Author's Note: The first half of this story will be really dark, if you can live through it, read it, if you can't stand it, don't continue on. It's actually rated 14A, but since there's no such choice on , might as well make it an 'R' to be safe.

Summary: When Sakura was diagnosed with an incurable disease, all she could do was wait for death. Instead of making the best out of what's left, she lost her happy spirit and began to hate life, at the same time fearing death. Then one day, she meets a volunteer worker at the hospital, and he brought her back to life. Rated 14A.

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Chapter One

Kinomoto Sakura

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Orubia dumped her stuff by the bed stand and sighed heavily. She sat on the white bed that's specially reserved for her, and wondered just how many people in her situation has slept on this bed, has died on this bed, and whether she was shortening her life by living in this ill-omened room.

People like her were given a choice, people like her cannot pass on their disease by casual contact, so she's still allowed to stay with her family. But Orubia chose here, because she felt like this is the only place she is deserving of.

A sick patient coughed beside her and Orubia turned around to the sound.

The lady looked like she was fifty, her skin was gray and her body was twisted in what looked like a tangled mass.

"Excuse me, madam." Orubia said with her usual soft voice, and looked at the lady with her pale blue eyes.

The lady gave her acknowledgement by turning her eyeballs towards her.

"I was wondering," Orubia continued. "if you're uncomfortable like that. I can help you change into a better position if you'd like."

The lady coughed loudly, and in a hoarse, dry voice, she responded. "It doesn't matter… I have no feeling of my body anymore…" Orubia gasped, and the lady continued. "How old do you think I am, child?"

Orubia knew what she was getting at, and instead, reversed the question. "What year were you born?"

It sounded almost like a chuckle. "Child, I am only 32." She coughed loudly and Orubia noticed that only her head is shaking and twitching from discomfort, while the rest of her body was laying motionlessly still.

Orubia sat down on the edge of the bed, and secretly, she slid her hand under the blanket, touched the woman's big toe, and dug her nails deep inside. Yet, the woman didn't respond at all.

A sad, strangled cry uttered from Orubia's lips. "I-I… I'm… I'm sorry…"

"For what? Someday, you'll end up just like me anyways. How old are you, child?"

"I'm… 19…" And all of a sudden, Orubia imagined the woman in front of her to have said she was only twenty, and somehow, Orubia knew that it was going to be her future… to be like the living corpse in front of her except at an even younger age. "No!" She cried.

She hadn't meant to, but the reality seemed so hideous she began to howl with tears. After all that's happened, she hadn't really thought about it. But now the truth is sinking in, and Orubia doesn't think she can take it. "No! I cannot end up like this! I'm so young, I have the most treasured part of my life waiting for me to live it with sunshine and fun and boyfriends! I cannot end up as a corpse!" Orubia threw her pillow roughly against the wall and wiped everything off her bed stand. Her insane cries drowned out the woman's painful moaning.

"Child… stop… please…"

But Orubia couldn't hear her. She felt dread breaking into her life but there was no way to stop it. "IT WASN'T MY FAULT! I DON'T DESERVE THIS! IT WAS A SPUR OF THE MOMENT! I SHOULDN'T BE DYING!"

Two nurses hurried into quickly and they somehow forced a pill into Orubia's mouth. Five minutes late, she was chained to her bed and had stopped crying. The old lady had only pain on her face, probably suffered when Orubia had screamed.

Orubia bent down to grab her books by her bed. To her surprise, the book she grabbed wasn't hers. And by the look of it, someone had dropped it there. Not neatly dropped, as if… as if the person before her died, but before dying was reading it, and he or she had no more strength to hold it, it fell out of their grasp.

She flipped open the book. It wasn't exactly a book but more of a diary type of thing, and it wasn't an expensive diary either, it was just line paper stapled together.

What happened to the patient before her? Had the person really died? Orubia thought to herself. Stupid question. Of course he or she did. No one comes into this room and walks out alive. No one who has even the slightest chance of living would be coming into this room.

Orubia began to read the diary.

