvious.  My heart spins inside me, I drop my head, hardly daring to breathe.  It seems like forever until she responds, her thin lips slowly drifting together to form a word.  ¡°I¡¯m going to work.¡±


    The spatula clatters to the floor, all words die off my lips.  I don¡¯t know why I didn¡¯t expect this, didn¡¯t know it was coming, but it was there all along.  Mum had never brought me home to spend time with me, never brought me home because she cared about me enough to be with me on my last days.  No, she had brought me here and then left me.  To me, everything has changed, but to her, nothing has.  Misery crashes over me, I shake my head slowly, falling back into the stove and yanking my hand away before I burn myself.  ¡°You¡¯re going...to work,¡± I say with a shake of my head.  It¡¯s not a question, just a statement.  We both know the answer.


    ¡°Alyssa, I need this job.  Please don¡¯t try to get in the way of this.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± I say quickly, bending down and grabbing the spatula, gripping it between my thumb and forefinger.  ¡°I won¡¯t.¡±


    She grabs my shoulder, and tilts up my head, looking directly into my eyes.  ¡°I love you, okay Alyssa?¡±


    I don¡¯t know what to feel.  A part of me wants to believe it, wants to hug her so tightly and be her little girl again, but I¡¯m not.  She¡¯s faded away now, the old Mum that I knew is gone.  Now I¡¯m here, seventeen years old, a cancer victim, and she¡¯s there, living her life now, a cashier in a fancy store and I¡¯m not a part of it anymore.  She¡¯s gone now.


    I jerk around as the pan begins to sizzle and I realize that the eggs are beginning to burn.  I whip the spatula towards the eggs, but my hand brushes the hot pot, and I yelp and jump backwards, pain flashing through my hand.  I grab the handle of the pot and somehow manage to fling the eggs across the room, hitting Mum¡¯s shirt and forming a clump on the floor.


    Mum yells a curse word and stares at me with anger flashing over her face.  ¡°You idiot,¡± she cries, brushing the oil marks off her dress. ¡°What¡¯d you do that for?¡±


    I¡¯m on the floor in a moment, dropping the half-cooked eggs into my hand.  ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to, I promise,¡± I insist, knowing that I sound like a silly baby, but not really caring.  I close my eyes for a moment, letting the darkness spin around me for a moment before opening them again and looking at her.  ¡°Take it easy, I¡¯ll make more.¡±


    ¡°Well hurry up with it,¡± she snaps, tapping her watch impatiently.  ¡°I need to be at Walmart in half an hour.¡±


    I dump the eggs into the trash and busy myself with making new a new batch, stirring in spices this time to make it better.  She goes into the other room, and I stare at the eggs for a long time, watching them slowly crisp and form into solid.  My head aches slightly, I don¡¯t know why I¡¯m doing this, but I somehow manage to slip them onto a plate and keep myself from flinging the finished product at her face.


    She gives a nod of approval and sets the plate down hard on the table, gobbling the eggs down without a word.  My stomach is too knotted to want to eat anything, but she barely even notices, finishing the eggs with a gulp of water and bringing them to the sink.  ¡°Good job, Alyssa, this is better,¡± she says as she walks out, and I nod abruptly and stumble into the other room after her.  ¡°Have a good day.¡±


    She gives me a quick kiss on the cheek and rests her hand on the door handle.  ¡°I¡¯m going to work now,¡± she tells me flatly.  ¡°Do enjoy yourself.  But not with Barney.¡±  She gives a crude laugh and runs her fingers through my hair.  ¡°You make lunch, there¡¯s some veggies in the fridge.  If you need anything, call me.¡±


    I don¡¯t mention my broken phone, just following her lamely out the door.  ¡°Have a good day,¡± I say quietly, and she gives me a watery smile and drops the keys into my hand.  ¡°I certainly will.¡±


    I run my fingers over the jagged, cold metal, and swing the door shut behind us.  She leaves briskly, yanking open the door of her shiny red car and sitting herself down, slamming her foot down on the pedal and leaving in an instant without looking back.


    I sit myself down on the cold stone steps, tossing the key from hand to hand and staring at the spot where the car was.  I wish she would appear again, say that she was sorry, but she won¡¯t.  I feel like I should be glad that she is gone, happy that I finally have some time alone, but instead I find that I just want her again.  And somehow, I find that I am completely alone.


    I raise my head, and my eyes suddenly land on the gnomes sitting outside on the grass.  They¡¯ve toppled over, staring up at the sky now.  I inch towards them, my heart screaming inside of my chest, I grab one of them with my hands and stare at it for a moment with my eyebrows scrunched together.


    I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m doing, but I can¡¯t stop myself.  Memories are flying through my head, I have to do something, I grab a rock off the grass and slam it into the gnome¡¯s head.  Fragments of plastic shatter everywhere, still I keep pounding, pounding, until the gnome¡¯s head is crushed and it¡¯s smile destroyed.  I find with shock that I¡¯m smiling, and I toss the plastic up in the air, laughter rolling up inside me and exploding from my chest.  I collapse on the floor next to the broken pieces, shaking wildly, my smile frozen on my face, somehow happy, but unbearably sad.  I take a handful of the slivers and fling them up in the air, leaping up and spinning around, dancing wildly, and then falling again, letting the pieces fall around me and my head fall to my chest.

 Chapter 7

    I barely notice the days passing by until they¡¯ve already shattered on the ground. Every day, Mum goes to work, hiding behind a twisted facade of peace and security. Every day. I sit at home trying desperately to cry, but still unable. Everyday, Mum hides her phone, deleting all of her texts and refusing to let me speak to Marya. Everything fades, crinkling into a grey, dry, bitter world, life seeping out of me day after day.


    Life has no meaning anymore, it never has. All we do is eat, breathe, sleep, and then die, an endless cycle but we fill our lives up so much with distractions that we never realize how costly it is, how precious. We never realize the end is coming until it¡¯s already here. Because every single one of us is dying. We don¡¯t realize it, we don¡¯t think about it, but the end is coming. The question is how we live accordingly.


    Mum buys me a book called The Woman¡¯s Guide to Fighting Disease, and I read it every moment that she¡¯s gone. I want the book to be my savior, to pull me out of this deep pit and show me how to live a healthy and thriving life. But nothing it says seems to work. I do everything I can, eating the foods that it tells me to eat and run through the exercises whenever I can. But the leukemia is still there.


    The doctor does everything that he can as well. He gives me tips and advice, and brainstorms different procedures that might help. But in the end, he can only think of one thing.


    A bone marrow transplant.


    He says that he can put healthy stem cells into my body to give it the strength to fight back. But only if he can find a donor. A person who has the same type of bone marrow as me that is willing to give some of their own. So he rubs my cheek with a cotton swab and takes some of my blood, telling me with a determined look in his eye that he is going to find someone to save my life.


    I bite my tongue until blood pops out of it to keep myself from telling him that even if the leukemia doesn¡¯t kill me, eventually, something else will. He can¡¯t make me live forever. He might save my life for a moment, but I would only die again afterwards.


    Things change the day after my class graduates high school.


    When I realize what day it is, a deep ache rumbles through my body, every part of my hurts with the deep desire to be up there with them, wearing the silly black hat and hearing them call my name and give me a shout of victory. I wanted to be up there with them, receiving my certificate and feeling happiness blaze through me as I know that I have succeeded. But Marya is up there alone.


    Or...maybe she isn¡¯t. Maybe she made new friends. Maybe she did what I asked and moved on with life. Like I asked her to. Like I wanted her to.


    I can¡¯t stop thinking of what this means, of how my words will affect our friendship, but I had to say them. Marya will be happier if we pull apart now. Marya will be happier if she can find a life without me in it. Because soon, she¡¯s going to have to.


    The day after the graduation, the doorbell rings.


    I swing open the door and stumble back in shock, my eyes flickering from the familiar dark pink dress to the auburn hair tied up in a high ponytail. The face so covered in makeup that you can hardly believe it exists. Marya¡¯s face sags somehow, she¡¯s different. I know she¡¯s different.


    Her eyes widen when she sees me. She stares at me in silence for a moment before shoving the door open wider and tackling me in a hug. ¡°Lyssy girl,¡± she whispers in my ear. ¡°I¡¯m here now, okay? I¡¯m not leaving this time.¡±


    I give a gasp of shock, struggling to breathe with the panic spinning through me. ¡°Marya,¡± I hiss under my breath, pulling away from her. ¡°What are you doing here? What kind of a sick joke is this?¡±


    She laughs, but there¡¯s no humor in her voice. ¡°What do you think I¡¯m doing here, Lyssy? I¡¯m here to help you. I¡¯m your friend, for crying out loud, why shouldn¡¯t I be here?¡±


    ¡°I told you I¡¯m done,¡± I cry softly, pulling myself away from her. ¡°And please keep your voice down, I don¡¯t know what Mum will do if she finds you here.¡±


    Marya¡¯s face tightens, she stares at me for a moment with a strange look in her eye. ¡°You¡¯ve changed, Lyssy,¡± she murmurs, her voice bitter and hurt. ¡°You¡¯re different.¡±This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    My face burns red, I barely manage to choke out the words against the bile of my throat. ¡°Of course I¡¯ve changed, Marya. How could you expect this to happen and think that I wouldn¡¯t come out different?¡±


    She stares at me for a long time, her face scrunching up and her hands dropping limply to her sides. ¡°You don¡¯t understand,¡± she cries, her voice much louder this time. ¡°I thought maybe we could do this together. I thought maybe I could help you, Alyssa.¡±


    My head falls to my chest, I want that more than anything else, need Marya, with all my heart, I need her, but I can¡¯t. I can¡¯t do this to her. I won¡¯t let myself hurt her like I know I can. So I turn my head away from her and cry, ¡°You can¡¯t help me, Marya. No one can help me now.¡±


    She raises her head, and a cold shiver burns through me when I see tears flash in her cold brown eyes. ¡°Alyssa Gray, do you realize what an idiot you¡¯re being? We all want to help you, you moron, will you please stop rejecting me and actually talk to me? For god¡¯s sake, Lyssy, I¡¯ve been worried sick, please don¡¯t shut me out like this.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I stumble backwards, words sinking off my lips and into the harsh breeze. I grab the door and push her out of the doorway. ¡°No, I can¡¯t, Marya, things are different now.¡±


    She stares at me, there¡¯s anger in her eyes but deeper than that I can see strong pity. ¡°Please just listen to me for one second, Lyssy.¡± She grabs my chin like she did in the classroom and forces me to look in her eyes, staring at me with hurt and anger piercing my heart. ¡°Okay, I honestly don¡¯t know what to say, so I¡¯ll just say this. Alyssa, you¡¯re the only thing I have left. And don¡¯t say my dad, because I barely see him anymore, you know that. I miss you, Lyssy, I do. I know I¡¯m here because you need me, but god, Lyssy, to me this is so much about me needing you. You are everything to me, Lyssy. Please, please don¡¯t shut me out now.¡± She finishes abruptly and stares at me, and I stare back at her completely still, wanting so desperately to open my mouth but knowing that I could never give her an answer. No matter what I said, it would crush her.


    Her hand drifts to the door, and she grabs the wood. ¡°I have to be here, Alyssa.¡±


    I find myself grabbing her hand and pulling her back towards me. I can¡¯t stop myself, my hands are floating towards her and I squeeze her in a hug and stay there for as long as I can before pulling away.


    She looks stunned for a moment, and then she squeezes back, grabbing my hand and locking it to her side. ¡°Please don¡¯t make me go,¡± she mutters slowly, locking eyes with me and giving me a small shake of her head. ¡°Not now.¡±


    I stare at her in horror, too scared to let her stay, but not strong enough to make her go. I stand frozen in the doorway, my head dropping to my chest and my eyes so dry that they burn. I want so desperately to say something, but the words are lodged in my throat, I can¡¯t force them onto my tongue. I can only sit there, the world fading into a blur of colors, Marya¡¯s pained face plastered in my mind.


    Marya shakes her head, rubbing my hand gently with her thumb. ¡°I¡­¡± she murmurs, and then she cuts off. ¡°Do this for me, Lyssy.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± I mumble, closing my eyes and trying desperately to shut out her pleading face. ¡°You can¡¯t, You need to move on. That¡¯s what¡¯s best for both of us.¡±


    Marya steps back with a jolt, a rumble of anger shooting through her hand. ¡°For god¡¯s sake, Lyssy, I can¡¯t. Please, please listen, please try to understand, I can¡¯t do this without you.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re going to have to,¡± I whisper. ¡°I¡¯m not going to be here for you forever.¡±


    Tears slip down her cheeks, and she turns her head away from me. I feel an ice cold breath wash over me, and my heart feels like it¡¯s been tied up in a harsh knot. I want to cry with her like we always have when we see that the other is struggling, but this time, I can¡¯t be the one to cry with her. She¡¯ll have to find someone else.


    She raises her head, and I see something flash in her eyes, and she rushes back towards me, shaking her head. ¡°No, Lyssy, I¡¯m not leaving.¡±


    My hands are shaking wildly, I¡¯m not sure how much longer I can hold up. ¡°No, Marya, you do.¡±


    More tears drip down her cheeks, and I see them plink on the chalky tile floor. ¡°No, Lyssy,¡± she cries, her voice practically a yell. ¡°You can¡¯t stop me. I¡¯m here, I¡¯m here for you, I¡¯m never leaving you, I can¡¯t.¡±


    I run backwards, placing my hand on the door and trying desperately to push her away, but she won¡¯t go. She pushes past me and sits down firmly on the couch, staring up at me with defiance burning through her. My heart hurts, I love her for what she¡¯s doing but somehow I also hate her for it. Every part of my wants to scream, I want to help her so bad, but I can¡¯t.


    There¡¯s only one thing that I can do, and it¡¯s undoubtedly the hardest thing I¡¯ve ever done.


    I give her one last pleading look, and whisper, ¡°Please forgive me¡±, and then I back up towards the stairway, shoving my mouth open and screaming one word as hard as I can. It¡¯s just one word, but the effect breaks my heart. ¡°Mum.¡±


    And then she¡¯s instantly here, seeing Marya, taking in the sight, fury contorting her face. Colors spin wildly, tears stream down Marya¡¯s face, shock, horror, betrayal. There¡¯s hatred there, she hates me for what I¡¯ve done. She wanted to be with her but I turned to Mum. I rejected Marya, the only thing I have left is Mum.


    And after Marya is gone her words still blaze through her mind, leaving a deeper scar than anything my mother could give. Marya¡¯s last words to me, the last thing she said was, ¡°You, Alyssa Gray, are just like your mother.¡±

 Chapter 8

    My phone is sitting on the ground.


    It¡¯s screen has been replaced, light sparkles over the clear surface. The whole thing has been put back together, I can barely tell that it was broken. But it¡¯s mine. Marya brought it. She brought it for me. Somehow, she managed to put the broken pieces together and leave me one last gift, one last surprise before I say goodbye.


    A wordless sob slips out of of my mouth and I slip my phone in my pocket to stop Mum from seeing it. If she sees it, she¡¯ll take it away. I slip silently upstairs and lock the door to my bedroom, drawing the curtains before I yank my phone out of my pocket and hold the button until the screen lights up. Before I have a chance to click onto my contacts, a little message pops up on my screen.


    Alyssa,


    It¡¯s Joshua. I was in the classroom the day you found out about your illness. Marya told me about the leukemia, you didn¡¯t tell me, don¡¯t worry. You probably remember me, and you might still be mad at me, but I¡¯m sorry for anything I might have said. My dad repairs electronics for a living, so I saw this on the floor and asked him to fix this. I hope it¡¯s okay with you. I told Marya to give it to you next time she saw you. </img>">


    -Joshua


    ((0784407825))


    I stare at the phone in cold disbelief, running my hands through my hair and trying desperately to get feeling to wash over my numb fingers. It wasn¡¯t Marya. It was him. It was the freak from the classroom, the one who kept insisting that he could fix my problems, that he could be the one to save me, but he couldn¡¯t. No one could. A cold burst of air dribbles down my back, and I pull my knees up against my chest, flipping the message away, and stopping my finger a mere moment away from clicking on Marya¡¯s name.


    I want to so desperately...but I can. I can¡¯t call her, can¡¯t find the words to say, the strength to say them. If I call her, she¡¯ll believe that I have something more to say, that what I said earlier wasn¡¯t my final word.


    But it was.


