Cancer.
It's a curse.
It turns people's lives upside down and ruins their relationships.
Brynne Foster is a perfect example.
After being diagnosed with leukemia at age 17, Brynne's family struggles to accept her decision of refusing chemotherapy...
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Barely holding on to the edge of the bed, I struggle to lift myself. My arms are shaking as my legs dangle from underneath me.
It was only a couple of damn steps; I curse under my breath.
I just wanted to go to the bathroom without some random nurse watching me.
Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the nurses and everything they do, but a person needs to have some privacy when they are using the bathroom.
My arms grow weak as I continue the constant fight to stay upright. The doors and windows of the room closed; I couldn't even yell for help if I tried. I groan in frustration as I slowly drop myself to the tile flooring of my hospital room.
My gown feels itchy against my pale skin, causing me to scratch my back. Without realizing it, the back of my gown becomes loose, and I sigh. Struggling to tie the strings, I give up altogether.
Everything about this place makes me feel uncomfortable.
The wheelchair in the corner of my room haunts me. When I was diagnosed, I promised myself I would never have to use a wheelchair to get around. I said that I would fight through whatever pain and utilize my legs.
Feeling embarrassed, I pinch the bridge of my nose and let out an exasperated sigh.
"Brynne?" Blake stutters as I hear the door crack open. My back is towards him, and I know he senses my shame.
I hear him put down something and rush over to me.
"What happened?" He questions as he places his hand on my shoulder.
"I felt like sitting on the ground to straighten my back." I excuse.
His fingers touch my exposed back and slowly begin tying the strings of my hospital gown. My spine shakes at the touch of his hands against my skin. I feel warmth rush to my cheeks as he lifts his hands and clears his throat.
"Oh, okay," He says relieved.
"I brought you something," He continues as he returns to the entrance. I am still faced towards the bed, and honestly, I don't think I have enough energy to turn around.
"Oh?" I say playfully.
He grabs something that creates a wrinkling noise. I slowly turn my head, and my heart melts once I see what he's gotten me.
A bouquet of red roses.
I'm not sure what happened to the ones he brought me that night, but the repeated gesture is very romantic. The sincere look in his eyes makes me want to burst into tears. God, I love this man.
"How has your day been?" He asks as he replaces the old flowers from my nightstand vase with the new ones. The gentleness with which his rough palms are touching the flowers sends a rush through my veins. A feeling that no medicine or treatment could ever give me. Pure pleasure.
