DYING WISH ( HARRY LEWIS ) [SLOW UPDATES]

ONE

( CHAPTER ONE )
MISS LONELY

SOMETHING YOU LEARN WHEN YOU'RE DYING IS THAT EVERYONE LEAVES YOU. It had happened to Zoe first hand and she hadn't been prepared; she'd been diagnosed when she was fourteen and that's when she had the most friends, and she hadn't even realised it. That's when everyone knew everyone - especially if you were ill, they'd act as if you'd been joint at the womb by a multi-divided pulsating cord (even though Zoe was an only child), and you thought that friendship bracelets and diy scrapbooks were legally binding and would last forever. But as she grew older, the people withered away, she still had friends when she was seventeen and she even had a boyfriend, losing her virginity, being in love, having as much fun as she could, shopping like a normal teenager, even though she wasn't a normal teenager. But once you hit eighteen that's when you notice how fast they dropped, like literal flies that had swarmed around you like an ugly shit that made them feel better about themselves because they took pity on the ill girl. Until you were almost twenty one with no friends expect your nurse, but even she couldn't stand being around you for too long, quickly scurrying away when you began to speak, commenting that she had to see the paediatric ward even though she specifically worked on the third floor.

So Zoe sat in her white hospital bed, a leg crossed over the other, the bare skin creating a suction from how long she had sat; a uncreased, pristine, preppy magazine resting in her fingertips. She skimmed the block white text, not fully paying attention only half reading the crazy headlines as she turned the pages until she reached the end of the sleek booklet. She sighed as she stared at the back cover which was covered in squashed advertisements all fighting for her tired eyes. She hadn't been able to sleep all night, it wasn't as if she didn't have the time, she had the whole day free in the bright hospital; just like every other boring day - a carbon copy of the previous with nothing eventful or interesting happening - sometimes she wondered if she really was living, and if this was living; why was she fighting so hard for something she wasn't sure she even wanted. So instead she laid comfortably in her white bed wrapped in extra blankets watching random videos on youtube. That's how she spent most of her time, or playing video games - but after a while it got boring to the point where she joked about her death which earned nervous looks and giggles from the hospital staff. As an elderly nurse stumbled into the large, clean room, Zoe tossed the magazine to the foot of the bed and pulled her leg underneath her as she leaned forward flashing her breath-taking, toothy smile.

"How are you feeling, Miss Toor?" The nurse asked politely as she approached the girl to take her vitals. She'd seen this nurse a couple of times before, but she wasn't as common as the younger girl who usually took her vitals, but Zoe smiled kindly nonetheless.

"Peachy" Zoe replied in perky tone, she stretched out her left arm for her blood pressure to be taken. The white wispy blinds were pulled open and the sunny light illuminated the girl as her green eyes flickered across the nurse's face, who wrapped the black cuff around her upper arm before pumping it tighter to the point where her skin lightened. After a few seconds, the friendly nurse unclasped it from her arm, and moved to take her temperature then her breathing from an array of angles. When she rested the cold stethoscope on Zoe's bare back, she sharply inhaled and flinched slightly even though the instrument had been placed on her chest only seconds before.

"Any problems, Zoe?" The nurse pressed, even though it was in a sweet tone, Zoe could tell that whatever she answered with she wouldn't be believed.

"Nope, I'm great. I couldn't sleep last night but that's it really" Zoe smiled, she knew she had to say something or she'd undergo tests all day, she just wanted to be left alone with trashy uk morning tv.

"Hmm" The nurse murmured, she teetered out of the room, her age having an obvious effect on her limbs, "I'll see if I can get you any medication to help with that"

Zoe just nodded, a fake smile still pressed her full lips upwards but as soon as the old woman had left the room, it fell away quickly; and she reached for the remote, flicking the tv that was attached to a metal arm protruding from the corner of the wall, on. Whatever they gave her she wouldn't take, she'd gave up on that years ago although she was half convinced that if she jumped up and down she would hear the pills shake in her stomach, she was a walking medicine vending machine. Plus on the amount of drugs she was on she wasn't sure she could take anymore. She didn't even wear her tube anymore unless she had to leave the hospital, which rarely happened these days.

She sighed, the breathy noise echoing louder in the four empty walls and she shuffled down in the soft sheets trying to get comfortable. She chewed on her bottom lip as she skipped the channels until she found something her bedridden body hadn't seen before. Even though she wasn't interested in whatever the screen showed, she lazily watched it with hazy eyes that weren't entirely focused. She squirmed at little more further down the bed and dropped the remote.

Around ten minutes into the program her eyes found themselves roaming the room, the same boring scene finding her attention although it had already been burned into her brain, she could probably draw its simplistic layout blindfolded with her toes whilst asleep. However she was miles away, her face blank as if she was only a shell, her mind preoccupied in another world. Until her attention landed on something that was familiar but not as regular as the basic room.

Outside the dividing, transparent wall was a group of three congregating doctors in light blue scrubs and the elderly nurse from earlier. She knew them all and could probably provide a brief fact file on them all, but as she watched the collection she could tell they weren't talking about colleague gossip or what type of casserole was in the cafeteria this Tuesday.

She saw the group talk behind the clear glass window, separating her from those who were healthy, their conversation was inaudible as if she'd muted them with the tv remote that rested beside her bare leg or like they were on the blurry screen of her tv. But she still knew they spoke in hushed tones with pinched faces. She still knew what they were talking about. She still knew what was coming. And she still knew she had come to terms with it.

She was going to die.