    I had said exactly what I needed to say. I had sacrificed everything for her. I can¡¯t give up now, I can¡¯t take back my words while there is still hope for Marya to live and thrive without me.


    I click off my phone. With a single beep, Joshua¡¯s message, all evidence of my old texts with Marya fade into an inky blackness. I stuff the phone in my old desk drawer, and force myself to heave myself through the next day without looking at it, trying with all my heart to resist the temptation to keep going, to keep my life confined within the walls of this house just as I am. Trapped.


    I can access the outside world now. The real question is if I want to.


    Or will I live here for the rest of my life, afraid, fearful, never willing to take the next step to defy Mum and live to be who I really am?


    But who is that?


    Is it someone beautiful, someone able to make a difference in the world? Marya thought that. She told it to me so many times. But Mum always acts like I¡¯m a curse. Like I don¡¯t matter to her so much, that she can only care about me if I make myself useful to her with chores and cooking. I just wish she would look closer, look deeper in me, see more than just a mistake, but a girl who needs a Mummy. A girl who feels so completely alone because she¡¯s lost the only friend she ever had.


    A friend who called me Lyssy.


    I wonder if anyone will ever call me by that name again.


    A whisper, a silent goodbye, a tribute to the one who changed everything. A hope, a dream, a memory that will never fade away. All I can give to the one who changed everything. All I can give to the one who was a friend.


    Joshua will never be what Marya was to me.


    Several days later, I shove away my fear and jab the number into my phone that I know will change everything. The same number that Joshua mentioned on his message. A number that I know will lead to him. A month ago, I would have done almost anything to get away from him, but now he¡¯s the only one I can get to. The only one who I trust myself to contact without giving into the temptation of forming a connection. The only one who might possibly be able to help.


    It¡¯s late, Mum fell asleep a long time ago, but I¡¯m still awake, sitting on the edge of my bed, grabbing my phone out of my desk and hesitating only a moment before typing, Thanks for fixing my phone.


    It¡¯s a while before he responds, and I almost click off my phone and assume he hasn¡¯t seen it before my phone beeps a reply.


    You¡¯re welcome.


    My heart gives a strange wiggle inside me when I read it, I¡¯m really contacting him. Finally, I¡¯m part of the outside world, my grip is stretching beyond the home that I can see. But I never imagined, never wanted it to be to Joshua. I quickly type back the only thing I can think to say. Why are you doing this?


    A reply appears in almost no time at all. I just want to help you, Alyssa. Please let me do that. And I want to make up for what I did in the classroom earlier. Because I know I must have done something wrong, even though I promise I didn¡¯t mean to.


    Look joshua, I know your trying to be nice and all but its not helpingThis novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    Seriously, it wasn¡¯t a big deal. My dad does this stuff for a living. *hugs*


    I stare at the ¡®hug¡¯ for a moment and grit my teeth, trying to resist the urge to send him a string of curse words like I know Marya would. He thinks he can just walk up into my life and try to fix everything, but he¡¯s wrong. Not a single pathetic hug from him will change the death that¡¯s coming for me.


    Another beep, and a new message pops up. What does your Dad do? </img>">


    I know he¡¯s just trying to sound friendly, but the worlds have a sudden sting to them that takes my breath away. Struggling to sound casual, I manage to jab back a quick reply.


    Don¡¯t have one


    A long silence on the other end, then, Oh.


    I run my hand through my hair and stare at the screen long enough for one more message to pop up. I¡¯m sorry.


    Don¡¯t be. Its not your fault or anything


    I click off the phone before I see his answer, and mute it so that Mum won¡¯t be able to hear it. The words, the horrible efforts make my throat burn with sickened pain. The joy, the small delights of the world have faded away, this is all I have left. And it¡¯s worse than nothing at all.


    I don¡¯t even get a chance to put the phone away before the door bangs open.


    I scramble to put my phone into my desk, but I drop it and it clunks to the floor. That¡¯s how she finds me, fumbling to find the phone and hide the evidence of the texts behind my back, stubbornly refusing to look up at her. ¡°Alyssa,¡± she says in her harsh, cutting voice. ¡°What are you doing, dear?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± I lie, sliding the phone under the desk and standing up quickly, tilting my head up to look directly at her. ¡°Just picking up my¡­¡± I struggle to find something on me that I would have dropped. ¡°Pen.¡±


    Her eyebrows fly up, and she steps closer to me, placing two fingers on my chin and bending down to look at me with a tiny smile quirking at the corners of her lips. ¡°Well then, Alyssa, I hope you won¡¯t mind if I take a look at this...pen.¡± She bends down onto all fours and shoves me out of the way, reaching her hand under the desk and staring at me with her black eyes burning with hatred. She yanks out the phone and stares at it in shock, looking from me to the phone, and back to me. My heart is burning a hole right through my lungs, I can barely breathe with fear and shame.


    Her voice is carefully measured when she finally speaks, quiet, a little too quiet. ¡°I thought you told me this was broken, Alyssa. And still at school.¡±


    I barely manage to hiss a response. ¡°Marya brought it. A boy at school fixed it,¡± I say, glowering at her and struggling to unclench my fingers. ¡°You can¡¯t shut me out anymore, I¡¯m still here.¡±


    She drops the phone to the floor without a world, staring at it with cold, cruel eyes as it bounces across the wood. ¡°You can¡¯t do anything about it,¡± I cry loudly, staring at the phone with sparks of anger coursing through my body. ¡°You touch this phone and you prove you¡¯re the monster that Marya says you are.¡±


    She raises her head, and I stumble back when I see tears stark against her black eyes. She¡¯s staring at me, her eyes crinkling together in a way that almost seems to care, almost seems to want to help me. For a moment, I feel a strange sense of connection with her, and then she tosses her hair over her shoulder and raises her leg, bringing her sharp high heel down right on top of the phone. A loud crack, a bang, a shattering sound and for the second time in two months, pieces of the phone shatter across the ground.


    ¡°No,¡± I scream, leaping forward and staring up at her with horror contorting my face. ¡°No, please don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Alyssa, I love you,¡± she whispers, stepping towards me and yanking me towards her. ¡°I love you more than they do. Please.¡± She reaches towards me, and I don¡¯t have time to pull away before she pulls me into a hug.


    I rip myself away from her in disgust, her hot breath still curling on my neck. Every part of me is screaming, pain is spinning through me, my skin glowing cold like the first breath of winter. And tears. Tears spilling down my cheeks, plinking on the floor, a hot sticky mess dripping onto my trembling cheeks. For the first time since I found out about the leukemia, I cry.


    And then I¡¯m flying backwards, tears still flowing out of my cheeks, the world spinning into a blur of wet colours, pounding on the floor, screaming until my voice aches like a fresh wound. Snot dripping from my nose, sobbing so hard I can barely breathe, forever and ever and ever, terrified to stop. Every part of me aches when I finally stop, curl into a ball, and sink into a tangled messy wreck of sleep.


    Tears are still streaked across my cheeks when I wake up early the next morning. It¡¯s still dark outside, Mum is still asleep, and I know what I have to do. I¡¯ve been putting it off for so long, but I have to, it¡¯s coming, I have to do it now, I can¡¯t wait any longer. Can¡¯t sit here in Mum¡¯s shadow while she destroys everything I have. They say I¡¯m still alive, but I know I was dead long ago.


    The leukemia will help me now. I never thought I would have said this, but it¡¯s all I have left to cling to, and I know I will. I grab onto my sickness with everything I have left and begin to run. My feet pounding on the steps, I shoot down the stairs and fumble to open the door and step into the cold, blunt night air. A knife from the kitchen is in my hands, I¡¯m done with waiting, done with waiting patiently for the end to come. Every day, it gets nearer, every day the end threatens to swallow me up with it¡¯s mighty jaws and I can¡¯t fight it anymore. All I can do is give in. And I¡¯m so sick of sitting around while it makes its way to the table to eat me whole. It¡¯s over.


    I¡¯m away from her then, the door swinging shut behind me and the old oak tree at the end of the road looming out in front. It¡¯s quiet now, everyone¡¯s asleep, I run off the road and into a patch of trees where I know that everything is quiet, sinking down to my knees and closing my eyes as the moon whispers a word of goodbye on to my neck.


    I am going to die tonight.


    Memories race through my head. Running on the beach with Marya, belting out songs at the top of my lungs, screaming in the rain, dancing around, laughing so hard my stomach hurts, nights sipping hot cocoa and counting the stars, screaming, dancing, crying, loving, being real. Moments, little moments, each one small but each one precious, lovely, beautiful. I¡¯m terrified, terrified to die, terrified to give up.


    I press the knife to my arms, and press ever so gently until just a little drop of blood pops out. A sting burns through me, but I barely notices it, just staring at my arm as the blood begins to drip out and patter on the leaves below. It¡¯s a tiny wound, but the blood is already flowing out much faster than it always does, much faster than I know it should. It¡¯s the leukemia, I know it is. This shouldn¡¯t normally happen, the blood shouldn¡¯t still be flowing, but it is.


    This is going to be far too easy.


    Everything fades into a blur, hacking away at my arms and legs with the knife, blood everywhere, dizziness, falling backwards into the tree with tears flying down my cheeks, widly shrieking, screaming into the night, but still I can¡¯t stop slicing away at my arm, slicing, cutting, my light fades tonight, it¡¯s over tonight, I can¡¯t stop now, can¡¯t stop the blood from flooding out, still I hit my arms, more blood bursts out, more screaming, more crying, more howling my sorrow to the moon above. Everything is spinning, I can barely breathe now, blood is flooding out, my body is drenched, my clothes soaked with scarlet. It¡¯s almost over. It¡¯s almost done.


    ¡°It¡¯s finished,¡± I whisper into the night as everything fades into the suffocating blackness of unconsciousness.

 Chapter 9

    White, sterile walls. A warm fuzzy blanket and a large metal bed tilting me into a sitting position. Steady beeping. I know where I am.


    I leap upwards with a scream of, ¡°Mum,¡± but then hands grip me, pushing me downwards, everything is fuzzy, like I¡¯m still stuck in a dream. I sink back on to the bed, looking up into the blue eyes of a stranger, a nurse.


    ¡°Hello, Alyssa,¡± she says calmly, her hands digging painfully into my shoulders. I stare numbly up at her, rubbing my eyes blearily and focusing all my efforts on what she is saying. ¡°My name¡¯s Patricia, but you can call me Patty. I¡¯ll be your nurse.¡±


    ¡°Oh god,¡± I say hoarsely, a flood of words sitting on my tongue, waiting to dump out at this strange, old woman doing everything she can to stop me from moving. But I don¡¯t, I just stare at her with hot tears building in my eyes and say the only thing I can think to say. ¡°Where¡¯s Mum?¡±


    ¡°She went to go get breakfast. She said to tell you she¡¯d be there soon.¡±


    I give a barely perceptible nod, and then a bigger nod after that because I don¡¯t think she saw. ¡°Okay,¡± I whisper under my breath, and she lets go of me and sits down on a wheeled chair next to the bed.


    I stare at her in frustration, wondering how long it will be before she finally leaves. I need some time alone, to think, to slip my fist around what¡¯s happening and finally understand it. She seems to read my mind though, because she says, ¡°Someone needs to be near you at all times, Alyssa. I¡¯m sorry but it¡¯s the way it has to be.¡±


    I take a sharp breath and study her out of the corner of my eyes. She¡¯s older, with greying hair and a thin-lipped smile, rather short, with dull blue eyes. She doesn¡¯t even try to hide her interest in me, studying me carefully with a strange look in her eyes. ¡°We¡¯re very glad to have you here, Alyssa.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I mumble under my breath, unsure what to say. I know why I¡¯m here, I know why she¡¯s so interested in me, but I can¡¯t think of what to say. The world is still so hazy, as if shrouded in mist.


    ¡°Your Mum wanted you to be here,¡± she says, as if it¡¯s supposed to be a comfort. ¡°She wants you to be okay, and you should too. For her sake if not for anyone else¡¯s.¡±


    I stare at her with my eyebrows knitting together, my heart giving a small skitter within me. It¡¯s clear what she¡¯s trying to do, trying to convince me that this life is the best one for me to be in. Trying to get me to rethink what I did last night. But her words only press hard against me, trapping me so tightly that I know I¡¯m still willing to do anything to get out of this crazy mess.


    Patty seems to sense my displeasure with that answer, because she says, ¡°I understand your need for privacy, Alyssa, and so does your mother. We don¡¯t want to violate that. But we also care too much about you to let you place yourself in danger, and we fear what pain you might cause yourself if we leave you alone for too long.¡±


    I twirl a lock of hair around my finger, and lower my head, knowing exactly what she means and feeling irritation burning in me because of it. ¡°How long will you make me sit here, then?¡±


    She gives a small chuckle, although I didn¡¯t mean it as a joke. ¡°We¡¯re trying to get you home as soon as possible, Alyssa, but you need to work with us to make that happen. Until then, we¡¯ve worked hard to come up with all kinds of materials to keep you entertained. You have a TV up there-¡± She jabs her thumb in the direction of a TV on the wall behind me. ¡°And a library in the other room. You can borrow books from there as long as you¡¯re staying here, so long as you return them before you leave. There¡¯s also free wifi.¡±


    I massage my forehead gently and flick the remote., watching the screen light up with color- it¡¯s a game show. I raise my eyebrows and settle back on the bed. It¡¯s better than hearing the nurse pipe on about how ¡®she wants me to be okay¡¯ and ¡®she has to stay with me to protect me¡¯. So I stay there a long time, watching the mitunes flick silently by, hours pass before I can truly grasp them.


    Mum still doesn¡¯t come back for long after the nurse said she would, she leaves me curled up on the hospital bed, alone, afraid, ashamed. I barely know what¡¯s going on, everything is just blurry, like a blanket has clouded my mind, like I¡¯m still lost in the middle of a far away dream.


    But then the door swings open, and I see her framed in the doorway.


    It¡¯s like seeing her again for the first time. And a wave of nostagia, of sorrow, of pain, sweeps over me. I survey her quietly, my eyes flicking over her body. Her dark brown hair is tied up into a tight bun on top of her head, and her face so covered in make up I can hardly see it. She¡¯s staring at me almost mournfully, and her mouth open slightly as if she has no idea what to say. ¡°You¡¯re...awake,¡± she says finally.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I mumble. ¡°How long was I asleep?¡±


    ¡°Just about nine hours,¡± Patty says from next to me. ¡°You¡¯ve been unconcious a while.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Mum agrees quietly, and then she turns to Patty. ¡°Can I have a moment, please?¡±


    Patty meets my eyes and looks at me for a moment, and then she smiles, nods, and walks slowly out of the room. I close my eyes, my heart thumping inside me, plastering my back against the back of the bed and bracing for the screams I know will come. I¡¯m shaking, I can¡¯t help it, but my whole body is pulsing wildly. The monitor beeps above me, the lines are zigzagging violently, I struggle to fight it, to calm down, to look like a normal eighteen year old kid.


    But the screams, the yells of anger, of fury, of betrayal never come. Instead, I see Mum crumble to the floor beside the bed, grabbing my cold, shivering hands and pulling them to her heart. Tears flash in her eyes for a moment, and then they fall down her cheeks and plink onto the cold tile floor. She rests her head on my chest and begins to sob violently, more tears flowing down her cheeks, slow, shaking breaths. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she whispers through heavy, struggling breaths. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡±


    I stare at the snot dripping out of her nose and shake my head in disbelief. It¡¯s me who should be sorry, me who should be crying, begging for forgiveness, telling her what a wonderful mother is and how much I love this fine earth of mine. But it¡¯s her crying, her apologizing, her resting her head on my lap and telling me how much she wishes that things could be different. Tears burn my eyes, and slip slowly down my cheeks, I stare at her in strange wonder, running my hands slowly back and forth across her arms and waiting for her to say more.


    ¡°I love you, Alyssa,¡± she falters, looking up at me with her black eyes burning with hope. ¡°I do, I love you. And I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t want this to happen.¡±


    I have a million questions threatening to slip off my tongue, but instead I just say, ¡°Sorry for what?¡±


    ¡°For not being the mother I know you needed,¡± she says immediately, as if reciting off a memorized response. Then more tears pop out of her eyes and she buries her head in her hands, sobbing bitterly.


    Tears burn my cheeks as they slip down, and I rest my hands on Mum¡¯s back, completely unsure what to say. ¡°I¡¯m sorry too,¡± I stammer finally. ¡°For...saying such mean things about you. And talking about you with Marya like you were some kind of a¡­¡± I stop, my tongue caught in my throat. I just stare up into her eyes that look so much like mine, and she looks right back, her lips pressed into a thin frown.


