Summary: Clare Edwards has been in the same hospital room for the past two months. She has no plans of getting out anytime soon because she is suffering from Acute Leukemia. What happens when she meets another patient named Elijah Goldsworthy? I am awful at summaries. Read the story, you won't regret it!
Hi everyone! I haven't written FF in a life time, so I'm a little rusty. I appreciate opinions and critiques. So feel free. I won't be updating until I have at least 10 reviews. I want to write a story people want to read, you know? Thank you for taking the time to read the first chapter of His Plan.
Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Degrassi, or any of the characters, but the story is mine! :)
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Every second of every day, hour, and minute that monotone noise was heard throughout her secluded room.
She knew that eventually the noise would fade and meet its end. At least that's what the Doctors deliberated when they thought she wasn't eavesdropping.
In their terms, she was holding on by a very thin and fragile thread. A soft knock was heard for the third time that morning.
Nurses and doctors were continually invading her privacy, either to check her vitals or deliver her the news of her latest chemotherapy session.
"Hello, Ms. Edwards. How are you feeling this morning?" Typical question and the answer hardly changed.
She simply informed her that she was nauseated and her headache wouldn't subside. That all too familiar painful heat molded within her stomach, which caused Clare to hover her chapped pink lips over the toilet.
Clare released one of the numerous side effects of a remedy that was destined to cure. "I guess God has decided I'm not worth fixing." She whispered beneath her puke scented breathe, staring coldly at the cross necklace hanging around her neck.
"Why, God? Can you answer me that?" It's useless, Clare. That question will forever remain unanswered. Eventually it tired her out to question the man above whom she used to hold a great love for.
She regained enough strength to lift her lifeless body off the cold tile ground. Knowing the Nurse would be waiting behind that door to inform her further on her condition.
For once, she wished she didn't have to discuss her illness. She pushed past the doorway and made brief eye contact with the nurse. "So, tell me the usual news. The Chemo didn't help, am I right? What's the point of giving me the treatment if it's hopeless?"
"I'm sorry to inform you, Ms. Edwards, but we've sadly haven't heard the latest news on your last treatment. The Doctor did want to me to discuss taking the next step in the process though. It's your choice, of course, but he suggests that you should remove the rest of your hair. Chemotherapy will eventually do the job anyhow, but he thought it'd be best if you did it yourself. That way you feel in control of at least one thing in your situation, Ms. Edwards."
It was the finale. Or at least close to it. Losing her reddish brown locks was last on her list, but what other choice did she have? Even if she doesn't takes the matter in her own hands, those curls would be gone.
Her blue eyes gathered a last look of the girl she used to be in the mirror. Hot tears cascaded out of her eyes falling on her pale cheeks. Within in a matter of seconds, she became nothing but a girl with Leukemia.
"If you wouldn't mind," She searched for a name on the Nurse's badge. "Nancy, I'd rather be alone at the moment, but if you'd like to return with a razor, be my guest." Clare didn't care enough to wait for any kind of response. "In fact, please return with a razor. I want to shave it myself." She added on before hearing the door close.
All her wishes were wasted. All the prayers were wasted. She was a wasted piece of air. Death was meant for her, even if she wasn't meant for it. No choices. No control. No say in the matter. What was done is done.