I hate life. I really do. It's filled with lies and bitches and bastards. It's because of lies and bastards that I'm here right now, dying, and it's because of bitches that I don't have enough people visiting me.

I had been stupid.

I was such a happy 16-year-old girl. I was innocent and naïve.

I'm not sure why I'm even keeping a diary considering the fact I'd be fucking dead before I can find someone to pass it on to. Either way, there's nothing to do, so I'll keep writing.

My name's Kinomoto Sakura, and I'm a cheerleader, who goes to a high school, and is very popular.

I never swear, because there's no need to, but now, just for the sake of it, I'm going to say fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Yeah. Fuck. What are you going to do about it? My life's going to be done in over a year at the most so arrest me if you want, fuck.

I know you won't believe me to ever be happy but I was. I had auburn hair (they seem dully brown to me now), and green eyes (seems more like radioactive poisoning colour) that everybody was jealous of.

They say people can't change this fast, no matter what a drastic change was added to their life, and they're right. It's been a year since it happened to me, and I'm not getting any better.

What happened me? Let's just say this.

All the bullshit about safe sex and all? Fuck it.

My boyfriend was popular, I was going out with him for about a year, and he wanted to do it. What am I suppose to say? He bought the condom and said they were 97 effective, and even our teacher told as that.

So I said ok. Like, what's the worst that can happen? I don't want to lose my boyfriend. If I can pregnant, just get an abortion, like whatever.

But after I did it, I began to feel feverish and funny, I went to the hospital for a check up, and they told me I got HIV. AIDS, if you prefer.

They also said that you can be a carrier (Someone who has the disease but it's not acting up in their body yet) for about 3 months-15 years.

My bastard of a boyfriend is one of the luckier ones because he's still perfectly healthy while I ended up in the hospital a year later. I'm 17 right now, and I'm dying. I hate life, I want to end it, I wish I could, but I fear death as well. It's a paradox. Who's going to win? Life, or death? But in the end, I know I'll die, it's no question about it.

The doctors said my case was serious, and said they can probably prolong my life if I stayed in the hospital under their special care. So my dad said ok. I suppose he figured since I looked so much like mom, if I died, it'll be like my mom died twice or something. Yes, my mom's dead. My brother was devastated as well for me, and same as my best friend, Daidouji Tomoyo.

But what the hell, all those bitches in school, so-called my 'friends', none of them visited once. They send a letter maybe twice at most, and didn't even bother buying me some flowers to go along with it.

Man, if Tomoyo ever read this dairy, it'd be funny to see her expression. She'd be choking to see me swearing, considering the fact I rarely use the word 'damn' or 'hell' before.

Here's a part of my old diary for you to compare with.

Quote: I went to the mall with a couple of my friends today, and my daddy gave me 50 dollars. But then we went to our favourite store, and there was this skirt, it was so beautiful! It wasn't too short, but it showed off enough, and it was a contrast to my eye colour so it was really nice. My friends said with the red skirt and my green eyes I looked sort of like a Christmas tree, but I just giggled at that. But then, I also saw this other sleeveless top, and it was baby blue with such an adorable kitty in the front! The skirt costs 45 dollars and the shirt was 30! And I didn't have enough money! It's soooo sad! What am I suppose to do?? I didn't buy anything because I couldn't decide. And then my daddy refused to give me any more money because he said he already gave me enough. Diary, tell me, which one should I get? I'm going back tomorrow and I'm getting at least one! Oooo… what a hard decision!

Psssh. I can't believe how screwy I was before. Just fucking rob a bank and get both. Whatever, put me in jail and sentence me for 5 years. News flash, I'll die before half my sentence is over. So hah.

A nurse just walked in. She's putting the meal on my desk, and I think she tried to see what I was writing. I held it closer to me and even so, I think she caught a glimpse of a few words, and now she thinks I'm psycho. She probably saw one of my 'fuck' parts.

I hate everything around me.