    ¡°Monster,¡± she finishes slowly, not breaking her gaze away from me. ¡°You touch this phone and you prove your the monster that Marya says you are.¡±


    Shame burns through me, and my cheeks glow red. I tear my eyes away from her, staring at the blanket and fingering the threads. ¡°Why did you break the phone?¡± I ask finally.


    ¡°I was scared. And hurt. And afraid. I didn¡¯t know who you had become. And you didn¡¯t belong to me anymore.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I murmur, my heart pounding. I know this question will change everything, know that everything is already changing before my eyes. But I have to know.


    She clears her throat and looks at me carefully before beginning, weighing each word as if it¡¯s a bag of gold. ¡°When you were born,¡± she begins, and then she stops. ¡°When you were born,¡± she repeats slowly, tilting my head up to meet her eyes. ¡°I was younger than you are now. Seventeen. I...I was ashamed. And guilty. So guilty. I didn¡¯t know what to do.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I said quickly, knowing where she was going and feeling a sudden urge to swing away from that as soon as possible.


    ¡°That was before abortion and stuff was allowed here, I- yeah, you know all that. But I couldn¡¯t stop seeing you as my mistake, the baby I never wanted to have. I hated you. I mean, I would never have admitted it but I- gosh, I don¡¯t know, Alyssa, you could probably tell this story better than I could.¡±


    Tears blaze in my eyes, I want to yell at her, but I know she¡¯s just telling the truth as she saw it. Instead, I just say, ¡°Go on.¡±


    ¡°You grew up, you were just a little girl with little girl needs. But I had blinded myself to that. I saw the space you took up, the money you coset, and above all, I saw the disgrace that you made out of me. You made me into that, Alyssa, and I hated you for it. I needed someone to take my anger out on, and you...you were always my scapegoat when I had nowhere else to go.¡±


    I pull my hand away from hers, but when I look up and see the pain ripping her face apart, I slowly bring my hand back and lace it in her fingers. I don¡¯t say a word, just tilting my head and listening.


    ¡°I loved you, Alyssa, you have to understand that. I did, I loved you. But...it was a different kind of love. And I wouldn¡¯t let myself show it.¡± She squeezes my hand tightly, and then goes on. ¡°When you started going to highschool, you started talking about this girl named Marya. You said she was...beautiful, and talented, and popular, and there was some guys who was bullying you or something-¡±


    ¡°Billy,¡± I interrupt softly.


    ¡°Yeah. You called him William then, I think. Anyway, you asked me to go to the school and ask them about him- you wanted to get him in trouble. Well, I said no. I knew you just wanted him to get punished, and I knew that that was the teacher¡¯s job. I didn¡¯t want to interfere. You got mad, you started yelling about how I spoiled all the fun and all that. But then apparently Marya got involved, and she punched Billy in the face or whatever, and then from then on she was your hero.¡±


    My cheeks burn, I look away, little salty raindrops soaring along the sides of my face. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean it like-¡±


    ¡°I know. But you acted that way. You talked about Marya this and Marya that incessantly. And then Marya came over to my house one day, and she saw me. And I don¡¯t know what I did that made her so mad, I guess it was seeing that you cooked most of my dinners, or all of the work that you did around the house. I thought it was me trying to make you useful, trying to make you more than the mistake that I thought you were, but she saw right through it. She looked into my eyes that day, and I saw hatred. So much hatred. And rage. You would come home after than, you¡¯d talk like you had found this new freedom, like you had found truth. You talked about this ¡®self discovery¡¯ course that you had done at school, Marya had shown it to you. You said you were so proud of your new identity, you wanted to be nurse and you had a full plan for your future. But I knew what this new life was. I knew it the moment you started talking about it, the moment you started standing up to me defiantly and saying that you wouldn¡¯t do chores for me because you were too special for that.


    ¡°You thought you had found happiness, but all you had found was a way to shun me in the way that you had always been looking for an excuse to do. You talked about hope and healing, but I had become the antagonist right in the middle of it. And I didn¡¯t want to be that, Alyssa. I didn¡¯t want to be the monster I knew you thought I was. Partly because I knew you were wrong, and also because¡­¡± she takes a deep breath, looking fearfully away from me. ¡°I was afraid you were right.¡±


    ¡°Mum,¡± I whimper, staring up at her with a cold shiver dribbling down my back. ¡°I never knew.¡±


    She brushes tears out of my eyes, and kisses me lightly on the cheek. ¡°It¡¯s okay, Alyssa, I¡¯m not mad. I was wrong for what I did to you.¡±


    ¡°Why are you telling me this?¡± I ask quietly. ¡°Why now? Why after...this?¡±


    ¡°Because last night I saw what I had turned you into. I saw my mistakes, my ignorance, the way that I had refused to be the mother I knew you needed. You showed it to me. You made a choice that I knew would break everything into pieces. And I...I broke with you.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± I want to say more, but that¡¯s all I know how to say.


    Mum smiles and brushes my hair out of my eyes, massaging her fingers through my hair. ¡°Sweet girl.¡±


    I wrap my arms around her neck and squeeze her in a tight hug, and she squeezes back with tears dripping down her cheeks. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Mum says.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry too.¡±


    ¡°I forgive you,¡± I say with a small laugh, and then I pull away and lean back onto the bed.


    ¡°I forgive you too,¡± she echoes with a small grin, and she stands up and begins to walk towards the door. ¡°I¡¯ll give you some space.¡±


    And as the door swings shut behind her and Patty silently comes into the room afterwards, I just lay there with a tiny smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. I have the most wonderful mother in the world.

 Chapter 10

    She¡¯s screaming.  After weeks spent struggling to work up the courage to visit her, clinging to the hope that she¡¯ll be over it by now and won¡¯t still be angry, Marya¡¯s screaming.  Yelling.  Her voice echoing down the hall, shooting up my body from my tingling toes to the pit of my belly and exploding into my brain.  ¡°I don¡¯t want to talk, Lyssy,¡± she¡¯s saying.  ¡°Not after what you did to me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, okay?¡± I yell back, pounding on the door and pounding my fists violently against it.  ¡°Will you please stop fighting me and come out now?  Please?¡±


    She flings open the door, and stands there with her eyes red and bloodshot, her hair a wreck and her whole face yellow and sagging with a strange weight that I can¡¯t recognize.  My heart jumps within me, every part of me is crying for help but I just stand there with my eyes pooling with tears.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be with you, you freak,¡± she cries, her lips curling with anger and her eyes lit up with wild grief.  She slams the door shut with a deafening roar, and I sink down to my knees, my whole body shaking with rage.


    ¡°I am not a freak,¡± I screech, flinging open the door and stomping down the hall.  ¡°I am not the freak here, Marya, and neither is my mother.  If you had just taken the time to listen to her, to hear what she had to say, you wouldn¡¯t say this.  You wouldn¡¯t say any of this.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re just like her,¡± she bellows from up the stairs, and I run up the stairs, my feet pounding against the ground.  I swing across the room, seeing Marya curled in the corner and inching towards her with my face contorted in anguish.


    ¡°I am not just like her, Marya, I am Alyssa.  I am my own person, I will not make the same mistakes that Mum did.¡±


    Tears are overflowing down her cheeks, she looks up at me with her lips twisted up into a sneer.  ¡°Don¡¯t you get it?  You already have, Lyssy.  You¡¯ve always been just like her, I¡¯ve just been too stupidly blind to see it.¡±  She bangs her fist into the wall and brings it back with a howl of pain as blood begins to trickle slowly out of it.


    ¡°If you just talked to her you¡¯d understand,¡± I cry, inching closer to her with my face burning red with fury.  ¡°She¡¯s different now, she¡¯s changed.¡±


    Marya clutches her bleeding hand with a snarl, and backs slowly away from me, thudding against the wall behind her and collapsing on the floor.  ¡°There is no change,¡± she yells.  ¡°Change is what the counselor said when he said he had the answer to Mum and Dad¡¯s marriage issues.  And now look where Dad is.  Change is what you said had happened when you finally started standing up to your Mum when we first began high school.   And now listen to you.¡±


    Her words rip my heart and twist it to pieces, and it takes all my energy to say one more thing.  ¡°It¡¯s not too late for change, Marya.¡±  I¡¯ve stopped yelling, my voice is more of a whimper now.


    ¡°Oh yes it is,¡± Marya says, shaking droplets of blood off her hand and curling up into a ball on the floor as tears stream down her cheeks.   ¡°Get out,¡± she demands through her sobs.  ¡°Just get out.¡±


    I shove the door closed and stumble down the steps, shaking back sobs.  That wasn¡¯t what I wanted.  That wasn¡¯t what I had ever prepared for.  I thought she would understand.  Thought she would forgive me.


    How could I have been so wrong?


    I start to exit the stairway, but I look up to see a familiar woman blocking me.


    ¡°Mrs. Reed,¡± I stammer, my cheeks burning red.  ¡°I- I¡¯m sorry, I know I kind of barged in.¡±


    She smiles, but it doesn¡¯t reach her eyes.  ¡°I thought I heard your voice,¡± she says quietly.  ¡°And I¡¯m not mad, Alyssa, quite the contrary, I¡¯m glad you came.  I¡¯m sorry you had to see her like that.¡±


    I force a smile, but I can¡¯t fight back the tears stinging my eyes.  ¡°Don¡¯t be,¡± I mumble.  ¡°I¡¯m her friend, I¡¯ve seen her in good times and bad.¡±


    She gives me a sympathetic look, and placed her hand on my shoulder gently.  ¡°She¡¯s not mad at you, you know.¡±


    I nod, but I know Marya¡¯s mad at me.  One look at the hatred in her eyes had told me everything.  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    ¡°Sit down a bit, Alyssa,¡± Mrs. Reed says, and she guides me to the living room.  I follow her dazedly, sitting down slowly and folding my hands together.


    ¡°Look, it¡¯s not you.  She has a lot on her plate right now, she¡¯s been that towards all of us.  She just needs someone to take her anger out on.¡±  She gives me a weak smile, her green eyes watering with tears.  ¡°She got a letter from her father this morning.¡±


    My eyes widen, my head shoots up and I shake my head slowly back and forth.  ¡°Addressed to her?  Not you?¡±


    She gives a barely perceptible nod.  ¡°Addressed to her.  The first one she¡¯s gotten.  I don¡¯t know what it said, but she was furious.  She¡¯s yelled at me too, she¡¯s hurt all of us.  But she¡¯s not herself, Alyssa, remember that.  She just needs a way to express her feelings, and...well, you know Marya, you¡¯ve seen her when she doesn¡¯t know what to do with them.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I murmur, my heart tightening within me.  ¡°Yeah,¡± I say again, because my mouth is too dry to come up with any other words.


    ¡°Do a favor for me, will you?¡±


    I stare up at her and force a smile, standing up and folding my hands together.  ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°Come by more often.  I know that sounds...nightmarish-¡± she gives me a sad shake of her head, ¡°But Marya needs to know that you¡¯re still there for her.  She¡¯s feeling pretty betrayed right now, you have to prove to her that you still care about her.¡±


    I fumble a nod, and then slip out the door, darkness clouding my vision.  Empty words, messages, feelings fly around my head, each one longing for a place to perch and rest the night, but I don¡¯t have anywhere to offer them.  Marya has taken them from me.  Marya has taken everything from me.


    For days I had worked up courage, trashed about twenty speeches in order to find the right one for Marya.  But she hadn¡¯t even let me say it.  Hadn¡¯t even listened as I prepared to dump out my heart in the most gut wrenching apology I could think of.  For days, I had wrestled with the fact that I wanted to see her, wanted to be friends again, fought against the voice that told me that it would never work out.  For days I had listened to Mum as she told me that she thought Marya would want to be with me to the end, so that Marya could cherish my memory more.  But now I wondered if it was still over, if my friendship with Marya was broken the moment I called for Mum to end our conversation.


    Those days were ruined.  Now all I had was a heart and soul and no one to give it too.  It was too early, and I was too afraid, to give it all to Mum.  Because she still hadn¡¯t proven that she could take care of it.


    I told Marya¡¯s mother that I¡¯d come back, that I¡¯d keep visiting, but now I know I don¡¯t have the strength to.  Now I¡¯ve seen her, seen how much Marya hates me, seen how much Marya is struggling, wrestling with her father, with a life that I¡¯m not a part of anymore.  And I¡¯m not sure I want to be.


    After I get home, I sit on the bed for a long time, curling my legs up underneath me and staring up at the ceiling.  I finger the new phone that Mum bought me between my thumb and forefinger, staring thoughtfully at it and wondering what good it will do me now if I can¡¯t call Marya, can¡¯t tie myself to other people if this cancer will make me so alone as I know I have to be.


    But then, as if it were waiting for the right moment, the phone beeps to let me know that it¡¯s there.


    Hey Alyssa, it¡¯s Joshua.  We haven¡¯t talked in a while, how are you doing?


    His words sting, and I start to regret putting my old SIM card into this phone, but instead I take a deep breath, and think for a moment, trying to find the right words to say.  Because somehow, for whatever strange reason, I find I have to say them.


    So I reply the first honest answer to that question that I¡¯ve given in weeks.  Not too great


    The reply comes quickly.  D:  Sorry, that sucks.  Let me know if you want to talk about it.


    My first instinct cries out no, but I know I have to talk to someone, know that he¡¯s the only one besides Marya who¡¯s actually taken the time to try and talk to me about what¡¯s going on.  And I find that I need that, need someone to talk to, need someone to share my feelings to, and now¡­ my old feelings about him, my own struggles¡­ they don¡¯t seem to matter as much as they used to.


    Yeah actually I kinda do.  Could we maybe meet somewhere?  A cafe or something?


    A long pause, and then another beep.  Are you asking me out on a date?  XD


    Against my will, a smile creeps up the corners of my mouth, but I shove it away, instead jabbing in the letters, No stupid I don¡¯t even know you


    Maybe we should change that.


    ok, I type after some thought.


    Yay!!  *high-five*


    *high five*


    There¡¯s a starbucks near my house.  7680 Harvest Lane.  You wanna meet at four?


    Coolio


    I click off and place my phone carefully at my desk, unable to believe what I just did.  I run down the steps, seeing Mum on the couch and plopping quickly down next to her.  ¡°Hey Mum?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Alyssa?¡±


    ¡°Can I go to Starbucks this afternoon?¡±

 Chapter 11

    He¡¯s waiting for me exactly where he said he would, his lips pulled back in a perfect smile. It¡¯s the first time that I¡¯ve seen his face since that day so long ago in the classroom, and the sight of him sends a shudder pulsing across my spine.


    I scan his face, taking in the sight of him and plastering it into my memory. He¡¯s african american, with skin so dark it¡¯s nearly black. He has a clean shaven face with dark, murky brown eyes and dimples, with an easy smile and perfect white teeth. He¡¯s very tall and thin, and pretty muscular, his shoulders high and confident.


    When he sees me, his face lights up, and he heads towards me with his hand outstretched. ¡°Alyssa,¡± he says loudly, and several people turn to look at us. I quickly look down, feeling a little too embarrassed and hoping he doesn¡¯t seriously see this as a date.


    ¡°Josh,¡± I say with forced enthusiasm, but he seems to see right through it.


    He waves his hand dismissively, and leads me to a seat, and I slowly sit down, clenching my teeth together to stop myself from saying something I know I¡¯ll regret.


    ¡°It¡¯s Joshua,¡± he says. ¡°I don¡¯t think anyone really calls me Josh.¡± He shrugs and reaches forwards, grabbing my hand. His hand feels cold and clammy. I force myself to keep my hand in his, despite the disgust threatening to tear itself out of me.


    His gaze softens. He sighs, and sits back on the chair, laying his arms on the table and staring at me thoughtfully. ¡°Alyssa, I¡¯ve been really worried about you, you know. Marya told me that you had leukemia. I¡¯m sorry you have to go through that.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be,¡± I say bluntly. ¡°It¡¯s not your fault.¡±


    He nods sympathetically, and I see pity in his eyes. My cheeks burn with shame, I hate it when he looks at me like that.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be okay, Alyssa,¡± he says.


    ¡°No, it won¡¯t be,¡± I argue, fighting back the tears stinging my eyes. ¡°It will never be.¡±


    He pulls his hand away, bending his head to look directly at my face. I shove my tears away and stare up and him, my shoulders falling in disappointment. This isn¡¯t going how I thought this was going to go.


