Recovery / / h.s

Chapter Thirty-Eight.

Lily's POV-

I started my first chemotherapy session three days later. It sucked. Chemo absolutely sucked. Sure, it was going to make me better, well at least it was supposed to, but that didn't make it suck any less. Literal poisons were being pumped into my arm through a tube and not only did it hurt like hell at first, but it left horrid bruises, and you can't even imagine how much time I spent with my face shoved into the toilet bowl vomiting my guts out. They had me on a cycle, two weeks of constant therapy and three weeks of rest.

I quit my job at the police station, because it was just too stressful with everything that was going on. Harry was there for the first few days but he had a life to attend to and I wouldn't hold him back from that, even though going in there alone the first time scared the absolute hell out of me. I would have asked someone else to come with me, but there was no one else. Amelia was way too just with school, Ariana was at least four states away, and I was still too upset with my father to even speak to him.

However, I was only alone for the first ten minutes that day. There was a younger girl who had the same appointment time as me. She was scrawny with gorgeous apple colored eyes.

"That's so pretty," she nodded towards the dress in the magazine I was reading.

I smiled at her. "It is. But I think it would look better in dark blue."

"I don't really like blue," she shrugged, picking at the sweat shirt that sat in her lap. "Who are you anyway? I've never seen you before up until last week and I know everyone that comes in here."

"I'm Lily," I told her. "And I do not understand how you hate blue."

She shook her head, the breathing tubes that were connected to her nose followed with each shake. "It's just a basic color is all. Everyone's favorite color seems to be blue."

"Mine isn't."

"What is it then?" She was very talkative and I wondered where her parents were. No way would my parents ever let me be this chatty with an absolute stranger.

"I like orange, I guess," I told her as I flipped the page of my magazine.

She seemed to ponder that for a moment, as if liking a color other than blue was such a big deal. "I like red. I'm Cass by the way."

I smiled at her politely. It was quiet for a moment, the only sound that could be heard was the ticking of the machine that was "saving" both of our lives.

"Who's that boy that came in here with you the other day?" She reached for the bracelet on my wrist and I didn't pull away. She couldn't have been older than fourteen, it was adorable.

"Where are your parents, Cass, did they just leave you here?" The idea seemed ludicrous to me. Who leaves their child in chemo therapy all by themselves?

"My mom usually goes and visits the kids that live here," she shrugged. It took me a moment to realize she was talking about the children's section of the hospital. "Who is he? Is he your brother?"

"He's my boyfriend," I smiled, just the thought of Harry could make me smile.

"Boyfriend?" She wondered, scrunching her nose.

"What's wrong with that? You're not one of those girls who, like, think boys are gross are you?"

She rolled her eyes and slumped back into her chair, folding her arms over her chest. "I'm thirteen, I think I'm a little too old for the whole 'boys have cooties' thing."

"Then what's so wrong with him?"

"He has a lot of tattoos," she responded, adjusting the cannula in her nose.