I hate my food, I hate all the sick people around me, I hate all the nurses smiling everyday. Like what the hell! I'm dying, hello! What's there to smile about? Why bother trying to encourage me? So I'll be more disappointed on my death day? And mostly, I hate my bastard of a boyfriend. I really hope he'll be here soon. I hope he'll be staying on this same bed and stumble upon the same diary and read it, and see just how much I hate him.

After I got sick and got stuck in here, he only visited once. As if he was afraid of my disease. Bastard. He gave the disease to me and now he's scared of it. Just because he's in much better shape doesn't mean he still doesn't have the disease, because he does, so it doesn't make him any different from me.

My lunch smells funny. Why the hell are they giving me a piece of chocolate for? Hoping I'd get diabetes too and die sooner? And what's with noodles? What if I slurp too fast and choke to death? And my soup. It feels like it just came out of a volcano. Oh gee, try to burn me to death what don't you.

The fruits are too healthy as well. An apple a day keeps the doctors away. I know that saying, but whatever, I'm already dying, the doctors are like my family members right now, I'm never getting rid of them until I'm rotting in my grave.

I hate everything around me. The person on the bed next to me is in worse conditions than I am. She looks old and the nurses told me she can't feel her legs anymore and hardly has any control over her upper body.

I'll probably end up like that one day too.

But I won't. I'll be worse off. Because the nurses also told me, as horrible as the lady beside me is, she's been graduately getting worse and worse for about 10 years now, while the nurse says my immune system sucks crap compared to hers. I'll die before the old hag.

My words are very random, defocused and sounds like bunch of bullshit taped together. That's because my thoughts are random as well. Whatever I think, I write down, and that's that.

Yesterday, I had a dream, it was a very strange dream. I was still me, at the same time I was a third person watching over me. The real me, was walking through a dark alley at night, while the third person me saw a figure following me through the darkness. Half of my brain knows I was in danger while the other half didn't. But the 'me', didn't react, because 'I' didn't know what was going on, I wasn't connected to the third me. So while I was processing danger warnings through my brain, the 'me' walking just continued to smile, oblivious to everything.

Then the person finally came out of the shadows. Then somehow I blacked out, and when I woke up, I knew I was raped, though I wasn't sure how. Here's the funny part. For some reason the dumb shit didn't murder me after, and I got away, while later found out he got AIDS from me. Psssssh. Serves him right. I only wish that it was my bastard of a boyfriend instead.

When I woke up from that dream I was dazzled for a moment because it felt so real, and I wanted to cry because of what happened to me but instead I started laughing. But it was an empty laugh, because my joy of the man getting backfired instead was just an excuse so that I wouldn't feel so bad about what's happening to me now, instead. I laughed like I was mad, then I began to cry.

"It's ok, child…" The patient beside me said. I didn't know she could still speak.

I flinched. "I thought you were dead all over…" I muttered.

"After being here for this long, I've seen many like you…"

"And… what happened to them?"

She looked at me in the eyes. "You should know the answer to that…"

I nodded. "They all died, didn't they?"

"Yes…" She closed her eyes. "Be glad for that. I've been here for ten years, and for the last 5, I was hardly functional, I wish I could die… really. A quick death isn't as bad as you think." She chuckled. "You know, when I was young, I thought to myself, one day, if I were old, I think I should just die. I won't be able to stand looking in the mirror at myself then. But now, I only think to myself, what I wouldn't do to just be healthy…"

I swallowed. "I'm still young… and I'm still beautiful… and I'm still healthy—sort of… you think I should stop complaining."

She nodded. "Understand, there are always people in worse position than you. That's why I'm still here."

I frowned. "If you hate life so much, while don't you just end it? We're in a hospital, it shouldn't be difficult… I mean, not that I want you to die or anything…"

She rolled over so that her back was towards me. She yawned and I wondered, in her condition, how many hours of sleep did she need daily, and how easily did she get tired. "Because… I need to live for my daughter, and to encourage each of you young ones, who comes into this room."

For example me… I thought to myself. "How old is your daughter? How often does she visit?"