    ¡°Don¡¯t talk like that,¡± he insists, his voice calm, but with a strange catch to it. ¡°You can¡¯t give up hope now, after you¡¯ve come so far.¡±


    My head shoots up and I glare at him with my eyes flashing with anger. ¡°You have no idea what I¡¯ve been through,¡± I cry, fury twisting my voice. ¡°You have no idea how hard I¡¯ve been working to fight this.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right, I don¡¯t,¡± he says quietly, and my heart twists inside me.


    Joshua seems to see my discomfort, but he doesn¡¯t say anything, instead taking out his phone and flicking his fingers around for a bit before looking up and meeting my eyes. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind, I¡¯m going to put on some music while we talk.¡±


    I stare at him with realization hitting my heart, and I realize he¡¯s trying to distract me from listening to the ¡®bad influence¡¯ songs that he had said I was listening to back in the classroom. My heart is aching, I just want him to stop, just want him to leave, but he keeps going, looking at me with his eyes crinkling at the corners and hitting the play button.


    Music begins to flow, quietly at first, but then gaining speed, nostagia hitting me like a wave of thunder. Music, feelings, lost messages, crushed hopes, last moments spent in the place that I knew I would dream of being in for the rest of my life. A whisper, a guide, a finger pointing in a direction that I had never dared to go since three months ago had shoved me away.


    If I die young, the music whispers. ...Sink me in the river...sing me away with the words of a love song¡­Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    I blink back sobs, my throat thick with bitter emotions, staring at Joshua in disbelief. Why did I not see this coming? Why did I not expect that he¡¯d want me to come back to that day, to bring back emotions I never wanted to remember? Why was I sitting here, listening to him, staring at him, my mouth too heavy to move and tell him that no, I didn¡¯t want to hear that song again.


    But no, he just stares at me, slowly opening his mouth as if he wants to say something, and then shutting it again. Finally, he says very softly, his voice thick with emotion two words that would change everything. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    Lord make me a rainbow, and I''ll shine down on my mother, she''ll know I''m safe with you when she stands under my colours¡­


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I ask him slowly, pressing my hands together and hoping that I heard him correctly.


    ¡°I said I¡¯m sorry. For what I did last time, back in the classroom. I was trying to be your helper, trying to fix you, but what you really needed was a friend. I was...selfish, I guess. You were trying to show me something, trying to express your feeling and I rejected them. I wanted you to know the truth, and in the process, I ended up hurting you. And I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    Life ain''t always what you think it oughta be, no ain''t even grey, but she buries her baby¡­ the sharp knife of a short life¡­


    I nod, tears plinking onto the table in front of me. I don¡¯t know what to say, don¡¯t know what to tell him, but somehow, the words hit something within me. He¡¯s sorry. He just told me he¡¯s sorry. Maybe...maybe it¡¯s not too late to start over.


    ¡°Do you think you can forgive me?¡±


    I give a small smile, but it¡¯s enough. His face lights up, he nods slowly, and winks at me. Against my will, I giggle, and I sit back against the seat, finding that with the music in the background, and Joshua in front of me, I feel strangely secure.


    Well, I''ve had just enough time¡­


    He clears his throat and smiles at me, rubbing the back of his neck and studying me carefully before saying. ¡°Now, Alyssa, I have some really big news for you.¡±


    I raise my eyebrows, my heart pounding within me. There¡¯s something about the way that he¡¯s looking at me, something in his eyes that catches my attention. I sit up straighter, completely unsure what he¡¯s hinting at, but somehow feeling that I want it. Desperately, desperately want it.


    ¡°Marya wanted me to tell you that she and I are¡­¡± he cuts off, suddenly, giving me a goofy smile and running his hands through his hair before he starts again.. ¡°Marya and I are dating.¡±


    I jump up, shock pounding through me, a cold thrill echoing from my toes to the top of my skull. I fly backwards in my chair, standing up in shocked disbelief and staring at him, not sure whether to punch him for suggesting such a thing or hug him. ¡°You¡¯re...what?¡± I cry, far too loudly, because several people turn to look at us. ¡°She did what?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re dating. We¡¯ve known each other a while now, and after you left school, she started coming to me to talk and stuff because she didn¡¯t really have anything else. She agreed to go out with me only like two weeks ago.¡±


    I blink, suddenly finding thoughts whirling through my head that I know I can¡¯t process. ¡°You¡¯re....I didn¡¯t even know you were a couple. I mean, she didn¡¯t tell me or¡­¡±


    ¡°She didn¡¯t have the courage to call you, Alyssa, she wasn¡¯t even sure she wanted to. She said there was a lot that happened after you talked, you had called your Mum or something and she wasn¡¯t sure how you¡¯d react to the news. She said you hated her, but I knew it wasn¡¯t true.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± I whisper, my mind clouding with foggy, confused feelings, unsure what to feel, unsure what to do. ¡°Oh,¡± I say again, finally.


    ¡°I hope that¡¯s okay with you, Alyssa, she wanted to make sure. You¡¯re her best friend, you know, and-¡±


    ¡°No, no, please,¡± I hold my hands out, choking out the words I know Marya must have been waiting forever for me to say. ¡°You have my blessing.¡±


    He grabs my hand and squeezes it, a huge smile exploding over his face. I choke back a huge array of thoughts waiting to be spoken, voices waiting to be heard but ashamed to say their thoughts. I don¡¯t know what gift I can give Marya, what I can owe her to make up for the way that I shut her out, but maybe, just maybe that will be enough. Maybe the blessing, the hope for the future, the love that Joshua can give- maybe they¡¯ll be exactly what she needs to know how much I care.


    My heart feels heavy as I go back home, back to Mum, back to life away from the world. I¡¯m not sure what to think, afraid of the feelings that threaten to swallow me up. Was Joshua really what Marya needed? Was someone like the freak from the classroom really the right one for her? What did she see in him? How could this happen now, right in the tangled mess of her father¡¯s letter and my death date growing ever closer.


    Who would have thought forever could be severed by the sharp knife of a short life¡­ well I''ve had just enough time¡­


    But maybe, just maybe, there can be beauty in this. Maybe Joshua will be what Marya will need. Maybe,freedom could be found through my blessing. Marya could find hope through the smallest thing I could possibly give. Four words of blessing, four words of a new start. You have my blessing. And maybe those were the only words that I could have said.


    Maybe.

 Chapter 12

    It¡¯s about a week later when the doorbell rings.


    I have just come back from my walk, and I am lying on the couch sipping water slowly and trying to catch my breath, while Mum is in the kitchen making lunch for both of us. And then a shrill ringing pierces the silence, and I run to the room, swinging it open and knowing before I even see her face who it is.


    ¡°Marya,¡± I gasp, struggling to breath normally and look her straight in the eyes.


    ¡°Lyssy,¡± she echoes, staring at me with her mouth open slightly and her arms hanging limp at her sides. ¡°Look...I¡¯m¡­I¡¯m sorry and all, about last week. I was a jerk.¡±


    My heart is pounding, I know she¡¯s sorry but whenever I look at her I see her like I saw her last week- the bloodshot eyes, the open mouth, the pitifully sad smile. I don¡¯t know what to say, don¡¯t know what to tell her, still blinded by the monster that she dared to reveal to me. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± I manage to mumble, and I give her a small smile, stepping back and opening the door wider, gesturing her inside. ¡°Come on in.¡±


    She stares at me, and her eyes widen, stumbling backwards and holding her palms out in protest. ¡°Your Mum¡¯s away?¡±


    I chew my lip and fight to get my mouth to say the words I know have to be said. ¡°Look, I¡­ I tried to tell you last time, things are different now. We¡¯ve been talking- she¡¯s not what you think she is. She¡¯s not what either of us have ever thought she is.¡±


    Marya just stares at me without saying a word, but for a moment, I see a flame of fire in her eyes that knocks me backwards. She stares at me for a second, her eyes glittering with hatred and then it leaves as quickly as it came, and she just stares there with her face fallen and dejected. ¡°So...you gonna say your sorry?¡±


    I give a little jump, and I brush my hair out of my eyes, not really sure what she means. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°For telling your Mum about me last week. You going to apologize?¡±


    I stare at her, realization crackling all over my body and then mumble out the words that I had prepared for my last visit. ¡°Look, I really am sorry, Marya.¡± I force myself to look her in the eyes despite the terror that flutters beneath my skin. ¡°I was wrong to do that. I thought I was doing the right thing, and I thought I was making a sacrifice that would help you in the long run, but it ended up really hurting you and I¡¯m sorry about that.¡±


    Her eyes narrow into thin slits, but she just stands there, waiting for me to continue.


    ¡°I talked to my Mum, and I think¡­ I think you deserve a chance. I¡¯ve been feeling...really alone and stuff, and I miss you, I really do. You mean everything to me, Marya, you¡¯re my best friend. I want you to have the chance to be with me to the end.¡± I stop suddenly and stare at her with my hands clasped together in a silent plea. My whole body suddenly feels freezing cold, a dull ache dragging me down to the ground. ¡°Please forgive me,¡± I whisper, holding my hand out for her to shake.


    She stares at my hand for a moment, with her eyebrows crinkled together and her face contorted in pain, but she makes no move to grab my hand. Instead, she just looks from my hand, to my face, and then back to my hand. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± she says slowly, each word slow and well pronounced. ¡°I forgive you, I mean,¡±


    I nod vigorously, and give her the best smile that I can manage, looking her in the eyes and saying, ¡°So, Joshua told me that you¡¯re¡­.¡±


    ¡°A couple, yeah,¡± Marya says with a tight nod, staring at me with her thin lips pressed into a hard line. ¡°Joshua told me you gave your blessing.¡±


    I stare at her with my mouth open slightly, trying to figure out what to say. This was nothing like what I imagined our reunion to be like, nothing like the teary hugs that I had imagined. ¡°Why...why him? He didn¡¯t even...I mean, Joshua wasn¡¯t¡­¡±


    ¡°He was a better friend than you ever were,¡± she says ferociously, and the sudden malice in her words sends tears skipping to my eyes, and makes my whole body droop with sadness. I rip my gaze away from her, unable to look at the harshness in her eyes, and instead stare at the floor fighting to find the right words to say to her.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Alyssa, I didn¡¯t mean that,¡± she says after a moment, quieter this time. She takes a step forwards, and I stare at her with tears dripping down my cheeks. I don¡¯t know what to say to her, don¡¯t know how to tell her that I¡¯ve always been her friend, never once hated her, never once doubted her, never wanted to leave her side until the day my cancer forced me to do so.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°I know,¡± I say finally, folding my arms across my chest in sickened horror. ¡°I know you didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Joshua is...unlike anyone else that I¡¯ve ever met,¡± Marya says slowly, taking a step towards me with her jaw clenched tightly together. ¡°He looked at me, and he saw...someone beautiful. I didn¡¯t even see that in myself. He told me that there was hope, he told me that there was¡­ freedom. I can be myself around him, and I don¡¯t know how long it¡¯s been since I¡¯ve ever felt that about anyone. And I really think¡­ I think he loves me back. He¡¯s so vulnerable, Alyssa, if only you understood how much your words to him in the classroom hurt him . I think I¡¯ve really been able to help him. And I haven¡¯t felt like I was so needed in a long, long time.¡±


    I bite back bitter words threatening to gush off my tongue, and stare up at her face, my cheeks burning with shame. ¡°Could I really never be that to you?¡±


    She stands up much taller, her eyes sparking with a feverish kind of passion. There¡¯s something strange hanging over her, something that scalds my heart and makes me want to run away and never show my face again. ¡°Please stop making this about you. None of this is about you.¡± Her knees buckle and she falls to the ground, her face contorting in terrified anguish and her whole body shaking with anger. ¡°Did you really give your blessing? Did you really say that you wanted us to be together?¡±


    My heart is throbbing within me, but one look at her face removes any doubts. I know who I want to be, I know what I want to do. I care about Marya, I want her to know happiness, I want her to find joy. I don¡¯t want to get in the way of that anymore. So I reply the three words I know must be said. ¡°Yes, I did.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because¡­¡± I stop suddenly, because I don¡¯t really know why I said yes. Everything is falling apart, I can¡¯t grasp anything anymore, can¡¯t fully understand what I want of anything. But I tell her the only truth that I know. ¡°Because I care about you, Marya. And...I do want you to be happy. But I¡¯m still scared, because I miss you. And I¡¯m so afraid of losing you. I¡¯m sorry if I sound selfish or¡­¡±


    ¡°You looked at me with so much hatred that day, so much anger. I thought you hated me.¡± Tears are overflowing down her face, snot dripping into her mouth and her cheeks flushed and red. The hurt in her eyes takes my breath away, and I have to fight not to crumple with her.


    ¡°I don¡¯t hate you, Marya.¡±


    She doesn¡¯t reply, just stares up at me and shakes her head with a sad smile.


    ¡°And I know you don¡¯t hate me,¡± I add softly, staring at her with my heart stirring with deep compassion. I hold out my hand to her, holding it out steadily, an anchor for her to grab, a lifeboat to protect her from the stormy waves.


    She takes it, heaving herself up and meeting my eyes for a moment before tackling me in a hug.


    I cling to her, tears slipping down my cheeks as I squeeze her with all the strength still left in me. Both of us are crying, but I know that she is smiling just as big as I am.


    ¡°I love you, Lyssy,¡± she says roughly, a smile dancing across her cheeks.


    ¡°I love you too,¡± I whisper back, closing my eyes and breathing in the moment, taking it in, storing it in my heart so that when I die, I¡¯ll have those little moments, those little happy moments that I hope can ¡®flash before my eyes¡¯.


    ¡°Lyssy?¡±


    I look up at her expectantly, my smile disappearing when I see how serious she is. But she just clears her throat, giving me a smile and standing there silently for a moment. ¡°There¡¯s one more thing I have to tell you.¡±


    I nod quickly, clasping my hands together and staring up at her with a low tingle zipping across my skin. ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°Like...two weeks ago, when you were in the hospital, I...I gave my life to Jesus.¡±


    I find myself jumping backwards, shocked by the seriousness on her face, by the earnestness in her eyes. I don¡¯t know what to feel, can''t think beyond the dark clouds shrouding my mind.A strange pang in my heart tells me that I don''t want to hear it, don''t need to hear the preaching that I know will come next. But I know she''s waiting for me, know she wants me to respond. I just need to find the words to say.


    So I ask, pronouncing each word slowly and carefully, ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°It means freedom,¡± she whispers, a faraway look in her eyes. ¡°It means that even when the world seems against me, I have a daddy. A daddy who looks at me and sees someone worth fighting for, someone worth dying for. And he did. Die for me. So that I could be with him.¡±


    I flinch, my heart thumping wildly, and stare at her, shaking my head slightly. I know what she''s trying to do, she''s trying to get me to convert, trying to get me to join her. And I know I can''t accept that. But I can''t stop myself from asking about the one word I know changes everything. ¡°A...a daddy?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. He gave his life so that those who trust in him can be adopted, can live as his princes and princesses. He gave his life for you, Lyssy. For me. If you choose to follow him.¡±


    ¡°What are you saying?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m saying, but just¡­¡± she stops, and looks me straight in the eyes. ¡°If you ever think about joining me, you know where to find me.¡± She reaches into her back pocket, and pulls out a smooth leather book that I recognize as a bible. She places it gently in my hands, looks me straight in the eyes, and walks slowly back towards the car, closing the door behind her.

 Chapter 13

    The wind is whistling outside, rain is pounding on the roof. I can¡¯t sleep. My heart is still pounding, the world still spinning, the crisp new pages of the Bible still glistening in the harsh moonlight.


    I jump out of bed, pulling myself into a sitting position and jerking my hair out of my face. The rain drums against the roof, and I lean back against my bedframe, looking around the room with eyes still crusty from sleep. It¡¯s late at night, but my curtains aren¡¯t drawn, and I can see everything perfectly clearly.


    I stare at my own reflection in the mirror across the room for a minute, my eyes flicking from my messy hair to my bare feet dangling off the side of my bed. Words still haunt my feelings, a girl looked back at that reflection and saw something completely different from the girl that I saw. You, Alyssa Gray, are just like your mother.


    I stare at my reflection, and two frightened eyes stare back at me. The shadows have twisted my face, made me look strange, made me look darker. My skin is crawling, my body is shaking, I feel terrified, but somehow, I feel peace as well.


