Chapter 1: The Fault in our Dreams
"Hazel-Grace Lancaster," I heard a familiar voice say. Breathing a sigh of relief I sat bolt upright. It was all just a dream. But I turned to my right. The grey chair next to my bed was empty. Augustus Waters the love of my life was nowhere to be seen. Despair took over. I let out distorted cries, not caring about what people thought. I only cared what he thought. And he was gone.
"Hazel-Grace. Is it the swing set of tears? We sold that under the name of, 'vaguely paedophilic swing set seeks the butts of children' a while ago." Augustus said, his unmistakable voice and crooked smile. "No, I just don't want this particular life." I wept, before it sunk in. He was there beside me. He wasn't dead. I didn't really write a eulogy. Peter Van Houten hadn't gone to his funeral, neither had I.
"Augustus. What happened?"
"They drained the fluid from your lungs, but you've been unconscious for several days."
"What about Amsterdam? And your PET scan?" My eyes darted around, searching for answers.
"All just precautionary and they were fine. I'm on my rollercoaster and I'm still going up. Not going down for a long time. And, Hazel, Amsterdam hasn't happened yet. We're going as soon as you're well enough. I knew the gas they had you on made you hallucinate but well that's…?"
"Your thoughts are stars, you cannot fathom into constellations?"
"Hazel-Grace, you have just been unconscious for several days and when you wake up one of the first things you say is your own version of Elias Canetti's quote: 'A head full of stars, just not in constellation yet.' That totally explains the current situation. God I love you. And that's why. You are so busy being you, that you have no idea how utterly unprecedented you are."