"Not often…" She replied in a soft and tired voice. "Maybe once every two months if I'm lucky, but if I die, she would be sad… and I don't want her to be sad…"

And suddenly, I felt so sorry for her.

--

Hours later when I was sitting under a tree in the hospital's backyard, I remember the conversation I had with the lady, and I snorted. Perhaps it was because I wasn't fully awake then, and I was just so devastated for something comforting, that I drank in all her words. But after a proper shower, something nice to eat, and watching healthy, happy people having fun, I realized that her words were all bullshit.

What the hell was the wrong with me? How could I actually have felt sorry for her? What about me? It's her own damn fault for torturing herself. My ass her daughter would be sad. If she really would be, she'd have visited her hag of a mother more often. And so what if she's sad? Time heals all wounds, they say, so let her feel lucky at least time is on her side, because for me, time widens all my wounds. Time is sucking on my life. Time is a thief. Time brings the devil closer to me. I hate Time.

If only there were no Time. I wish Time didn't exist so that everything would always freeze at that one moment, and I'd have nothing to worry about. Because I know, it'll still be like this tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and for the rest of eternity. I wouldn't have to worry about death and wonder everyday before going to bed, would I still wake up tomorrow morning?

A ball rolled by and stopped by my feet. I picked it up in wonder.

"Hi, miss, can you pass that to me, please?" A sweet voice said.

I looked up to see a young girl around the age of six, and who reminded me so much of myself staring at me with happy eyes. I held out the ball. "This is yours?"

"Yes… Thank you!" She reached forward to grab it, but I held my hand back, and she tried reaching for it even by leaning more forward, only ended up falling on her face. "WAAAAAAAH!!!!" She cried.

I pulled her up by grabbing her collar from the back. "Stop crying."

She sniffled for a while, looked at me with teary eyes, then started crying even harder. "LET GO OF ME!" She screeched.

I felt no pity for her. "Shut up, brat. You think it's so sad you friggin' fell on the ground and you can't get a crappin' ball. Kid, listen, at least, YOU AREN'T DYING!" I shouted then dropped her down.

She was so surprised by my loud voice that she took a step back and tripped over her own foot. Quickly, she got up, casting me one last frightened look, she ran away as fast as her chubby little legs could carry her. "MOMMY!!! MOMMY!!! HEELP ME! GHOSTS ARE AFTER ME!!!"

Little kids. They think every scaring thing is a ghost. I rolled my eyes. "Not yet…" I muttered. "My ghost will be coming soon though…"

I leaned back against the bark of the tree, but a minute later, a loud screeching dragged me into a fight.

"YOU STUPID GIRL! What have you done to my daughter?" The girl's mother cried, reaching forward to take the ball from me, obviously not expecting me to say anything back, but she was in for a surprise.

As she reached forwards, I held the ball back out of her reach.

She stood up tall and straight and looked at me sternly. "My daughter's here to play in the park nearby. It was an accident she kicked the ball in here. I know you're a sick patient and you must feel horrible, but you don't have to take it out on a little girl." Her words were suppose to be comforting, but her tone was as cold as ice, and I knew she's only saying that so I'd be nice to her daughter.

Slowly, I raised my eyes to meet hers. My unfazed gaze startled her. "You have no idea what you're talking about, lady."

She hid her surprise with a wave of her hand. "I don't care what situation you're in, I don't care if you have to get a needle shot every single day, but you're just being a big bully by taking stuff out on a little girl."

Her daughter was clutching tightly on the mother's long skirt, obviously scared of me.

I ignored the daughter and stared into the mother's eyes. My grave expression told her there was something wrong with me. "Lady, I wish I could get a shot everyday, but I can't. Do you know what? I'm dying. I'll be gone from this planet within 14 months. So get the fuck away from me and leave me to suffer, all right?"

The daughter whimpered even more.

"Yeah." I told her. "Go ahead and cry, because that's a truth, and you're a human too, so you're no different, someday, you'll be just like me, you'll be dying, and you'll know it."