    If God were real, would he really look down at me and see someone worth dying for? Would he really look into my eyes and see a girl in them, a girl who needed a daddy? Would he really look beyond my mistakes, beyond the horrible things I had done, the horrible way I had treated Marya- and see a princess?


    I¡¯m completely frozen, unable to go back to bed, and unable to get up and find something else to do. I just sit there, fighting, struggling to breathe, to pretend that everything isn¡¯t still falling apart and I¡¯m just a normal kid living a normal life.


    But I know I¡¯m not.


    I riffle through the pages of my Bible, holding my breath as I run my thumb slowly through the pages, letting each one flip over and collapse on top of the one before it. Every second that passes, cancer is spreading over my body, the cells in my bone marrow slowly dying.


    I¡¯m running out of time.


    I suck in a deep, shaky breath, setting the Bible next to me and closing my eyes, letting the world spin around me for a moment before I pop them open and let the shadows settle over them again. Joshua¡¯s song still echoes softly out of the back of my mind, begging to be heard, begging to be spoken. But I just sit there, dreaming of a better life, a better world.


    Finally, the still rumble of the rain becomes too unbearable, I have to say something, have to break the silence. So I open up my mouth, pressing my tongue against the roof of my mouth and struggling to speak words to a person that I can¡¯t see, can¡¯t hear, can¡¯t feel. Struggling to speak words to a person that I¡¯m terrified might not exist, but even more scared that he will.


    ¡°Can you hear me?¡± I whisper hoarsely, curling my knees up against my chest and rocking against the beat of the wind.


    There is only silence, an eerie stillness that settles in my heart and sends another wave of darkness crashing on the stormy rocks.


    I sigh, my heart sinking inside me, and push the Bible away. It slips off the edge of the bed and thuds onto the ground, and I don¡¯t bend down to pick it up, instead just sitting there and staring at it for a long time before lying back down again and staring up at the ceiling. ¡°This wasn¡¯t supposed to happen,¡± I whisper to myself as I pull the covers over me and close my eyes softly. ¡°There should be so much more to life than this.¡±


    Sweat trickles down my neck, I keep my body completely still, and try to sink off to sleep, but it doesn¡¯t come. Thunder rumbles in the distance, my room lights up with flashes of lighting. I start trembling violently, I can hardly move, hardly breathe. A low tingle dances across my skin, and hot tears slip down my cheek, but I don¡¯t move, sweat plastering me to the covers.


    I laughed, I hugged Marya, I cried with her just a few hours ago, but the familiar ache won¡¯t leave me. I still can¡¯t forget, can¡¯t forget what has come to pass, can¡¯t tear myself away from the realisation that I am going to die someday. That someday, my life will be over, and she¡¯ll have to keep on living life as best as she knows how.


    I drop my foot to the ground and kick the Bible under the bed, swinging it back up and swaying softly with the wind. The rain has stopped pounding on the roof, there is only a light sprinkling now. I stare into the shadows, a shiver creeping up my neck, and sing, my voice a mere whisper, ¡°The ballad of a dove, go with peace and love, gather up your tears, keep ''em in your pocket, save ''em for a time when your really gonna need ''em oh¡­¡±


    I cut off abruptly, pushing the covers off of my tingling skin and standing up with a thud. Little rays of sunlight slowly peak beyond the clouds, the shadows are beginning to dull. I stand there for a moment with my arms hanging limply at my sides.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    I take a deep breath, completely unsure how to begin. But finally I manage to mumble a few words that I know will never be enough. ¡°God¡­ if you¡¯re up there, somewhere, then... please say something. I mean, I think I probably sound like an idiot right now, but I need to know.¡± I pause, hot tears slipping down my cheek. The wind whistles softly outside, my heart flutters like a bird struggling to fly.


    I fall to my knees, bowing my head and staring at the ground, trying desperately to get him to listen, to make him care, to say something that would be enough to get his attention. ¡°Is this it?¡± I cry, letting tears stream down my cheek and plunk on the ground. ¡°Is this all there is to life? To eat, breathe, sleep, and then die? Why did you put me here? Who are you?¡±


    The stillness is suffocating. I stand there waiting, struggling to find hope, to find love, to find peace, but nothing happens. Only a horrible emptiness that sweeps up my body and shatters every part of me.


    There¡¯s nothing left.


    I¡¯m still grabbing on, still hanging, still hoping that maybe there might be something worth living for, something worth clinging to. But when I ask, when I try to pray, when I try to cry out for help, no answer comes. And I¡¯m not sure how much longer I can hold on.


    I shove the tears out of my eyes. The sun is rising, steady rays of light shifting over the room. I stand up, refusing to look at my bloodshot eyes in the mirror, and instead stumbling downstairs, where Mum is already sitting on the couch waiting for me.


    She looks up when I enter, and she takes in the sight of the tears fresh on my cheeks, the sweat pouring down my back. She meets my eyes and we stare at each other for a minute, neither of us willing to do anything to break the silence. Finally, she scoots over on the couch and pats the cushion next to her, gesturing me towards her. ¡°Come sit down, Alyssa.¡±


    I don¡¯t say anything, just walking limply to the couch and slowly sitting down next to her, staring down at my lap with tears burning my eyes when she puts her arm around me. ¡°What can I do?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing you can do,¡± I whisper hoarsely, and my voice is so quiet that it¡¯s a wonder that she hears me.


    ¡°You were doing so much better these last couple days. What happened?¡±


    A burst of anger shoots through my skin, and more tears squeeze their way past my eyes and skitter down my cheek. ¡°You don¡¯t get it,¡± I snap, far too loudly, and I hang my head in shame when I see her hurt expression. I lower my head, my cheeks burning, and mumble, ¡°You think that this sickness is just something I can ¡°get over¡±. You think that because I had a good day, everything is suddenly behind me. Well better doesn¡¯t work like that.¡±


    Her hardens, and she stares at me with hurt and confusion in her eyes. I know she doesn¡¯t understand, she¡¯s trying, but she has no idea how I feel. She opens her mouth and then closes it again, like a goldfish gasping for air, and then says, ¡°Alyssa, don¡¯t go back to talking to me like that. I¡¯m trying to help you, for god¡¯s sake.¡±


    There¡¯s a sharpness in her voice that makes my whole body jump in fear, but I wipe the sticky tears off my face and murmur, ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Alyssa, I have to ask if you¡¯re ready. Because if you¡¯re not, we don¡¯t have to do this.¡±


    I¡¯m crying so hard that I can barely speak, but she pulls me into a hug, and I don¡¯t pull away, instead managing so sob into her shoulder, ¡°Yes, I do.¡±


    She rubs her hand slowly over my back, running her fingers through my hair and dribbling down my spine. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± she whispers, and I can see that she¡¯s crying too. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± she says again.


    I fall silent, and so does she, neither of us knowing what to say. We stay there a long time, curling up in each other¡¯s arms, neither of us willing to be the first to pull away. Finally, she murmurs, ¡°Just get past today, Alyssa, that¡¯s all you need. After today, it will be over until next week.¡±


    I pull away quickly, my face contorted in pain. ¡°You really weren¡¯t listening to anything the doctor said, were you?¡±


    Her eyes crinkle together, her shoulders rising defensively. ¡°Of course I was,¡± she protests, staring at me with deep confusion and sympathy in her eyes. ¡°Look, I know about how it¡¯s going to work, I didn¡¯t understand the full science of it, but I¡¯m not a doctor so-¡±


    ¡°So you think that this next week is going to be easy? You think that I get the immediate dosage and then the hard part is over? Don¡¯t you get it? This changes everything. This isn¡¯t just some random treatment, Mum, this is chemo.¡±


    ¡°I know that,¡± she cries defensively, putting her hands up with her face crumbling with sadness. ¡°I was just trying to encourage you that they¡¯re giving you time to rest. And it¡¯s going to be hard, Alyssa, I know that, but hair will grow back once you¡¯re off of the therapy. And we can handle a little vomiting, right?¡±


    ¡°He also said that I might lose my hearing,¡± I point out with a muffled sob. ¡°And that my blood count will significantly lower and I¡¯ll be at risk of getting all kind of other stuff.¡±


    ¡°He said ¡®might¡¯, Alyssa, he was trying to prepare us for all of the options. But you are not going to lose your hearing.¡± There¡¯s a fierce sort of passion in her voice, and I look at her face and am started to see the strength in her eyes, the fire lighting up her face. She¡¯s not giving up. And seeing her makes me feel that I won¡¯t either.


    ¡°Be strong,¡± she whispers, brushing her hands over my cheeks. ¡°For my sake, Alyssa, if not for your own.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± I agree finally, giving her the biggest smile I can choke up. I wipe the tears off my cheek and give her a tiny nod. ¡°I will.¡±


    She¡¯s smiling through her tears, and she stands up, walking slowly towards the kitchen. ¡°We will never, ever give up.¡±

 Chapter 14

    The doctor stares at me with his beady black eyes, sighing and running his hands through his thick, curly black hair. ¡°Hello, dear,¡± he says gently when he sees me, and I grip Mum¡¯s hand so hard that I can see her face turn pale.


    ¡°Hello,¡± Mum says, her voice cracking slightly. Her back is completely straight, like a pencil pointing sharply up to the sky, and her eyes cold and fearful. She squeezes my hand back, and we both stand there for a second, staring at the doctor as he stands up from his chair and walks briskly towards us, holding out his hand for Mum to shake.


    ¡°My name is Dr. Anderson, and it¡¯s my pleasure to be able to help you today. Here at UCLA, we work hard to make sure that everyone can have a healthy and thriving future.¡± He recites the words like a robot with a speech already prepared, and it¡¯s all that I can take to keep from cringing and running out the door. My heart is thumping wildly, my whole future rests on this man and what he does to me.


    Mum stares at his hand disdainfully, making no move as if to shake it. ¡°We know that,¡± she says sharply, and she takes a step towards him, her eyes blazing with a mixture of fury and terror. ¡°But what can you give my daughter?¡±


    He nods and gestures towards several chairs in front of his desk, and me and Mum sit down together. He sits down on his own wheeled chair and gives us a watery smile. ¡°I can assure you that we are doing everything that we can, Ms. Gray. Unfortunately, your daughter¡¯s cancer is already very much rooted in her body, and we¡¯re not sure how much we can help at this stage. We are doing what we can to prolong the symptoms as she begins the chemotherapy, and afterwards the transplant- and I assure you, we will find a donor- but at the current stage, we can¡¯t expect to get rid of the cancer completely.¡±


    I lower my head, fighting to keep tears from popping into my eyes. I knew that, I don¡¯t know why it hurts me so much to hear him so that, but I know that I¡¯ll fight. Even if they can¡¯t get rid of the cancer, then I¡¯ll give it everything I can. I won¡¯t let this cancer crush me. But I¡¯m scared that it already has.


    There is a moment of silence, and Dr. Anderson folds his hands together and stares at us intently before he begins typing some notes on a large computer next to him. ¡°I assume you¡¯re ready to begin the chemotherapy today?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s ready,¡± Mum says quickly, but he looks past her and meets my eyes.


    ¡°I want to hear from your daughter, if you please.¡±


    My whole body seems frozen, my tears blurring the world around me into a fading grey. I can barely manage a nod, barely manage to mumble a ¡°Yes, sir¡±, and the words slip off my tongue and into the cold, sterile air.


    ¡°Very good, my dear. I know this takes a lot of courage, but you¡¯re very brave to be here today. We¡¯re going to help you as much as we can, okay?¡± His voice changes when he¡¯s talking to me, like I¡¯m some kind of a baby who can¡¯t understand what he¡¯s talking about. I nod slowly, standing up and brushing dust off of my stiff black dress.


    He takes my hand, and his hand is cold and clammy. I force myself not to pull away as he stands up and walks me down the hall, and Mum trails behind us with her jaw clenched together and her hands balled into fists. She¡¯s as scared as I am. Maybe more.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    We spin around the corner, and as he swings open the thick metal door to reveal a room that takes my breath away.


    It¡¯s a huge room, full of large, comfy couches and a thick rug on the floor. Everywhere I see people, sitting on couches with needles pressed into their arms, doctors sitting next to them, children gathered around them, husbands, mothers, siblings¡­ none of them as young as me. An aching feeling courses through my body, hurt swirls around my head, desperate for a place to stop wandering and finally settle down. All of these people are just like me.


    Dr. Anderson¡¯s voice slices through my foggy mind, and I spin around to look at him and Mum.


    ¡°Now, Alyssa-¡± he cuts off and taps his nose thoughtfully. ¡°\We¡¯re going to take this slowly, and after today, you¡¯ll have a week to rest before your second round. I¡¯m going to give you some drugs before you start, to try to make the transition as smooth as possible. It will only last about an hour.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I mumble in agreement, clutching my hands together so hard that my knuckles gleam white.


    Mum¡¯s hand tightens around my waist, and I fight to take a shaky breath, meeting her eyes and giving a tiny nod. Her eyes are wet with tears, but I don¡¯t cry with her. I have to stay strong. I have to fight this.


    I force myself to look away as he slaps on his gloves, tightens the plastic apron around his waist, leading me slowly to a large sofa pushed against the wall. ¡°Please do make yourself comfortable,¡± he says gently, adjusting the pillows for me to sit back. I lean back, my eyes on Mum the whole time.


    Her face is a deathly pale, and she¡¯s shaking wildly, tears slipping down her cheeks. She¡¯s gripping my shoulder so hard that I have to fight not to pull away from her.


    Dr. Anderson bends down onto his knee, a large needle in his right hand. He takes my hand and looks up at me with his sharp eyes. ¡°Are you ready?¡± He says slowly as he wipes a wet cloth smoothly over my hand.


    I rub a lock of my hair slowly between my thumb and forefinger, breathing in the smell of the shampoo I lathered on it last night. ¡°I¡¯m ready,¡± I breathe, and I look up directly at Mum, not tearing my eyes away from her even when I feel the sharp pain in my hand and I know that the needle has gone in. I feel gauze wrapping slowly around my hand, and I let my hand fall to my lap, looking down at the needle protruding from beneath my skin. Right now, it¡¯s completely empty, just sitting there waiting, waiting for something to plug into it, to give it what it needs to fight the disease.


    But fighting requires sacrifice. Victory requires death.


    And so, as the doctor leads the IV over to the couch, jams the liquid into my skin, I close my eyes and breath in slowly, relaxing my body fully against the couch and taking deep breaths- in and out, in and out. Mum watches me closely, and I fight against the fear threatening to light up my face, against the tears trying to shove their way into my eyes. I can¡¯t let them come, can¡¯t let them touch me, can¡¯t let them be part of the journey I know I have to take.


    I watch the liquid slowly drip, the drops of water flowing down the long tube and spiraling into my hand, it¡¯s steady beat like an echo of an old, forgotten song that nobody wanted to sing.


    The doctor stays there with me for a mere moment before he goes off to talk to someone else, leaving me and Mum alone with the needle and strangers across from us with nothing in common with us except for the treatment that they are receiving. The two of us stay in silence for a long time, until Mum finally clears her throat, her eyes fixed on the needle protruding from my hand.


    ¡°Look, let¡¯s get your head shaved right away, okay? To spare us having to watch your hair fall out piece by piece.¡±


    I rub my fingers along the tube, shrugging my shoulders and struggling not to meet her eyes. ¡°Okay.¡± I struggle to sound careless but my voice cracks and she knows how scared I am.


    She shifts in her seat, massaging her forehead delicately, her face twisted in terrified horror. ¡°I¡¯ll take you after work tomorrow.¡±


    A dull ache washes over my body, and I mumble, ¡°Can¡¯t you stay with-¡±


    But she cuts me off, her voice bitter with crushed hopes and confused fragments of memories. ¡°I will take you after work tomorrow,¡± she says again, and the catch in her voice tells me once and for all that I shouldn¡¯t ask again.

 Chapter 15

    ¡°I¡¯m done fighting, God,¡± I whisper.  ¡°I¡¯m done running.  If you¡¯re up there, if you really care, then please, please help me.  I¡¯ll do anything, anything you want me to do, if you just take this away from me.¡±


    The whole world is still, as if waiting, waiting for a breath, a whisper, a sign.  The early sunshine peeks out from behind the clouds, the world screeches to a halt, dreaming of an answer.


    But none comes.


    The wind sweeps by me, tossing at my hair, the sun slips back behind the clouds, the early morning dew sparkles with a trace of what has been forgotten.  Maybe God heard me, but he didn¡¯t care enough to answer.


