The Light of My Life

Chapter 1—True Pain

A/N: Wow, look who it is. Yes, you. I'm talking to you. Back for more? Well, I'm glad you decided to click the link. (Ah, yes, and if you're new, I recommend that you go onto my profile and read Three Ghosts of Love first. This might actually be fine as a stand-alone type of story, but the previous tale will be referred to many times.) Our lovely Ally Dawson gets to have the point of view this time, and just like with Austin, things will get pretty intense, interesting, intriguing, and any other i-words you can think of. Though there are no love ghosts this time, Ally will get a few surprises of her own. Maybe they'll even shine a light to guide her along the road of life... I think you'll all enjoy it very much. ;)

Until today, I had never experienced true pain.

I thought it hurt when I broke my ankle in third grade and sobbed for hours. I thought it hurt when I watched an old childhood friend move away forever. I thought it hurt when I was told by my parents that they were getting a divorce. I thought it hurt being humiliated on live television due to a traumatizing fear of stage fright. I thought it hurt when my ex-boyfriend dropped back into my life out of the sky.

But, no—none of what I have been through would have ever prepared me for this moment. The thing was that I knew this moment was coming, but part of me hoped for a miracle, and that what was to come would never come. There were no words to precisely describe how I feel right now. All I feel is nauseous and dizzy and paralyzed and furious. All I feel is pain. For the first time in my life, I can actually feel what pain actually is.

Pain is nauseating, feeling sick to your stomach and resentment of anything you have eaten earlier on. Pain is dizzying, feeling that everything surrounding you is spinning and that it won't stop until you fall. Pain is paralyzing, feeling so shocked that you are unable to move a single muscle or bone in your body. Pain is infuriating, feeling that there is not a single thing to do in order to stop the causes and potential results of a situation.

Pain. The things it can do to you.

And not that breaking my ankle, watching my friend move away, having my parents tell me about the divorce, being publicly embarrassed, or having my ex-boyfriend come back wasn't nauseating, dizzying, paralyzing, or infuriating, but none of those times were even close to what I'm feeling right now. The combination of all of those feelings: that is true pain.

As I stand here, it gets harder to breathe, harder to think, harder to just...function. I can't believe this is happening. It can't be happening.

It just can't.

I want to say that everything is fake, an illusion. I wish that none of this is real, that nothing is real right now. I wish that everything could just disappear, that I could just disappear, even for a moment. I couldn't believe this was happening; I just couldn't.

And as I tried to continue to function, I think of anything that I could possibly do in hopes of making things better, but I can't. And that's infuriating. When I decide to sit down in the chair next to me, it hurts to move and settle down in the seat. And that's paralyzing. I try to process everything that's going on, but all my thoughts become jumbled in my mind like a puzzle with missing pieces. And that's dizzying. Through all that, I begin to regret the ice cream I decided to eat before coming here. And that's nauseating.

This is all too much to take in. I couldn't do this.

I'm just weak. Cowardly. Unprepared.

Yet, how could have I ever been prepared to what I was facing right now and then what I was about to face in the next four weeks? There's no more avoiding it.

I tried to brush it aside before—the incoming pain—but now that the moment has come, everything that I pushed aside comes back to punch me right in the face. I feel numb everywhere like I had been beaten into a pulp, but I hadn't been touched at all. I feel it hard to breathe, but I hadn't moved an inch from where I'm sitting. I feel it hard to function, but I'm not doing anything.

And that's just the thing. I'm not doing anything because I can't do anything.

Unintentionally, a waterfall of tears begins to slide down my face. My hands form fists and my knuckles turn white. I feel my head pounding with each passing second in sync with my heated heartbeat.

"How long?" my voice croaks in a whisper.

The doctor replies almost nonchalantly, "Four weeks, Ms. Dawson. It may not seem like a lot of time, but at least it's time."

Four weeks. That's all he had left. This is it. The last four weeks of his life. In four weeks, it's going to be all over.

When I don't say anything, the doctor continues, "I'm sorry for your loss." Lies. He probably says that every day. "I'll give you a moment with him."

I watch the doctor in all his white lab coat glory walk out of the hospital room leave me alone with him. At first, I don't do anything. I can only feel the luminescent glow of the ceiling lights and the slow, but normal beep of the heart rate monitor. All else is still and silent almost like time has stopped for these few peaceful moments.

Then, I take his hand in mine, and say, "Dad?"

Of course, he doesn't answer. He's still only asleep.

"Dad," I repeat, pushing a lock of brown hair behind my ear. "I know you're still asleep, but I'm going to be here. I'm always going to be here." I stand up and look down at him.

I sniffle a few times. "I know that soon you're not going to be around anymore. That's why I'm going to make sure I'm here these last four weeks with you. I love you, Dad."

I squeeze his hand before letting go of it. For another eternity, I just stand and watch him. Watch my father continue to die of leukemia right before my eyes.

I have known for a long time about the cancer, but when I found out—when he found out that he had cancer, it was too late. The inevitable was going to happen. The grains of sand in his hourglass were falling through too quickly, and no barrier could be put through to stop the flow from continuing.

I hate knowing that all I could do is wait for time to catch up with my father so that death can take him away. I absolutely hate knowing that. I don't understand why things like this happen. My father is going to soon disappear from this world to who-knows-where and all I can do is just wait. How could this have happened? None of this could be real. I still didn't want to believe that this was all real. A part of me just doesn't want to accept that. That this is the end of things and that no matter what I do—if I do anything for that matter—that it would have no effect on what will happen in four weeks. What I do will affect nothing.

Is there any point anymore? I'm not sure what to do. What I can do. What I should do.

I still feel it. The nauseating, dizzying, paralyzing, infuriating feeling inside of me that I can't shake off. I can't get rid of it. I don't know how.

Pain. The things that it does to you.