The daughter was now absolutely terrified. "WAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!" She screamed. Letting go of her mother, she began to run the opposite direction of me, her mother gave me one last look and I was startled to see tears in her eyes.

"I know you're in pain, but you don't have to do this to a poor innocent child." And she chased after her daughter.

And I was left alone, for the millionth time in my life. But I felt like a horrible person. I made a tiny little girl cry… what would I have thought if someone had said that to me when I was just six? I probably would be scarred for life… and not only that… I hurt the mother too… I think the whole time that's what I wanted to do, because she was so rude and so much older with a family and a child but still happy… But I couldn't make her mad… so what did I do? I used her daughter to get to her.

I hurt a 6-year-old helpless girl to get to her mother! A loving mother who has done nothing to me but live! I was in a very unstable situation. Half of me thought she deserved it, whatever, she's not dying so she'll get over it, while the other half of me, felt like a bully, a traitor, a soul-breaking creature that will hurts anyone they desire even if it means hurting the weak and innocent in the process.

I felt like I was being ripped apart. Hot tears ran down my cheek and I held my head tightly, pressing hard as if to stop my head from literally exploding. "I don't know what to do…" I whispered to myself. "I want to die! But I'm so scared to as well!! Oh God, somebody, save me!"

"Sakura?"

I looked up to see my brother, Kinomoto Touya, with his boyfriend Yukito.

When I first found out that my brother was gay, I thought he was on crack and used to laugh at him, but now, I realize he's the normal one, it's not his fault, and if what he did is considered a mistake, it was a mistake of love, and I can't blame him for any of that. "Touya…" I whispered. "Oh, Touya!" I hugged him tightly and my tears wet his shirt. "I don't want to die… I want to live till I'm old… I don't want to be so mean and cruel and unhappy all day!!"

"Sakura, it's ok…" He whispered. "It's ok…" And he just let me cry.

--

People tell me the same things all the time. 'We're not trying to deny the fact that you're dying' they'd say. 'But because you are, you should make the best out of what you have left, or else you would regret it forever. When people are left with a last chance, they usually treasure it more than ever, and that is what you have to learn to do, Sakura, be happy, live everything you've ever wanted in this one moment, and when you die, there's nothing for you to regret, and you'll be able to face death without fear.'

Easy for them to say. It's not their life they're losing.

My brother visited me that time simply out of good deed. Of everyone in the world, he could connect with me the most, just like how he managed to let my head stay in piece that day. My emotional state is really unhealthy, I don't know whether it came with AIDS, or it's just something I did to myself by being moody all day, but I find it incurable.

There are only temporary relieves when my brother comes to soothe me. But he's not here often. He has a job, he has his whole life in front of him. He has other people to visit, his has a lover to love. It's selfish to ask him to abandon all that just for me, but I can't help but hope he would.

I've also found a new way to release stress lately. Just cry. I realize crying really does help.

And so, sometimes, I would just sit by my bed, and I would just let the tears flow steady down my cheek. It drips onto my lap and I feel satisfaction. It feels sort of weird, because it's bitter sweet, really, I know you hear people use that word all the time, but for me, it really is. Bitter, because I am crying, I know I have so much stress and hatred and sadness in me, but also sweet, because when my tears flow, everything flows with it, and I feel peace within me. I could just sit like that for hours a day. My eyes were always red.

But silent crying is the only way I can get through each day, because all my emotions are cried away, and I am left empty inside, and I cannot do anything rash that way. And I think that's as close as I can get to happiness.

Everyday I cried, I cried so much the salt from my tears stunned the corners of my eyes. The patient dying on the bed next to mine stares at me daily, I think she thinks that I'm recalling endless terrible memories from the past and I can tell she hurts for me, but I do not care. Nothing, no one, on the face of this earth can move me now. I used to stare at the beauty of everything and my heart would pound faster. When I see a cute boy my cheeks would redden. When I do something wrong I feel a great pang to my chest.

But not anymore. No one, nothing, can shake me now, can arouse any sort of feelings in me, and it just might as well stay this way, at least I'm more stable, and won't die of a heart attack.