    I take out the Bible and lay it gently on the ground, turning it¡¯s crisp pages softly in my hands.  ¡°The chemo¡¯s in my body right now,¡± I plead, my voice cracking.  ¡°Every minute more cells are being destroyed.  This afternoon Mum¡¯s going to cut off my hair.  If you¡¯re up there, you have to do something now.  You have to stop this before it¡¯s too late.¡±


    A strange tingle crawls over me, and somehow I know that I¡¯m not alone.  Someone is still listening.  Ssomeone can hear me.


    So I lift my hands slowly upwards, ice cold tears slowly dripping down my cheeks and crashing on the floor.  I¡¯m speaking, my words crashing into the still air and echoing silently around me.  I spill out everything that I can think to say, desperate to tell my story to the one person who might be able to listen. ¡°God¡­ you have everything.  You are everything.  I don¡¯t know why you would care about me when you have so much more.  To you, maybe I¡¯m nothing.  But if you are there, and if you do care, then please¡­ please don¡¯t forget your daughter.  Please do something.¡±  I lower my hands and bow my head, a shiver tingling over me.  ¡°I need you,¡± I whisper, and then I fall silent, just listening.  Just waiting.


    And then everything seems to shift.


    The colors blur together, the wind begins to whirl around me.  The sky darkens suddenly, the world picking up, moving suddenly, swirling.  Leaves tumble from the tree above me, fluttering onto my lap, birds alighting on branches and tilting their heads as if staring in wonder at what is occurring.  My heart is thumping wildly, my whole body trembling, I feel terrified, and yet at the same time, I feel a strange, sad sort of peace.


    And then the moment ends as quickly as it began, the wind suddenly stopping and the sky lighting up again.  I still feel unbearably sad, but somehow, I feel so much less empty.  So much less desperate.


    I stand up quickly, sweeping the Bible up into my hands and going slowly inside.  I¡¯m alone, Mum is at work.  I wander aimlessly through the rooms, and stop when I get to the kitchen.


    The scissors are lying on the counter, glittering in the orange light.  I walk dazedly towards them and open them slowly, pressing the sharp side to my head and slowly closing them over my hair.  Long strands tumble to the ground, but I keep moving the scissors, grabbing large handfuls of hair and letting them float away.  I don¡¯t want to let a stranger do it for me, just want to be the one to watch it fall myself.  It¡¯s better that way.


    I know that my hair is a mess, know that the jagged edges look hideous against my face, but I don¡¯t care anymore.  I stumble out of the room, sweeping the hair off of the floor and into a trash can and staring up at the paint peeling off of the ceiling.  I wonder what Mum will say when she sees me like this.


    I carefully avoid mirrors as I leave, shoving the curtains over the windows to stop anyone from seeing through to me.  A strange emptiness crawls overy my skin, and I tilt my head slowly from side to side, feeling a deep ache settle over me when no hair flips backwards to my shoulders.  No more plastic hair clips, no more gently brushing out the knots, no more watching it fly behind me in the wind.  That world is behind me.  I¡¯m here now.


    I wonder what God would have thought of what I did, wonder if he would have wanted me to wait.  I¡¯m still not sure what this means, and not sure how this should affect me or my life.  I know that it matters, I¡¯ve never felt that more than now.  But I just don¡¯t know how.  I don¡¯t know what to do about the knowledge that he might exist.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    I pick my Bible up from where I left it on the kitchen counter, switching it from hand to hand, and sit down on the couch, flipping it open to a random page and beginning to read.


    Sentences flow into one another, complicated verses looming in the distance, thick with implied meanings that I¡¯m not sure I understand.  Each word is rich with depth, with strange, twisted sort of meaning.  The truths inside it are so strange...so different from anything that I have ever heard before.  I know that they will change everything, and yet even Christians don¡¯t seem to live out what the book seems to say.


    But then I flip the page and my eyes drift to a verse that takes my breath away, bringing tears popping to my eyes.  I don¡¯t understand, don¡¯t understand what it means or what it says.  It doesn¡¯t make sense.  And yet it awakens something within me, something that I¡¯m scared to have awakened.


    Jesus is standing outside the tomb of a dead man, consoling two sisters whose brother has just passed away.  They are shocked and angry, confused about why Jesus did not come and save him earlier.  Tears slip down my cheeks, and I flip the page quickly, soaking in every word and treasuring it in my heart,¡° ¡®I am the resurrection and the life¡¯, ¡± I read aloud.   ¡° ¡®The one who believes in me will live, even though they die, and whoever lives by believing in me will never die.  Do you believe this?¡¯ ¡±


    I stare at the words for a long time, lost and confused by what I know is supposed to be a comfort.  It doesn¡¯t make sense.  Christians do die, no one lives forever.  Not even Jesus can stop death.


    And so I slowly fumble for my phone, and click on the contact that I know I have to talk to.  Know I have to hear from.


    The phone begins to beep, and it barely takes a moment before Marya responds and I hear her voice on the other end.  ¡°Lyssy?¡±


    I¡¯m quiet for a long time before I finally work up the strength to answer.  ¡°Yeah,¡± I say, but my voice is so quiet that I know she couldn¡¯t have heard me.  So I say again, louder, ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± she stops suddenly, and I hear her take a deep breath before she continues.  ¡°I¡¯m sorry.  Last time we talked, I was really scared.  I ran off before I really had the chance to share the truth with you.  I guess I was just really¡­  I don¡¯t know, Lyssy, I wasn¡¯t sure what you would say,¡±


    I speak slowly, pronouncing each word and trying not to burst into tears.  ¡°It¡¯s okay, Marya, really.  But I don¡¯t understand the book.  I think I need help.¡±


    There¡¯s a long silence, and then she says quietly, ¡°I think you should talk to Joshua.  He¡¯ll be able to help better than I can.¡±


    A pang of hatred hits my heart before I can stop it, and I stand up quickly, fighting for the right words to say.  I don¡¯t want to visit Joshua, don¡¯t want to see his face again.  It¡¯s a long time that I stand there, too scared to tell her no, but unable to say yes.  Finally, I say, ¡°Marya, please, this isn¡¯t about him.  I want to hear it from you.  My best friend.¡±


    She sighs dramatically, but there¡¯s compassion in her voice when she replies.  ¡°What do you want to know, Lyssy?¡±


    I chew my lip thoughtfully before beginning, and then speak slowly, each word careful and well pronounced.  ¡°What does it mean when it says that Jesus is the life?  I mean, obviously Christians don¡¯t live forever.  Is it talking about, like, heaven and stuff?  Or-¡±


    She cuts me off, and there¡¯s a certain softness, a certain maturity in her voice that I haven¡¯t heard before.  ¡°It means that this life isn¡¯t it, Lyssy.  Jesus took death upon himself, and he died for us on a cross so that we could know life through him.¡±


    She is silent for a long time after that, and I don¡¯t know what to say, her words filling the emptiness around me and filling me with a strange sort of curiosity, of dark fascination.  ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±


    She sighs and I can almost see her shaking her head on the other end, her dark eyes narrowed into slits and her hair swooshing around her head.  But she just says, ¡°You will someday.¡±


    A twinge of hurt fills my mind, and I feel again like she¡¯s afraid to tell me, scared of what will happen if I reject what she has to say.  She¡¯s still being so vague, so unwilling to answer my questions and so determined to push me out.  I sigh and let my finger hover over the red phone on the screen, murmuring to her, ¡°Goodbye, then.¡±


    ¡°Bye, Lyssy,¡± she replies, and the screen turns black.


    I curl up on the couch, my brain strangely foggy and my whole body numb.  Despite all of the nausea medicine that Mum gave me with morning, I still feel like I¡¯m going to vomit.  I stroke the Bible gently, my mind soaring with images, pictures, confused thoughts of a savior who died.  I¡¯m not sure what that means.  Or how he can be dead and still be a savior.


    But I just close my eyes and give in to the overpowering urge to fall back into sleep.

 Chapter 16

    Loud shouting echoes up the stairs, leaping towards my room and pounding in my ears. I stand numbly at the top of the stairs, gripping the banister to stop myself from tumbling backward.


    ¡°Get away from me. Get away.¡± Marya¡¯s voice. I grit my teeth together so hard that I can feel the blood draining from my cheeks. I want to run down, want to protest, want to scream at them both, but my feet are frozen to the ground. I can¡¯t move. All I want to do is listen.


    ¡°For God¡¯s sake, Marya, I don¡¯t want to hurt you.¡± Mum is screaming now, and I choke back the bile rising in my throat, bending down and straining to see them.


    ¡°You¡¯ve always wanted to hurt me.¡± Marya¡¯s voice is seething with bitterness. ¡°You¡¯ve never cared about me, and you never thought about the fact that I might actually care about Alyssa. I just wanted to be her friend, and you rejected me.¡±


    I don¡¯t listen to hear Mum¡¯s response, just running back to my room and struggling to find something to naturally cover my bald head. I grab a cloth and tie it around my head, wincing at how unnatural it looks, but too scared to stop and do anything about it. I stand in the doorway of my room, gasping for breath and fighting the lightheadedness tingling at the edges of my brain.


    I run. I¡¯m leaping towards them, flying down the steps with my feet barely seeming to touch the ground. I¡¯m floating, soaring, murky black clouds barely managing to keep me from toppling over as I thud into Marya and hold out my hands to desperately pull them apart.


    I feel horribly sick, but I can¡¯t tell anymore if it¡¯s the chemo or just leukemia.


    ¡°Alyssa,¡± Mum cries, grabbing my shoulders and thrusting me back. Her eyes are only on me now, bent in compassion, pain, and a little bit of guilt. ¡°I¡¯m sorry if we woke you.¡±


    ¡°I was already awake,¡± I assure her, but I¡¯m already spinning around to look at Marya. She''s wearing a long black dress, with her long auburn hair slung in a braid on her shoulder. Her face is covered in makeup, the same way Mum''s was when I was in the hospital. I realize in sudden shock that it''s her way of trying to tell herself that everything is normal. Her mouth is slightly open, and her whole body rigid and still, but what hurts me most is how she¡¯s looking at me.


    She¡¯s staring at the top of my head, her eyebrows crinkled together and her head tilted in sorrow. An ache sweeps slowly over me and I refuse to look her in the eyes, turning back to look at Mum. But when I speak, I¡¯m talking to Marya.


    ¡°You gave me a book that you said would change everything, but you¡¯re not letting it change you,¡± I say quietly, letting my fingers flutter to the cloth on my head and pressing it to my scalp. ¡°I didn¡¯t read much, but I know what I did read. It talked about love, forgiveness, and grace. It talked about hope, and healing beyond belief that can come only from a relationship with Jesus. Why are you still so bitter? Why can¡¯t you forgive Mum?¡±


    But Marya barely even seems to have heard what I said. She¡¯s staring unflinchingly at the cloth, and I know she¡¯s figured out what¡¯s beneath it. Her eyes narrow slightly, and her voice is hard and cold when she finally speaks. ¡°Take off the cloth, Alyssa.¡±


    My heart jerks to a sudden stop before hitting back to motion again, and I stand there frozen, my hands slowly lifting towards my bald scalp, turning around to look directly into her eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t do this.¡± I stare down at my bare arms and legs, at the food on the table that I refused to eat, the ache in my throat. The chemo has been in my body for two weeks, and my body is breaking from the pressure.


    Marya raises her voice louder, her eyes flashing with terrified anger. ¡°Take off the cloth, Alyssa,¡± she repeats fiercely, her cheeks burning scarlet. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°Marya,¡± my Mum protests loudly, and I can hear the defensiveness in her voice. But Marya ignores her, her long, bony fingers stretching towards my head and grabbing the cloth.


    I start to pull away in defense, but she already has a hold on the cloth, and it slips slowly off, revealing the bald, shiny scalp beneath it. Mum took me to get it cut, it¡¯s smooth now, but I know that it¡¯s still hideously ugly.


    I¡¯m vulnerable. Ashamed. Naked. A gust of air dances across the top of my head, and I grit my teeth together to keep the tears from thudding into my eyes.


    Marya gasped, letting the cloth slip out of her fingers and flutter to the ground. She inches towards me, hand outstretched, reaching for my head. It¡¯s shaking violently, a deathly white.


    But Mum grabs her hand mid-air, pushing it backward and glaring at Marya with fierce anger in her eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t touch her,¡± she says with a low growl, and I close my eyes and struggle to take deep breaths.


    ¡°Look, it¡¯s just chemo, Marya, it¡¯s not a big deal,¡± I protest, placing my hands on my head and shivering at the cold emptiness I feel.


    She yanks her hand away from Mum and glares at me, her eyes a flame of fire. ¡°Of course it¡¯s a big deal, Alyssa, please don¡¯t soften this for me. I just want the truth. I¡¯m sick and tired of being kicked off to the side.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s telling the truth, for god¡¯s sake, Marya,¡± Mum snaps, her face contorted in pain. ¡°I thought it was a big deal at first too. But you have to realize what¡¯s at stake here. There are terrible things that are going to happen if she doesn¡¯t do this. We can sacrifice her hair if it will give us back her life.¡±


    Marya flinches at those last words, twisting her fingers around her braid and rubbing her hair between her thumb and forefinger. ¡°Can¡¯t you get a wig or something?¡±


    I grab the cloth from her and tie it back over my head. She lets her hand fall to the ground, staring at me carefully as I respond. ¡°I asked not to,¡± I tell her slowly. ¡°I was¡­ tired of covering it up, I guess. I didn¡¯t want to keep pretending anymore, because¡­¡± I cut off and look at Mum, who gives me a tiny nod. ¡°Everything wasn¡¯t normal,¡± I continue. ¡°Even when I tried to make it that way. I didn¡¯t want to tell myself that I still had hair when really I knew it was just a trick.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s stupid,¡± Marya says bluntly, tugging her braid fiercely. My heart grinds against my chest, and I struggles to breathe normally as Mum puts her hand gently on my shoulder. ¡°Everything can be normal, Alyssa, the only thing stopping you from truly living is yourself. Just let go of your fear, put on the wig.¡±


    Mum¡¯s hand tightens on my shoulder, and I jolt backward in shock, struggling to register what she said. ¡°It¡¯s not¡­¡± I say slowly, carefully measuring each word. ¡°It¡¯s not like that at all, Marya.¡± I stop and stare at her determinedly, clenching my fingers into fists. ¡°Maybe you would understand if you just took the time to call me Lyssy again.¡±


    Mum quickly lets go of my shoulder, and I see confusion and hurt spray over Marya¡¯s face. She lowers her head, and I see her cheeks glowing red with shame. ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°Ever since you walked in here today, you¡¯ve just called me Alyssa. I want to hear you call me Lyssy again. Please don¡¯t be afraid of what Mum will say. Just call me Lyssy.¡±


    She looks up at me, and there are tears in her black eyes. She looks hesitant, ashamed, unsure of herself. But she just says, ¡°Okay.¡± She stops for a moment, and then adds with a sheepish smile, ¡°Lyssy.¡±


    ¡°My wig is my decision,¡± I say firmly, and she nods slowly, understanding slowly creeping across her face.


    ¡°I understand,¡± she says softly.


    I lean back into Mum, and she stumbles back a little under my weight but doesn¡¯t say anything, just letting the two of us talk. Marya and I stand there for a moment, staring into each other¡¯s eyes, and then she grabs her silver purse with her long, curved nails, and says, ¡°Anyway, I should probably be going. But did you read the book?¡±


    ¡°Little bits of it,¡± I say as Mum throws me a strange look. I know I¡¯ve mentioned it several times in the conversation, but I realize suddenly that I haven¡¯t told Mum about Marya¡¯s gift.


    Marya nods thoughtfully and grabs my hand one last time before she goes out. ¡°You have my number,¡± she reminds me. ¡°But you also have Joshua¡¯s. And he¡¯s waiting to hear from you.¡±


    Something about the way that she¡¯s looking at me makes me desperately want to give in, so unafraid to stop fighting. So I nod and say, ¡°I¡¯ll call him.¡±


    Her face lights up, and she bites back a smile as she slides the door shut. ¡°He¡¯ll like that.¡±


    ¡°Goodbye, Marya,¡± Mum says as she leaves, and Marya¡¯s eyes flicker with doubt, but then she smiles again, and the door creaks shut. I move slowly over to the window and watch slowly as she moves back to her car, looking at Mum and trying to figure out what she¡¯s thinking.


    Mum gives me a sad smile and holds her arms out as I stumble towards her and wrap her in a hug.

