Ash always loved Christmas.

But this year was different, because the nurses told me she wasn't allowed out of the hospital, not even for one day.

Ash was asleep when Mum came in for her shift. If anyone loved my daughter as much as me, it would be my Mum. Mum was there at the start of it all when Ash was five and the doctors told me she was sick. She was there through the years of chemo and she was there when Ash couldn't even leave her bed. Mum would do anything for us.

I drove home in silence, planning to get a good sleep because I was staying with Ash on Christmas Eve and then Christmas as well. We would all count down to midnight and then open presents, Ash's first, then mine, then Mum's. Like we did every year, no matter where Ash was.

But despite my planning I slept restlessly, excited for the day to come and the look on Ash's face when she opened her presents. When she saw the card, promising a trip to wherever she wants when she gets better. Once she gets out.

On Christmas Eve I woke up and I wanted to get to the hospital to see Ash smile. I needed the sign that she was stronger. Things hadn't been going well, and she never seemed to improve…

No. I won't think about that. Not today.

When I got to the hospital I walked up to Ash's private ward and hugged my Mum goodbye. Ash wasn't awake yet but I kissed her bald head. I organized the presents at the foot of her bed, with the card lying on top, and then sat down beside her.

The sun shone through the open window and reflected on the tinsel around the room, throwing multi-coloured lights into the darkest corners. The hours Ash and I had spent staring out of that window at the people walking past, living their lives…

My eyes started sliding shut as my head drooped, the sun beating down and warming my back, and my mind relaxed into sleep.

Something moved against my leg and my eyes snapped open. The room was dark and Ash was thrashing around so violently the bed was moving. I screamed for the doctor, pushing Ash onto her side and holding her still. Her eyes were rolling and sweat poured down her face.

The nurses rushed in, followed by a doctor who quickly took control. A nurse came up to me and took my arm, trying to lead me away, but I shook her off and stood at the end of the bed for what seemed like ages; watching the nurses at work around my daughter, giving her more injections, talking in low, hushed tones that promised nothing.

A different hand rested on my arm now, and my mother led me out of the room and into a chair in the hospital cafeteria.

"They said they need to do some more tests, to see what made her take a turn. They'll also need to clean the room. And you need to eat."

It was 10 at night.

90 minutes and 2 coffees later the doctor was talking to us. She'd developed another tumor, but this time in her brain. I felt numb; I knew it was going to happen one day. They said she had stabilized for the moment and we could go in and see her.

My Mum and I were walking towards her ward when she grabbed my arm.

"I don't believe it, I've forgotten the presents… I'll have to drive home. I'll be back soon!" Her promise of return was shouted down the hall as she hurried off.

I walked into Ash's ward by myself and she turned her head to look at me, smiling when she saw my face. I walked over and sat down by the side of her bed.

"Sorry I'm late, Ash. The nurses had to clean up a bit."

She smiled at me again, and whispered, so softly, "It's OK, Mum. I knew you'd come in time for Christmas." I held her hand in mine and it was so cold.

"Where's Grandma?"

"She forgot the presents, so she just had to run down to her house to get them. But she'll be back soon."

"Can we watch TV? I missed the first lot of fireworks, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but that's OK. The midnight ones are the best, anyway." I said, as I reached for the remote.

We sat and looked at the screen for a long time, Ash drifting in and out of sleep. She always got so tired after being sick. But at 11:59 I woke her, knowing that she'd want to see the countdown.

"Ready?" I had asked.

"Ready," came her quiet voice.

"10," we said together.

"9… 8… 7… 6…"
"Mum." It was so quiet.

"5."

"Mum." I looked at my daughter, lying beneath the white sheets.

"4… 3… 2…"

"Mum, I love you."

The sound of the midnight fireworks on the TV was drowned out by a long, single beep from her heart-monitor.

I got a call from the hospital later. They said that they had some things that I had to collect. I drove over, without telling Mum where I was going. I felt like I needed to be alone.

When I reached the front desk, there was a package waiting there for me. I signed for it and carried it to the car. I opened it up on the front seat. Inside was Ash's name-plate that was at the foot of her bed: 'Miss Ash Pilot. Age: 16. Birthday: 3/1/95' printed in large, official letters for the world to see.

Next were some things that Ash had done during the hospital classes she went to when she was well enough to get out of bed. And lastly, there was a card. My card to her. It was open.

I carefully pulled it out of the envelope. Underneath my message to her were words, written by a tired hand.

Dear Mum,

I opened the card when you were asleep, sorry! I know that you aren't meant to open your presents before Christmas, but I haven't been feeling great lately. I think I'm coming to the end of a long journey. I don't think I'll see the fireworks this year. But I know that I'm going to a place where I can see the fireworks every year and I'll never feel sick again. I'll never miss the fireworks, again, Mum.

And if I could go anywhere, I would go to a place like that.

Please don't cry. I see you looking at me sometimes and you look so sad. But don't be sad. You still have your Mum and I will always have mine.

Look at the fireworks. Sometimes the sky cries, but there are always fireworks at Christmas.

I love you Mum.

Ash.

And every Christmas Mum, Ash and I all sit down to watch the fireworks. Together.

Hi all!

Another short story (check out my other one, called 'The Changed', which will be coming on soon!) which I, again, had to write for as assessment.

Let me know what you think!

WallFlower4124