But crying isn't healthy. Although at the moment it relieves tension from my soul, overall, I'm getting weaker and weaker, filled with more sorrow by each passing day, and pretty soon, I couldn't eat, and I didn't even feel compelled to complain any more because I was so drained.

This is not good for me, and nurses and doctors came, and tried everything they can to cheer me up, but I stayed silent. However they made me promise to at least eat something to sustain the leftovers of my life, and this I agreed.

A nibble for breakfast, a bite for lunch, and a mouthful for dinner. I was getting paler and skinnier, and I craved for nothing. There was an empty hole filling the depth of my heart, but I was so used to it that it was nothing new, I felt as if this hole has been born with me and will die with me, nothing I do can change the truth of this.

But then one day, I got a cold. I coughed a little. This wouldn't be a big deal to you, but it could mean life or death for me. But I didn't really want to alert the nurses, so when they came, I held everything and didn't say a word, when they leave, I'd start coughing.

Three days passed like this, and on the fourth day, I couldn't stop coughing and sneezing. Sometimes I'd cough so hard I felt my life being spat out of my mouth. This the nurses noticed and they were scared, devastated even, and they had me take twice as much pills as I did before, and everyday, they would circulate my blood. This meant they'd take half of my blood, throw that away, and fill it with someone else's blood, basically. Because my blood no longer contained any working white blood cells, which destroyed my immune system.

I had to do this daily because the white blood cells would just be contaminated the next day by the stupid AIDS virus.

"When did this happen? When was the first time you began to get a cough?" The doctor asked me, furious.

"July 5th." I replied.

"And why didn't you tell me?"

"Because…"

"You know what it can do to you! I explained everything to you expecting you to be responsible for yourself! But this is what you do? You get sick and you don't tell me? I told you what the consequences are! Everyday, you complain about how you don't want to die, and this is how you prove it to me?"

"I don't have to prove it to you." I replied coldly. "You're not God, you can't give me life if I do something right."

"No." He replied wearily. "But you're cheating yourself."

--

Then I got sicker, day by day. First a cold, then a really bad cold, then mild fever, then a fever that could've cooked my brain alive, then I began to feel like I was paralysed.

Everything went like a blur for me those days, I wasn't even sure when I was awake or asleep anymore. Except that when I'm awake, I'm miserable, when I'm dreaming, all's possible.

Maybe I don't want to die, but I think a coma would be nice.

And that's what happened to me.

On July 28th, I went into a deep coma. For two hours at first. I woke up after that, but another three hours later, I went into another coma, which lasted for 4 days.

I did, however wake up. I still had a terribly frightening fever, dizzy eye sight, plugged ears, hoarse voice, and feels practically paralysed from waist down. But to add to that, my lips were parched and bleeding, and I had a weird taste into my mouth.

During my coma, it was actually quite pleasant, I had a dream, of place where there were rich colours warm lights, where choices weren't to be made but people led you to them, and when you open the door to that choice, everything was wondrous and all you were expected to do was to enjoy it, and if you were happy, everybody would be too, it was as if your happiness was the greatest and most important thing to everyone in this world. They loved you but they didn't spoil you like a queen. But their love was warm and I felt like joy itself.

It was a hard dream to wake up from, and I wondered now, after I woke up, perhaps I have died for a while during my coma and was brought back to life?

Anyways, where were we? Oh yes, I woke up on August 1st, and from that day, I began to get better graduately. I didn't know much, but I did know not only did I take 5 times as much pill as before my coma, had my blood cleaned twice a day, I also had 3 needle shots every morning and 2 before bed.

Only then, day by day, I felt easier to breath. And on August 20th, my fever was only light, and I was conscious of everything around me. The first thing that came to my head was, 'it's light.' As if it's always been good and normal, only to remember what had happened for the past month, and I was glad that my memory had not been burnt, though some thoughts from when I was little became unclear.