 Chapter 17

    I look down at the address one more time, narrowing my eyes and rapping hard on the door.  I hold my breath as I hear footprints thudding down the hall, and the door swings open, revealing Joshua standing there with an easy smile on his face.


    I¡¯m not wearing a cloth this time, or anything to cover my bald head.  I simply stand there looking at him, watching his take in the sight of my chemo and struggling to look like it¡¯s not a big deal.  I give him a forced smile as he gestures me in and opens up the door widely.  ¡°I¡¯m so glad you came, Alyssa.¡±


    I chew my lip thoughtfully, peering through the door and into the brightly lit hallway.  The house is huge, far bigger than Mum¡¯s, with lots of spaced out furniture and all of the windows open.  The decorations are relatively simple, but somehow familiar and warm.


    He clears his throat, and grabs my hand, leading me into the house.  I realize that he¡¯s waiting for me to say something, so I mumble an agreement and shut the door behind me, folding my hands together and following him aimlessly down the hall.  I hear voices in the kitchen, and I see Marya walking out from behind the door, her face lighting up when she sees me.


    ¡°Alyssa, come join us,¡± she says quietly, and she links her arm around my shoulder as we walk into the kitchen and sit down at a long, wooden table.  Joshua and Marya sit down next to each other, and I sit down across from them, my heart thumping in my chest.


    Marya rests her head on her hands and stares at me with a deep expression on her face.  They¡¯re waiting for me to speak, I realize, but I have no idea what to say.


    ¡°Thank you for inviting me,¡± I say finally.  ¡°I have¡­ a lot of questions.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll try to answer them as best I can, Alyssa,¡± Joshua says, giving me a small smile that somehow makes my fear drift away.  ¡°But first tell me more about yourself.  I don¡¯t know you very well, except through Marya.¡±  He winks at Marya, and she giggles, making a strange sort of anger rush into my heart.


    I don¡¯t know why he¡¯s doing this, and I wonder if he¡¯s stalling.  I¡¯m sick and tired of waiting, I just want the truth.  So I say, slowly, ¡°There¡¯s not much to tell.¡±


    ¡°Sure there is,¡± he says smoothly, and I try to fight the disgust curling in my heart.  I don¡¯t know what he¡¯s trying to do, but it¡¯s not what I came here for.  I came here to hear the truth.  And I don¡¯t know what to say now.


    Marya cuts in for me, and her familiar voice reminds me that she¡¯s still there supporting me.  ¡°Joshua, let¡¯s talk about the book, for heaven¡¯s sake.¡±


    He looks over at her with doubt in his eyes, but then he looks back at me, and he says, ¡°Okay, geez, I was just trying to-¡±


    ¡°Now is not the time,¡± I interrupt him, and the sharpness in my voice surprises me.  I ignore Marya¡¯s glare, and dribble my fingers along the edge of the table frustratedly, gritting my teeth together to stop the anger crashing within me.  ¡°Look, I didn¡¯t come here to hang around discussing the weather.  If you have something to say, then say it.  If you don¡¯t, then thank you for wasting my time, I actually thought you had something to offer for once.¡±


    ¡°Ouch,¡± Marya mumbles under her breath, and I flinch, waiting for another stinging comment.  But all she says is, ¡°That hurt, Lyssy.¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I say quickly, regret twisting inside my stomach.  I take a deep breath, fumbling for the right words and struggling to know what to say.  ¡°What I''m trying to say is that if this is true, this changes everything.  And I''m not going to waste my time with awkward small talk.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± Joshua agrees, and his indifferent manner sends hurt and frustration uncoiling within me.  ¡°Where do you want to begin?¡±


    I flip open the Bible on the bed next to me, and scroll to the page that I remember contains the words I want. 876.  John 11.  He looks at me carefully as I hand him the book.  ¡°Here.¡±


    He takes the book gently and begins to read the story out loud, his deep, rumbling voice capturing the story in perfect detail and beauty.  He reads about Lazarus, a friend of Jesus on the verge of dying.  Lazarus is sick, in horrible pain, desperate for the only person to come whom he knows can help him.  Jesus has performed many miracles and helped many sick people before, and Lazarus and his sisters cling to the hope that Jesus will heal Lazarus too.  But instead, Jesus waits, choosing to stay where he is instead of visiting and offering to heal Lazarus.  By the time he finally arrives, Lazarus has been dead for four days.  His sisters are devastated, both confused and angry about what Jesus has done.  Both of them individually say the same thing:  ¡°Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.¡±  They know that Jesus would have healed him, but they are confused and upset about why he didn¡¯t.  They lead him to the tomb, and Jesus begins to weep, moved with compassion and sorrow towards his dead friend.  He asks that they open the tomb, and although they are confused and unsure about the request, they trust Jesus, and out of complete faith in him, they do so anyway.  He prays to God, beginning not by begging God and whining, but with a simple word of thanks.  He praises God for always being there for him, always listening to his prayers and doing what is best for him.  Then he cries out, ¡°Lazarus, come out¡±, and Lazarus appears dressed in burial clothing.  He has risen from the dead.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Joshua¡¯s lilting voice rolls to a stop, and he looks at me and Marya both very thoughtfully, a strange, deep look in his eyes.  ¡°Have you heard that story before?¡± he asks Marya, and Marya wordlessly shakes her head.


    We sit there in silence for a long time, each of us running over the words in our mind and treasuring them in our hearts.  None of us really know what to say, but the silence is enough.  The grand impossibility of the story and the depth of meaning hidden within it is unlike anything else I have ever heard.  I want so desperately to believe that it¡¯s true, but I don¡¯t understand what it means.  Or what some guy a long time ago should have to do with me.


    ¡°Why did Jesus wait?¡± Marya asks, her hands folded in her lap.  ¡°Why would he let the sisters suffer and watch him die when he could have healed Lazarus from the beginning?¡±


    Joshua pauses with the Bible nestled on his lap, licking his lips and looking at Marya carefully.  ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he says honestly.  He gives her a small smile,  and I see him looking at me out of the corners of his eyes.  I feel lost and confused, waiting for answers but tired of people avoiding giving them.  I know that there¡¯s more, and I¡¯m not leaving until I hear it.


    ¡°But I do know that Jesus had a plan.¡±  He gestures down at the book and leans forward, a faraway look in his eyes. ¡°A plan for his glory to be revealed to the rest of humanity.  He says in verse four that Lazarus¡¯ sickness would not end in death but in the glory of God.  Jesus recognized that healing could happen, and I think the healing that he was talking about went far beyond physical healing.  Jesus was going to show them who he was, and reveal his power to them.  And he couldn''t do that unless he let Lazarus die.¡±


    ¡°But why would Jesus heal Lazarus if he only died again afterward?¡± I say sharply, doubt tugging at my heart.


    Joshua''s eyes crinkle together and he looks at me in bewilderment.  ¡°What do you mean?  Lazarus lived through it- Jesus raised him to life again.¡±  His voice is slow, each word cautious and careful.


    ¡°So can I meet him?¡± I ask skeptically, shooting a quick look at Marya and then turning back to him again.


    He gives a small laugh, as if not sure whether or not I¡¯m joking.  ¡°Of course not, Alyssa, this was over two thousand years ago-¡±


    I cut him off.  I¡¯ve heard enough.  ¡°So he¡¯s dead.¡±


    He stares at me with understanding slowly creeping across his face, and I know he knows what I mean.  He rubs the back of his neck, and he looks unsure how to respond, but finally, he says, ¡°Yes, Alyssa, he¡¯s dead.¡±


    ¡°Then how can I know that we¡¯re dealing with a healing that lasts?¡±  I murmur, raising my head and looking at him directly in the eyes.  ¡°How can I be sure that whatever Jesus can give me won¡¯t just fade away?¡±


    He sighs, and there¡¯s compassion in his eyes when he responds.  ¡°Alyssa, do you think Lazarus would have asked to live forever if he had the chance?¡±


    I think for a second, but I don¡¯t know what to say.  I don¡¯t know Lazarus, the book never shows the story from his point of view.  So I say simply, ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    He nods, and something about the way he¡¯s looking at me sends a shiver tingling through my fingertips.  He pauses for a second, studying me, and then says, ¡°Do you think you would ask to live forever if you could?¡±


    My first reaction is an automatic ''yes'', to say that of course I would, it¡¯s natural to.  But my tongue catches on the roof of my throat and I realize that I¡¯m not sure I would.  I stop suddenly, unsure what to say or what to feel.  Finally, I mumble again, ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    Joshua nods thoughtfully, and I see Marya nodding right along with him.  A slow peace trickles over my skin, and something about the words that he says makes me feel warm inside- happy, even.  But then he says one more question, and for a brief second, I stop breathing.  ¡°Do you think that a fulfilling life is the same thing as a long life?¡±


    I shake my head, pressing my hand to my heart and feeling it¡¯s slow, steady beating.  ¡°No,¡± I say simply.


    ¡°So what would a fulfilling life look like to you?¡±


    I don¡¯t know what to say, don¡¯t know how to explain all of the feelings that are rushing through my head.  So I say the simple words again that I¡¯m tired of saying but don¡¯t know what else to say.  ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

 Chapter 18

    Mum gently dabs the blood on my leg, pressing the cool washcloth to my skin and fighting to look casual.  ¡°It will heal, Alyssa, I¡¯m sure of it.¡±


    I don¡¯t say anything, just staring at her with bloodshot eyes.  It will never heal. We both know it. The chemo will stop wounds from healing until it¡¯s over, and even if it didn¡¯t, the leukemia is already at work making my wounds gush open and giving me cuts and bruises that I don¡¯t remember getting.


    ¡°It¡¯s like a battle wound,¡± she says gently, and I grimace in pain as she runs cleaner over the scrape, trying desperately to suck in deep breaths.  ¡°It¡¯s a badge of honor worn by a girl who never stopped fighting.¡± She smiles weakly, but there¡¯s fear glowing in her eyes.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I whisper hoarsely.  The world dances around me, and it¡¯s hard to move, hard to keep focusing on what she¡¯s doing.


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡±


    She frowns and tries to rub cream on the wound, but it just mixes with my blood and smears all over my leg.  ¡°I don¡¯t know what to do, Alyssa. We have to get it to stop bleeding. Will you hold on while I go get the cancer handout?¡±


    I nod shakily, fighting the grey spots clouding over my eyes.  I grip the chair to keep myself from tumbling backward, pushing on the wound to stop more blood from spurting out.  I hear things clattering to the ground in the kitchen and I feel a twinge of anger that she hasn¡¯t put it in somewhere easily accessible.


    She bursts back in with the book clasped in her hands, and takes the cloth from me, wincing when blood drips out of it.  ¡°It¡¯s not a deep cut at all, Alyssa. I don¡¯t get it.¡±


    But the fear in her eyes tells me that she knows exactly what¡¯s going on.


    The world spins wildly around me, and I grit my teeth together to keep from crying out.  I can barely feel the blood trickling down my leg- everything is numb. Just numb.


    ¡°Mum, it isn¡¯t working,¡± I mumble, hot tears searing my cheeks.  ¡°The chemo isn¡¯t working.¡±


    She¡¯s turning pages furiously, and she pretends not to hear me, but I see the way her face twists in pain.  When she finally looks up, her cheeks are wet too. She grabs my foot and lifts it above my head, and I give a low cry of surprise, holding my leg up as high as I can.  ¡°This will help stop the blood,¡± Mum tells me quietly, and all I can do is nod.


    ¡°Mum, I¡¯m scared,¡± I whisper through my tears, dizziness sucking me down into the ground.  She¡¯s silent, and my own words echo around my head, pushing me downwards and weighing me down so that I¡¯ll never get back up.


    She yanks my foot higher, and I give a cry of pain, fighting back and giving a disgusted cry of ¡°It won¡¯t go any higher, Mum¡±.  Her face crumples and she slowly begins to sob, pressing the cloth so hard against my wound that blood drips out of the soaking cloth and down my leg.


    ¡°I know, Alyssa,¡± she says hoarsely, and then she gives a loud wail, her desperate voice slicing through my misery and leaving my heart raw with pain.  ¡°I know,¡± she cries again.


    ¡°Mum, I can¡¯t live like this.  I want to live; I want a future.  I never realized how...beautiful the world was, and now it¡¯s too late.¡±


    ¡°The bleeding is slowing,¡± Mum says darkly, and there¡¯s a bitter edge to her voice.  She doesn¡¯t acknowledge what I said, but I know she heard it. And I know she has no idea what to say.


    I look down at my leg, and if the bleeding has slowed, it¡¯s only by a little bit.  Blood is still flowing steadily out of it. I know that Mum probably just said that to comfort me, but I press my hands tightly together and hope that she¡¯s right.  For my sake, she has to be right.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°How much longer do you think I have?¡±  My voice cracks and more tears drip down onto my lap.


    ¡°I don''t know, Alyssa, I''ve never seen blood flow like this before.  It looks like it should clog up in half an hour or so. If it goes longer than an hour, we need to call a doctor.¡±  I can hear her struggling to keep her voice steady, but every word is coated with fear.


    I choke back bile rising in my throat, and lift my head up to meet her eyes.  ¡°You know that wasn''t what I meant.¡±


    Her face crumples and she shoves my leg further up in the air, ignoring my yelp of pain.  ¡°You are not going to die, Alyssa,¡± she hisses through clenched teeth. Her fingers tighten together into a knotted fist, and she stares at me with terrified eyes.  ¡°You can''t,¡± she whispers, and I know she''s trying to convince herself just as much as she is me.


    My heart thunders in my chest, and fury rips through my skin.  ¡°How long do I have?¡± I yell, and I wrench my leg away from her, sliding away the cloth and staring at the blood beneath it.  The flow has dwindled, and I can already tell that it will soon be gone.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Alyssa,¡± she mutters, her voice thick with tears.  ¡°I¡¯ve been tracking your progress in the booklet. This isn''t normal.  But Alyssa, you''re not dead yet. We can¡¯t just give up hope. There''s still a chance.¡±  She rests a heavy hand on my shoulder and stares at me with her face twisted in pain. My heart sinks inside me and I squeeze my eyes shut, squeezing the cloth until blood squirts out of it.  The bleeding has significantly slowed now, but oozing red goop is still dribbling out of it.


    ¡°Mum, what''s the point?¡± I yank my leg away from her and drop it back onto the ground, terror crawling over my skin.  ¡°Is this all there is to life? To eat, breathe, sleep, and then die? I can''t do this anymore.¡± I give a muffled sob, every part of me crying out in desperation.  ¡°I know you want me to be strong, but I can''t.¡±


    Mum slams the book down on the table next to me, and I crumple into her arms, crying softly as she rubs my smooth scalp.  I can feel the blood trickling down my leg, but I don¡¯t move, leaning my head on her shoulder and weeping bitterly. Mum¡¯s arms wrap tight around me, and I can feel her steady breathing in and out, in and out.  I sit there for a long time, and slowly, I stop shaking quite so violently and my breathing matches with hers.


    ¡°I¡¯m so scared, Mum.  I don¡¯t want this to all be for nothing. When the doctor first told me about my cancer, I realized that I had never really lived.  All the life that I had lived was going to be for nothing. I was nobody special- in a hundred years, no one would even remember me.  And Mum, I was so scared. I thought maybe it would be better if I just got it over with and died.¡±


    Mum backs up so that she can look me in the eyes, and I¡¯m shocked at what I see there.  Her eyes are bloodshot, and rimmed with tears, but there¡¯s a certain fearlessness in them, and unspeakable courage.  When she looks at me, I know that she cares, and something about that makes my heart flutter inside me. ¡°Alyssa, your life is not for nothing.  You are precious to me, you are beautiful, and-¡± she cuts off suddenly, crying too hard to be able to speak. ¡°I¡¯m sorry it took me so long to realize it.¡±


    ¡°Oh Mum,¡± I say through my tears, and I hug her tighter, my heart swelling at the words.  I don¡¯t know what it is about them that makes me feel so much happier, so much more beautiful, but somehow, her words make me want to live, make me want to enjoy each little moment with her.  She would never have said that before.


    ¡°Even if no one else remembers you, I will remember you, Alyssa, because you changed everything for me.  And I can¡¯t imagine a life without you.¡± She gently lifts up my foot and rubs the wound some more with the cloth.  The bleeding has nearly stopped. The blood is beginning to clot.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I whisper, and the words feel wrong, somehow, like they can¡¯t begin to express all of the feelings raging through my head.  But for now, they¡¯ll have to be enough.


