Written for MarshmallowStarfish – this time, it will stay Shane/Claire…
The rest of you sharks who love Shane/Claire… this will stay Shane/Claire… it just may get a bit depressing…
I don't own anything besides the plotline…
It's my first attempt at a diary – I can't be bothered to keep one myself, so I don't do diary entries – so sorry if it isn't how it should be.
Claire's POV:
I can't believe this has happened. I can't believe I am standing here, clothed in black, and alone.
I pick up my diary and begin to leaf through it, trying to find every memory of him possible. So I start… I start right at the beginning of all the problems…
Sunday 24th April 2011
Dear diary,
It's happening.
The destruction of my life.
The destruction of my happiness has begun, and it all started today.
Shane had been under the weather recently, always with a cold or lethargic, but he didn't want to go to the doctor.
"Claire, I can't afford to go and be told I have a cold, something I already know!" he insisted whenever I brought it up. He wouldn't listen to me, or Eve or even Michael, but he never listens to Michael since he turned vamp.
Yet when the cold/illness reached the fifth month and it was getting worse and worse, he finally relented. He agreed to go and see Dr Mills at Accident and Emergency (E.R) just because if he didn't, work would fire him. it hurt me slightly that he wouldn't go because I was worried for him, just that if he didn't get his illness sorted out, he wouldn't have a job anymore.
Still, he was going and that was all that mattered. So I went with him down to the hospital and Dr Mills met us in the A&E, taking Shane into a cubicle to look him over.
"Physically, you are in great shape," the good doctor said, evidently baffled. "But I can't see why you have had the same cold for five months – it should last six weeks at a maximum. I need to run some bloods, to check something out," he continued, and Shane exchanged a worried and panic stricken look with me. I can't afford tonnes of bloods, the look told me, and I knew that, of course, his health would boil down to money.
"How much do they cost?" he asked Dr Mills, trying to hide the edge of panic in his voice.
"I can do them for $25, just because of you, Claire," he responded unsurely, taking a cursory glance at my bracelet to show just who would be paying… yay, another favour from Amelie, I thought at the time. Now, now I am glad that I took this contract, if it meant that Shane could get the bloods. (a/n… this is why I am SO glad I am English and have the NHS!)
So he drew the blood and took it away for analysis whilst Shane and I just waited in the waiting room, unsure what to do. We couldn't leave because we didn't know when Dr Mills would return, but we didn't have anything to do. So we just sat together, hand in hand, until he returned with the gravest face I have ever seen. We knew then that it couldn't be good.
"You have cancer," he gave it to Shane straight, knowing that he would accept it better than if he gave him a load of science waffle.
I, on the other hand, couldn't react in such a way. I still can't believe that Shane has cancer, to be honest.
"No, he has a cold – flu at the worst – so how does he have cancer?" I exploded; feeling Shane's hand tense on my own as I mega overreacted. But I had to – I didn't know how he could have cancer!
I looked over at Shane who had his head bent over, as if he was actually believing the doctor…. I knew I should do, that he wouldn't lie and say surprise, I was joking, but I couldn't. I couldn't accept that Shane was going to die.
He would leave me.
"I'm afraid it's true, Claire, Shane, I hate to break it to you," Dr Mills said, and he sounded truly apologetic. He didn't want to be the one breaking the news to us that Shane has cancer, but he had to be. "It is much more severe than we would have liked… I'm afraid that only strong chemotherapy and radiotherapy programmes will have the slightest effect on the tumour… it is too dangerous to remove it, because it is spreading from his torso to his brain, but we hope that intensive treatment will reduce it enough to lengthen your-" he said before Shane cut him off.
"How long do I have left?" he asked bluntly, no emotion inflicting his voice – that's just what shows how he is really shaken, really stirred by what is happening.
"If you take the treatment, maybe three or four years," Dr Mills hesitated before explaining his short life… that was with the treatment as well…
"And if I chose to let it go ahead without treatment?" Shane queried, and I could hear the fear in his voice. I tightened my grip on his hand and looked sideways at him, so anxious for him – if he was worried about the money, then I couldn't bear that: I mean, we can afford it if it is for his life.
"Then you have three or four months," the doctor revealed quietly, evidently not wanting to share this. "But the chemo, the therapy, it means that you have an extra lease of life…" he pressed, not for the monetary side of it but just for me to be with Shane – I know that!
Shane shook his head and stood up, wrenching his hand out of mine. "For four years of slowly getting weaker in hospital?" he said rhetorically. "I'd rather live my time out at home, without feeling awful from the therapy… I'm going now. Claire, are you coming?" he continued, walking to the door and through it without another word.
I glanced back at the doctor who looked as if he expected this. "Claire, I am so sorry… it's so awful that he has this. I shall have the specialist give you a call…" he said as I darted out of the door after Shane.
"Shane, wait!" I called after his retreating figure, barely able to catch up with him because he was moving so fast. Finally, he stopped by the dark corner which I always associated with vampire visitors (normally the hospital doesn't get that many) and turned back to me, his eyes filled with tears.
As soon as I reached him, I wrapped him in a huge hug, comforting him as much as possible. "Honey, it will be ok," I tried to comfort him but I didn't believe the words. He was dying – he is dying! How can he be ok?
He shook his head before walking away with me under his arm. We climbed into the car and we came back here, to the Glass House, which was still empty – thankfully. I doubt that he could even begin to explain what is going on; it's still going around in my head. I can't believe, I really can't, that he is dying. He is going to leave me because he doesn't want the treatment!
If that is because he can't afford it, I think I will kill him myself.
But now my world is crashing down around me; only this morning, we were happy together. Now, we're on borrowed time – until he dies, we're happy. And that could be six months, four months, or even tomorrow. We don't know.
What do I do?
Claire
Sad, right?
I swear the story will get better… I just had to set the scene and stuff – I have some good, but rather depressing, things that can happen xD
Please review!
I'll try and update soon
Vicky xx