The doctor came in and he sat firmly by my bed. "We've almost lost you." He told me. "Next time you get sick, tell me." His voice was serious and I can see he had been worried about me. "This has cost your dad quite a bit of money, but what's more important, you could've not been brought back to life. You still have another at least 7 months to live, why are you doing this to yourself?"

"I'm not doing anything." I muttered. "I didn't give myself AIDS."

"Yes you did. If you did not have sex this wouldn't have happened to you."

I stared at him furiously. "DO NOT REMIND ME OF THAT!" I cried.

He didn't flinch, but just sat there as if all his patients did that to him, and now that I think about it, they probably did. "From today on," he began, ignoring my outburst. "You will eat properly and you will do everything we tell you. You will finish all your meals and I don't care how much pain it takes for you to do that, you will eat all your pills and not throw them out the window," he must have found the pills outside my window that I've thrown out the first week of my coming to this hospital until I realized I was better off with them, because he gave me some pain killers along with everything else, but I couldn't identify which ones so I just ate everything. "And stop crying because though you may not think, but it does damage your body internally. If you do not follow my instruction, I will have your dad here to supervise you day and night. He will not get any sleep and will not go to work because of you." The doctor paused and checked my pulse and touched my forehead and gave me three shots. "Do we understand each other?"

"Yes." I replied.

"Good." A nurse came in and put a tray in front of me plus a whole cup of pills. "Now I want you to eat it all and I'm going to sit here and make sure you do."

And that's what he did. He sat there until I licked every drop of soup. Swallowed every dot of mashed potato, every piece of the fish, and every string of the noodles.

To tell you the truth I wasn't being so obedient because I was worried about my dad. Who cares about him? A year later when I'm dead, he'll just take a 5 day nap and be all recovered and still have opportunities out there waiting for him, and he'll probably get a job that pays more for him than now. It is I, who is dying, and before I die, the one thing I am afraid of, is to be caged in. With dad here, I will be like a bird locked up in a white cage that's too small for me to fly around. And everyday I will watch the same things over and over again because I cannot go beyond its limit, my freedom will be all taken away and I know I'd go insane like that and probably end up committing suicide.

"That wasn't too bad, now was it?" The doctor said, smiling.

"To you maybe…" I said under my breath. But I faced him with a brief, forced smile. "No, it wasn't that bad, Dr… Dr…" It hit me then that I didn't even know my doctor's name. "You never told me your name." I said.

"Yes, I did, on your first day here."

"I must've been ignoring you."

He was silent for a bit, then brightened up again. "I'm Dr. Ada."

"That's a funny name." I said, but I didn't laugh like I would've if I were still my old self.

He was slightly offended but tried to cover it up. "Well, what can I say, I was born this way."

Then all of a sudden, having seen his face for forty minutes straight annoyed me, and I felt imprisoned and desperate to get away. "I'd like to go have a walk in the park." I said, standing up.

Dr. Ada brightened. "Why sure my darling!"

I stood and began walking away, with him behind me. "Alone." I added.

He stopped. "Well, that's fine too. But you know the rules, be back within two hours, I'll be checking."

"Sure." Without one last glance, I walked dizzily out into the courtyard.

--

This is probably the only thing I like about being a dying patient, I hardly ever have to hear the word 'no' again because every little thing I did, made people happy. They always think I'm on my way to become 'cheerful' again and treasure the rest of my life like those people on TV did.

Not happening anytime soon.

I usually do what I do to get away from them, from everybody. If only I could, I would grow magical wings and fly higher and higher into the sky. I would fly and never stop flying, and only then will I feel truly separated from everybody else, the livings, and I would be all alone with my wings and flying with the cold and crisp air. I don't know what I'd feel then, except that's all I can think now.

I sat under that same tree for an hour and just thought about how great it would be to get away from everything. Maybe not how great it would be, but how satisfying it would be for now, however I had a feeling once I was alone, I'd only feel worse.

