A/N: I don't really use my account much (although I read and review many stories, 'Amy' is my name) but I wrote this today and thought I'd quite like to share it with you lovely people. I'm well aware that there was recently a story on here featuring a cancer sufferer but I promise I have not plagarised it in any way. This all came from my own head, I promise. Anyway it's dark and angsty, as is my custom, and if you read please review- it's things like that that keep me writing :D
Isn't it funny how one little word can bring your whole world crashing down? I mean, one moment you're a big pop star. You have everything you could ever want and more. You have girls jumping at the chance to merely touch you, you're selling out whole arenas to people who want to see you perform and you have so much money that you can eat caviar for breakfast if you really want to!
And then you're told you have cancer. Terminal. 6 months left to live, a year if you're lucky. Then what do you do? It doesn't matter how many girls you've got, how many arenas you fill, how much cash you've got- you're going to die. And there's nothing you can do about it.
You have to go home and look your band mates in the eye and tell them that you're not going to be around much longer. You have to watch as they look at you, laughing as they're so sure it's a joke. Then you watch as their face's crumple as they realise that in fact you're not joking, you're deadly serious. They fall apart in front of your very eyes and you can't do anything because, let's be honest, you're falling apart on the inside too.
Then it gets even worse because you have to travel to see your Mother and tell her the news. You have to look at her joy filled eyes when she sees you standing at the door, surprised at the fact you're actually visiting (you never do visit enough) and you know that within a couple of minutes you're going to break her heart.
She won't be quiet as you try to tell her, she's too interested in telling you about how your sister has got a new boyfriend (again) and you end up shouting it out whilst she's in the middle of her sentence, causing her to drop the tea pot she was holding.
You spend the next two hours trying to comfort her but you're not sure why, she's not the one about to die. Of course, she'll have to live with the aftermath of your death but she'll get over it eventually, she's got another kid. Plus you never visit anyway so it's not like anything's really going to change. There'll just be one less present to buy at Christmas.
You leave 4 hours later, your Mother insists you stay for tea as you 'have to make the most of your time together' but you don't think sitting in an awkward silence whilst eating overcooked pork really constitutes as making the most of it. You'd much rather be at home eating a Chinese take-away and watching David Attenborough.
The following months are filled with trips to the hospital, your band mate's houses and you Mum's place. You decide not to tell the fans what's going on and merely tell them that the band is taking a time-out, ready to return with a fresh new sound. And they will return with a new sound- it'll be a sound you're not part of.
As the months draw on you grow steadily weaker until you're forced to admit you can't cope on your own anymore, a point proven when it's discovered that you've been pissing in the kitchen sink as it's too much effort to make it to the bathroom.
You're moved into a hospice where they can help manage your pain and it's a relief and you almost wish that you'd come in here the moment you were diagnosed but you realise that if you had have been, you would have missed out on so much.
You're visited daily by your family and band mates, your Mother having gone as far as to move into your flat just so she doesn't have to drive down from Essex every day although you know she would have if there'd been no where for her to stay.
In your final days, you spend it drifting in and out of consciousness, not really being aware of anyone around you and not caring either. You're sick and you're in pain and you want out and there is a moment when you think of ending it all but then you realise that you'll be dead in a couple of days anyway so what's the point?
Your Mum is there until the very end, holding your hand as you take your last breath and fall into an eternal slumber. She collapses on top of you, crying her heart out and had you been alive you would have wondered why, it's not like she didn't know you were going to die.
The fans find out pretty quickly about your death and there's a big thing about it in the papers, lot's of stories about how you died, where you died, who was there when you died but no one really pays too much attention, everyone's still in shock.
When the band release a new album, and you always knew they would, it reaches number 1 and stays there for what seems like forever although no one really knows why. Well, they know it's to do with your death but no one really understands because it's not like buying the album brings you back and you're not featured on the album anyway, it was written after you died.
The papers emerge again with lots of stories about songs that are supposedly dedicated to you and how the band aren't coping after your death but it's all a load of lies because the band got a new bass player in before you were even dead and your Mum's over it to, she's got another kid.
And then you're forgotten, another famous pop star who died too early because they smoked things they shouldn't have and didn't go to the doctor's when they were told to. The girls who once lusted after you move on to someone else, the arena's are still filled but it's not to see you anymore and your money is still in the bank but it's in your Mum's name now.
The paper's go back to writing about drunken stars falling out of clubs, your band (although it's not really your band anymore) continue making music with their new bass player and you? You're in a hole in the ground, gone and forgotten, just another nameless grave.