UNEDITED
Kaleb Jones is living the dream. He's playing hockey with Shea Smith again, dating the woman of his dreams, and has a promising future ahead.
Ella Taylor's life feels perfect until she discovers her boyfriend has been cheating on her with...
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Melody
My night at the hospital is rough. Machines continue to beep and hiss. Light streams through the door whenever a nurse comes in to check on me. The blankets are itchy and the mattress is hard, causing an ache in my lower back. No matter how many times I toss and turn, I can't get comfortable. Breathing techniques don't help lessen the anxiety, either. As confident as I am in my decision, there are slivers of doubt.
Tossing out any efforts to fall asleep, I shift into a sitting position. My arms are draped over my knees. I lean forward, taking a few deep breaths before curling into a ball. My cheek rests on my knees and I stare out the window at the city lights seeping through the thin curtains. Tears threaten to spill down my cheeks, but they never come.
What if I'm making the wrong decision?
The thought slithers around me like a snake; curling around my throat and tightening like a noose. It seems fickle, dying before the cancer kills me. Either route I take, death is inevitable. So is there really any power in dying before cancer completes its quest to ravage my organs?
I'd like to believe so.
The longer I stare out the window, the more my mind slips into a rabbit hole. As soon as it's going, there's no stopping it. I think about everyone this is affecting. Hurting the people I love is worse than suffering from cancer. I can only imagine how helpless they feel, but I'm sure it's close to how helpless I feel. The patient and the patient's loved ones run a parallel course during one's battle with cancer. Helplessness, loss, despair. I feel the same emotions, but never to the same degree. Because once I take my last breath, that's the end. I can feel the pain right now, but it'll be gone in a matter of seconds. After I die, there's nothing left for me to worry about. No legal issues to deal with. No lingering sense of pain and loss. Unlike Kal, I won't have to sleep in an empty bed.
Thinking of Kal makes me think about Ella. Everything's so fucked because of me. In hindsight, I realize meddling with their friendship was a bad idea. All I've done is make both of them feel bad about their emotions. Perhaps I should've stated my intent from the beginning as opposed to secretly trying to push them together. Sat them down and told them I support a relationship between them. Expressing myself may have led to a different outcome. Maybe they'd be a little less reluctant to acknowledge their feelings.
I sigh, rubbing my temples. Although I'm still on a good amount of painkillers, my head is hurting. I know that's a bad sign. If morphine can't curb a headache, then the sands in my internal hourglass are falling fast.
I paved the road with nothing but good intentions. Yet I feel as though I've driven a wedge between them. It might be time to talk to Shea again. Tell him he was right about my plan. When I told Shea, he wasn't happy with my decision. He said it reminded him too much of the time before he told Brenna about the bet. There were too many secrets, and the more they piled up, the worse things got. He considers himself lucky that Brenna accepted his apology. Now that I've experienced the effects of a secret, despite its good intentions, I have to admit he's right—nothing good comes from harvesting secrets. I never meant to hurt Kal or Ella.