Then I thought about the girl whose ball I had stolen from a month and a bit ago, and I found myself wondering if her mom bought her a new ball. I stared at where I first met her and suddenly I wanted her to come back. She was just so cute, so innocent, I suddenly felt the urge for the winds to blow her here, alone, without her mom and I'd just hug her tightly and tell her my sad story, and tell her a billions sorry, that I didn't mean all the cruel stuff I did to her and that I was unbalanced mentally and most likely physically as well.

But she didn't come. For a moment there I actually thought she would, but she didn't, and once again I had that feeling like in my dream again. I became two people. The 'me' was so sad and disappointed, while a further me, probably a wiser me, was expecting this, but even though I knew those two were both me, they would not connect, and since I was the 'me' on earth, I was so terribly stricken by the fact she had not showed up I began to cry again.

20 minutes later I gathered myself up and went back to my hospital room. Dr. Ada kept his promise and came to my room exact two hours after I left and check on me. "How do you feel now?"

"Lighter, less stressed, more clear." And split into two beings. I wanted to say, but I knew saying that would only frighten him, so I kept it to myself.

"It's time, again, my dear." He said, with a warm smile.

And I didn't have to ask. I simple sighed heavily and stood up again, and walked out of my room with Dr. Ada behind me.

What's it time for, You ask? My exchange of blood, to keep me alive and fight the still left of the diseases inside my body.

I was back in my room two hours later, feeling drained, and the new blood pricked inside me every time it circulated.

"Lie down and rest now, dear." Dr. Ada said, tugging me in.

I yawned helplessly and always wondered if they added some extra sleeping pill stuff with the blood to get me to rest faster.

--

I was woken up for lunch, which was an hour later, and again, Dr. Ada supervised me. After lunch I was still tired so I slept some more, and half an hour before dinner, I woke.

I stared outside and the stars looked as they always did from my window. I sighed. It's the same cycle over and over again, never anything changing. I'd honestly love it if a fire came. At least I'd be able to watch the firemen being brave and be kept awake and excited for a day.

"How are you, my child?" A dry voice said beside me.

It was that lady. "I'm ok…" I told her.

She smiled. "That's good… that's good…" There was some silence. "You know, they give you quite good food, it's actually better than what most other people get."

I was about to say, 'you get the same, don't you?' when I realized I've never seen her eat. She was always laying there and never moved. Sometimes maybe once a week, they'd pile her onto a wheel chair, and from my window, I'd see them pushing her around the hospital courtyard. They'd come back half an hour later and that'd be her tour for the week. She had many shots per day, but seriously, didn't she ever eat? "You… you never eat…" I said, half horrified that she may be a living dead.

She chuckled at my expression; perhaps I made it too clear on my face. "It hurts when I chew, child, so they bring the nutrition in a needle and it goes straight to my veins." She explained.

I was about to ask her whether someday I would become like that too, or was every case different, when my dinner arrived.

Again, Dr. Ada was there the whole time, watching me like a hawk.

"You were good today." He said to me after my dinner and pills and patted me on the head. "If you can keep this up everyday, I wouldn't have to be supervising you." He said with a smile. "Now, lie down and rest for ten minutes, and it'll be time for that again."

I nodded and leaned back against the fluffy pillows.

Ten minutes later I was back in the same room, and came back to my room two hours later, and again, I fell very tired. Dr. Ada gave me two shots, and then he left me to rest.

This is my life. I realize now, that already, it was worse than two months ago, when I still had conscious most of the day and didn't feel so easily tired. Now, I had about 3 hours of free and conscious life excluding my meal times, and I felt a shuddering chill going through my bones at the thought—knowledge, rather—that it'll only get worse from this point on.

I began to slip half way to dreamland again, and my last thoughts were, will I wake up tomorrow morning? And then, all was lost around me.

--

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Author's Note: I know I never have more than two unfinished story at once, but I have a feeling this story is going to be short, so it'll probably finish the same time as Reality's Difference, so when they are both done, I can finally post I Dare You 2. It was a dark story, I know, I feel very tired even as I was typing it out. Hope it didn't stress you too much and doesn't give nightmares.

7233 words. Pretty long for first part of a diary.