    She brushes my cheek with the back of her hand, and a tingling washes over my body.  ¡°Of course.¡±


    I pick away at the dried blood caked on my leg, and then look up at her slowly to ask one last question.  ¡°Mum?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Alyssa?¡±


    ¡°Do you think there¡¯s a God?¡±


    She stops, and her hands drop limply to her sides.  She stares at me with understanding in her eyes, but it¡¯s a long time before she answers.  ¡°I¡­I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Because if there is, that would change everything, wouldn¡¯t it?¡±


    She wipes away the tears on her face, and picks up the cancer booklet as if she expects it to have the answers.  She nods slowly, and mumbles, ¡°I think so.¡±


    I stand up shakily, and start to walk up towards my room.  She nods and carries the cloth back to the kitchen, and neither of us say another word.

 Chapter 19

    I rip my hand away from the glass, standing up abruptly and yelling towards the kitchen.  ¡°Marya is here.¡±


    Mum looks up quickly, her face flushed and annoyed.  ¡°Alyssa, I already told you this isn¡¯t going to work.  Not after what happened yesterday.¡± She throws down the towel and walks briskly towards me, placing a tight hand on my shoulder.  ¡°I need to know that you¡¯re safe.¡±


    I stare out the window and see the car door open, and I turn back to Mum with my hands clenched tightly together.  ¡°Mum, I¡¯m not a little kid. I just want to have lunch with my friend. Just one meal, Mum.¡±


    Her eyes narrow, and she looks torn, but a shrill ringing pierces the air before she can continue.  She grabs my hand, runs towards towards the door, her face twisted in doubt and fear. But she just opens the door, immediately gasping and leaping away from the door.


    My hand flies to my heart, and I find myself recoiling in horror, clutching Mum¡¯s hand tightly for support.  I stare at Marya, stunned, unable to tear my eyes away from her shiny, hairless scalp. Marya doesn''t move, staring at my unflinchingly with an unreadable expression on her face.


    ¡°Good morning, Miss Gray.  Hello, Lyssy.¡± That''s the first time I''ve heard her talk to Mum so formally.  But I can barely focus on her words, all I can see is Marya¡¯s beautiful auburn locks falling to the ground, her beauty thrown away.


    And it''s all because of me.


    ¡°Marya, what have you done?¡± I whisper, pulling towards her and shaking my head in stunned disbelief.  I put my hands on my own bald scalp and struggle to take in deep breaths. Her eyes soften, and she stares at me a long time, opening her mouth slowly to reply and then closing it again.


    ¡°I did it for you, Lyssy,¡± she says gently, and a flash of anger knocks me backwards.  I never wanted this to happen, never wanted the cancer to shatter her life like it has mine.  I wanted her to be beautiful, loved, admired, like I was supposed to be. This should never have been how it was supposed to be.


    ¡°Marya,¡± I plead, and Mum¡¯s arm tightens around my waist, steadying me.  ¡°That¡¯s not the way it works. I know you''re trying to be nice, but this isn''t going to change anything.  It''s not going to make anything right.¡±


    Mum takes a step forwards, and at first I think she''s angry, but one look at the gentleness in her eyes tells me otherwise.  She shakes her head sadly, stretching her hand out and brushing her long fingers against Marya¡¯s scalp. Marya winces, but then swallows and stares at Mum with fear shining in her eyes, and the look on her face makes unbearable misery settle over me like a cloud.  I grip Mum¡¯s hand and stare at Marya limply, afraid to break the silence.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Mum says finally, her voice so quiet I can barely hear it.  ¡°For what you¡¯ve done for my daughter.¡±


    Marya pulls away, her eyes glittering with shock.  She stares at Mum, her hands dropping limply to her sides and her mouth opening slightly.  Her eyes are fixed on Mum, and the look in her eyes makes my breath catch in my throat. She¡¯s not angry anymore.


    When Marya finally speaks, her voice is barely a mumble.  ¡°We should probably go now, Alyssa.¡±


    I turn back to Mum, burying her in a tight hug.  ¡°I promise I¡¯ll be okay,¡± I whisper in her ear, and then I pull away, straightening my back and forcing myself to turn away from her.  ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± I say to Marya, following her quickly and silently begging Mum not to protest.


    Mum reaches out her hand and looks as if she¡¯s about to touch me, but then she pulls her hand back and shakes her head sadly.  ¡°You¡¯ll be back in a couple of hours, right?¡±


    Marya nods abruptly, and grabs my hand, guiding me towards the door.  ¡°Of course she will. We¡¯ve already worked this out, Miss Gray. We¡¯ll see ourselves out.¡±  Marya studies me carefully, and the look in her eyes makes my chest ache. I nod and force a smile, anxiety threatening to choke me.  I know this isn¡¯t safe, I know this is probably a bad idea. But I¡¯d do anything for one more day with Marya.


    And so I don¡¯t pull away from Marya, giving Mum as big a smile as I can before Marya closes the door behind us and leads me towards the car.  Her face is confused, and a little torn, but the smile building on her face tells me that she loves me. I slip into the front seat, sighing as the familiar musty smell settles over me. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°It¡¯s going to be a good day, Lyssy,¡± Marya says warmly, adjusting the audio.  ¡°What do you say we put on some music?¡±


    A small smile dances across my face, and Marya sees  it and grins wider. ¡°That¡¯d be great,¡± I say, and country music blares out of the speakers.  The sound of it drenches me like ice cold water, making my heart pound and my skin tingle.


    I''m still so confused.   So hurt. But with the guitar thrumming softly in the background, and Marya singing along, I feel somehow at peace. A dull ache vibrates through my body, and I stare quietly at Marya¡¯s scalp.  I can¡¯t accept this. Can¡¯t let her make that kind of sacrifice.


    Marya¡¯s loud voice echoes through the car, and I fight to stay focused on her words, to soak in every moment with her.  I want to hang on to every word she says, to keep it with me until I¡¯m gone. Every sight, every sound, every smell, every feeling that races through my head.


    Marya jerks the car to a stop, and the music ends abruptly.  She looks over at me and smiles encouragingly, and I try to block out the stares of the couple parked behind us.  Two teenage girls. Neither has hair.


    I step out of the car, moving towards Marya and following her towards the large brick building.  She presses her lips together and flings open the glass door, holding it open for me and letting me come inside.


    Loud, blaring music makes my ears throb, and I look around at the bright lighting, suddenly overwhelmed.  She leads me over to a booth in the corner of the restaurant, and fiddles with the menu. ¡°They have good food here, Lyssy, you¡¯ll like it.¡±


    I nod, unsure what to say, and rub my scalp, forcing myself to slowly relax.  I wonder what Mum is thinking, if she is as scared as I am. But right here, everything just feels strange, twisted, wrong.


    I scan the menu, grabbing Marya¡¯s hand and squeezing it for comfort.  She squeezes back, smiling sadly, and leans over to look at my menu. ¡°What do you want to eat?¡±  Her voice is soft, and carefully balanced, and something about it puts me at ease.


    ¡°I¡¯m not hungry.¡±  I try to keep my voice light, but she tilts her head, and I know she hears the fear in my voice.


    ¡°Is it the chemo?¡± She wraps both her hands around mine and lowers my head so that she¡¯s looking in my eyes.


    ¡°No,¡± I say quickly, shaking my head without looking away from her eyes.  ¡°It¡¯s not the chemo. I¡¯m just not hungry.¡±


    She raises her hand as if to touch her hair, but then drops it back down limply when she realizes that it¡¯s not there.  She seems unsure whether or not to argue or encourage me to eat, but she finally just says, ¡°Okay. Will you be upset if I get something, then?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a strong girl, you know that, Alyssa.¡±  Her voice is firm, decisive, but also tender and soft.  She strokes my cheek with her fingers, and a tingle runs through my skin.  I just nod, still not breaking away from her gaze.


    ¡°Ever since I met you, I was amazed by you, Lyssy.  I saw the way your Mum treated you, but the courage it took to continue to keep living.¡±  Tears glitter in her eyes, but she pushes them away and keeps on talking, her eyes fixed on my face.  ¡°I saw courage in you, and it made me feel like I could be strong too. But then this happened, and I just had to stand by and watch while everything fell apart for you.  Your Mum came to pick you up that night, and I was furious, Lyssy, I couldn¡¯t understand how anyone could be so heartless. But one look in your eyes and I knew you had given up.  You weren¡¯t fighting anymore.¡±


    My heart begins to pound within my chest, and I shake my head violently, my cheeks flushing red.  I want to protest, want to cry out that she¡¯s wrong, that she doesn¡¯t understand the pain that I¡¯ve gone through.  But Marya¡¯s not done talking.


    ¡°I tried to come talk to you, to be with you when you were in pain, but you rejected me.  I was so desperate, Lyssy. Things were going horribly at home, and without you there to walk me through every step of it, I was wilting.  I tried to talk to you, to reason with you, but you called your Mum, and I knew then that you had already let her win.¡±


    ¡°Marya, no.¡±  I pound my fist on  the table, tears popping into my eyes.  ¡°That¡¯s not it. That¡¯s not what any of this is.¡±  I grab her hand, pulling her towards me and staring at her with my face crumpling in pain.  ¡°Marya, you¡¯re right, at first, I was so bitter and so upset. Maybe I still am. I blocked myself off from the world, and you.  But things are different now. I promise things are different now.¡±


    She shakes her head slowly, but just stares at me quietly, her cheeks wet with tears.  ¡°Different how?¡±


    I shove the tears out of my eyes and shake my head, saying loudly, ¡°Life is worth living now, now that I have Mum and you supporting me through it.  I¡¯ve finally realized what it means to treasure every moment with you. And now I can.¡±


    A small smile flickers across her face through her tears, and she leans closer in, never once taking her eyes away from me.  ¡°Really?¡±


    I nod, and rummage through the purse slung over my shoulder, fingering the book for a long time before yanking it out and placing it on the table.  ¡°Can you show me how to be a christian?¡±


    Her eyes widen, and she smiles, taking the book and placing it on her lap.  ¡°You are different,¡± she says softly, and the tears in her brown eyes seem to sparkle.  She looks at me carefully as she replies. ¡°Okay.¡±

 Chapter 20

    Both of us sit hunched over the book for a long time, our arms around each other and our eyes fixed on the pages.  My heart thunders inside my chest, and I want to pull away, but I can¡¯t stop staring at the page, can¡¯t stop sucking in every single word and savoring every bite of it.


    We sit there for a long time, flipping through the pages and reading verses to each other.  Marya is quiet, thoughtful, but somehow her words slice through the darkness shrouding my mind, and I know, somehow, that things are different now.  That I¡¯m different.


    She tells me about Jesus, God¡¯s son, who sacrificed the glory of heaven to come to earth.  She talks about how he was rejected, mocked, scorned, and eventually, he died. She tells about his fear and his anguish about his death coming, and him sweating so hard that blood came out.  She tells about his cry as he was on the cross, ¡°It is finished¡±, the price is paid. She says he died for me. Because I am a sinner, because I broke away from God, and now he- the innocent one- is the one who will pay the price.


    But then she goes on, and she tells me that he didn¡¯t stay dead.  He was in the tomb for three days, and then he rose again and conquered death forever.  She tells about how sin has no power over us anymore, and we don¡¯t have to fear hell or the grave anymore, because Jesus has paid the way to heaven.  Death has no sting. Hell has no victory. Jesus is alive.


    Her slow breathing calms me, soothes me.  I close my eyes and lean back in my chair, letting the incredible weight of the words settle down on me.


    I¡¯m free.  It¡¯s done. I don¡¯t have to be afraid anymore.  There¡¯s hope. Life. Belonging. If only I know where to look.


    I lean forward, resting my head on Marya¡¯s shoulder.  ¡°Now what?¡±


    She smiles, and wraps her arm tightly around me, placing the Bible into my hands.  ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    I shake my head, pulling the Bible closer to my heart.  I dribble the pages with my fingers, struggling to find the words to say, and then finally, I whisper, ¡°What does this mean for my life so far?  What does this mean for my cancer?¡±


    She stands up, and grabs my hand, pulling me up next to her.  ¡°I don¡¯t know, Lyssy. I can¡¯t promise healing, but I can tell you that God will be with you for every second of it.¡±


    ¡°Why would he do this?¡±  My voice is quiet, barely a whisper.  ¡°How could a good God make me hurt so much?¡±  Marya leads me towards the door, and I follow quietly behind her, keeping my eyes focused on her face.


    Marya turns around, swinging open the door for me and guiding me to the car.  ¡°Maybe he did it to get your attention.¡± She pauses, and slips into the drivers seat.  I sit down next to her.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°If it weren¡¯t for your cancer, you wouldn¡¯t be here,¡± she tells me.  ¡°You wouldn¡¯t be listening to anything I was saying. And I wouldn¡¯t be saying it.¡±


    ¡°Do you think he can take it away?¡±


    She stops for a long time, cranking the petal and pulling out of the parking lot.  ¡°Your cancer? I guess he could, if he wanted to. But maybe he¡¯s going for a deeper healing then that.¡±


    I drop my hand to the ground, turning away from her and shoving away the tears in my eyes.  Somehow I knew she would say something like that. ¡°Marya, why wouldn¡¯t he heal me? Surely he can see that¡¯s what I need right now.¡±


    Marya keeps her eyes fixed on the road.  ¡°I don¡¯t know, Lyssy. But I do know that he can see what you need, and he knows that what you need isn¡¯t always the same as what you want..  Maybe he will heal you, maybe he won¡¯t. But either way, you can trust that it¡¯s what¡¯s best for you.¡±


    Bile rises in my throat, and I stare at my lap, struggling to breathe.  ¡°He would really think it¡¯s best to just sit up there and watch me suffer?  That¡¯s not the kind of God I want to love.¡±


    I can feel Marya¡¯s eyes burning into my skin, but I still don¡¯t look up.  ¡°Lyssy, you don¡¯t understand,¡± she says forcefully. ¡°God is good, you just have to trust him.  He knows what you need way better than you do.¡±


    I feel anger burn through me, and more tears sear my cheeks.  ¡°How can you say that?¡± I ask quietly. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t say that he was good if you were sitting in my shoes.  You can¡¯t just ¡®trust¡¯ him, and that¡¯s it. I don¡¯t want to trust someone who¡¯s proved that he will hurt me.¡±


    Marya screeches to a halt in front of a red light, and turns to stare at me.  ¡°You aren¡¯t hearing a word that I¡¯m saying,¡± she protests. ¡°God did have a plan for your cancer.  We¡¯ve already talked about that. He helped you get along better with your Mum, and he gave us this conversation.  I¡¯m sure he¡¯s doing something, even if we can¡¯t see what it is.¡±


    ¡°There had to have been gentler ways to do that,¡± I mumble.


    Cars honk behind us, and I look up and see that the light has turned green.  The car lurches forward.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Marya says, frustrated, and she bangs her palm against the steering wheel.  ¡°Why don¡¯t you talk about this with Joshua, Lyssy? He¡¯s been studying this all his life.¡±


    I stomp my foot against the floor, not understanding why I¡¯m so upset.  Joshua¡¯s smiling face flashes in front of my eyes, and somehow the thought of him brings more tears streaming down my cheeks.  ¡°I don¡¯t need to talk to Joshua,¡± I snap. ¡°I don¡¯t need Jesus.¡± I don¡¯t know why I say the words, because I don¡¯t truly believe them.  But the moment their off my tongue, Marya¡¯s face blanches, and the look on her face sends more tears flying down my cheeks.


    She jerks to a stop, and I cry for her to keep going, but her body is completely frozen.  My heart cracks within me, and a sob slips off my lips, begging her to drive forward, But she¡¯s still, and icy, and I hear the roar of the car behind us too late.


    I¡¯m falling, slamming forward, the airbag hitting my face like a cold slap.  The seatbelt locks around my waist, I feel trapped, and I scream, again and again and again.  The world blurs into a swirl of colors, everything is falling apart, everything has shattered.  Pain blinds my vision, and I feel blood trickling down my waist, although I don¡¯t know how it got there.


    I feel strong hands crawling over me, but when I try to open my eyes and look up, I find that I can¡¯t.  I can¡¯t move, just sit there and struggle to breathe while I find myself lifted up, and I know that it¡¯s Marya¡¯s arms that are cradling me.  Loud voices yell, sirens wail, more cars race past. Still, blood seeps across my skin, staining everything in a crimson glow.


    Everything has broken.  I am going to die.