I was never the most fortunate of children. Dad bounced from job to job, struggling to support me while my worthless Mother was off pushing out kid after kid -she'd abandoned me as soon as the first sign of health problems came to the surface, the first of many I'd face over the years. It was all her fault anyways. Had she not used drugs throughout her entire pregnancy with myself, I would probably have been a healthy child.

Dad worked his ass off. He held me as I screamed during every operation until the anaesthesia stole away my senses, he cuddled me after every single injection, blood transfusion or test and immunisation I endured, wiping away my tears and consoling me every single time I was in pain, getting me through it after I wept that I couldn't take anymore of the torture I endured on each trip to Forks Community Hospital. He was my hero.

My life was simple. I attended school with my best friend, in her living room. Her mother home-schooled me -hospital appointments were frequent, and regular school just didn't work out as a result of that. But I was clever. I could name the Periodic table off by heart, and I could name all of the different illnesses that commonly affected children, although I put this down to being in the hospital for most of my life. I was a regular there, and always eager to learn about my ailing body the best I could to understand just how screwed up I was on the inside.

Although he tried to be there the best he could, Dad had to leave the reservation often and go travelling to make money. It was because of this that Grams lived with us. She was a sweet old lady, her crinkling brown eyes always glittering those times I found enough energy to laugh, or when she saw me as peaceful as I could be, my face not twisted in an agonised grimace. I loved her.

She had no tolerance for my Mother either, something I respected her for. She too knew that had narcotics not been used during my months of growth, I probably wouldn't be dying from a multitude of conditions and diseases.

Renal failure, Chronic heart failure in the form of Dilated Cardiomyopathy. Sickle Cell Anaemia, those weekly blood transfusions a result of that horrible disease. It was all her fault. Everything was her fault. Millions of women had children every year, and yet next to none of them used drugs throughout all of those months they were carrying my children. Why had mine? I suffered constant lung infections, the fluid being drained out each and every time, and each and every time being more dangerous than the one before that one. Chronic respiratory failure had recently been added to the ever growing list of problems my pathetic body was enduring.

Leukaemia had been the last straw. I almost never left the hospital after that diagnosis. It was unending. Every day was filled with a needle poke, a test, something that the doctors would find to check my progress. I made long standing friends with the nurses and doctors there. How couldn't I? They were the constant faces of those keeping me alive, however impossible it was to tempt death as I knew that would be my ultimate outcome at the end of the mother fucking rainbow.

I refused treatment. It didn't matter if I had refused it or not anyways. Dad couldn't afford it. Grams couldn't afford it. I didn't even want it anymore. What was the point? I would just be unresponsive to it anyways.

Grams stared at me as I came to, my mouth as dry as the Sahara Desert. She offered me a gentle smile, her russet native coloured skin crinkling as she reached for the small plastic cup with the polka dot straw. I knew it contained water. She leaned forward, extending the hideous looking straw towards me. "Small sips, dear." She murmured and I supressed the urge to roll my eyes even though I was too weak to even keep my grey BLUE coloured eyes open. I was half native, half not. My hair was the blackest black imaginable and typically curled over the shoulders in gentle curls. She'd straightened it before I went under as something so simple typically took my mind off of the horrible details. I had the typical russet coloured native skin like Grams and Dad, and I was petite at only five feet and two inches tall. I made up for my lack of height in how big my mouth was, that was damn for sure.

I took a small sip, the cold water temporarily soothing my dry throat. She pulled it away, lifting my needle free hand to her mouth and gently pressing her lips against my knuckles. I eyed her through barely open eyes. "How'd I do?" I whispered, my voice cracked and hoarse.

Her dark eyes seemed sad, but I knew it was because she detested seeing me like this. "Like a little star." She whispered back, her eyes beginning to shine. "I'm so proud of you. They said everything went smoothly, and they were able to drain all the fluid this time without you going into respiratory distress. An improvement, they said." She explained and I tried to muster up a small smile, but my lips wouldn't obey my mind. She saw the slight tremor of my lips and pressed another kiss to my knuckles. "I know." She soothed before giving me a bright smile, the sight making me a little bit calmer. "Your father will be back tomorrow morning. He took the weekend off to make sure you were alright. He sends his love and left you in my very capable hands until he gets here."

That made me a little happier despite how weak and fragile I felt. "I've missed him," I whispered and she nodded with a smile of her own. "I know you have, my sweet Eleanora." She whispered, my brows crinkling as she used my old, grandma like name. She supposedly suggested it to Dad in honour of my Great Grams, and while I prefer it to be shortened to Elle, or Nora on the rare occasion, I hate the name Eleanora. It screams of coming from the olden days before cell phones. I inwardly shudder at the thought of no cell phones. How could I have ever coped back in those times without my beloved cell? I would have died long ago had that been the case in this day and age.

She gave my hand a gentle squeeze. "Carrie came by to see you earlier but you were still asleep." She announced and I looked at her. Carrie was also another reason to attempt to make the most of my miserable existence. Considering her Mom home-schooled us both and was like the one I never had to me, we had been inseparable for as long as we both could remember. We were super whizzes at Chemistry and Maths too, well, her Chemistry slightly more than me. It was Biology that just clicked for me. How couldn't it considering I knew more about my body than anyone else? All those times learning about what each individual disease or condition I had was paying off.

I licked my dry lips. "Can you tell her I'm awake then?" I whispered and she nodded, standing up. "After you've seen the doctor, my love."

(W*W)

Dad enveloped me into a gentle hug, being careful of all the wires as he wrapped me up in his big strong form. He was a giant of a man at just under six feet six inches tall, and I loved how he could just make all my worries go with one simple embrace. He pressed a kiss into my still straight raven black hair. "How's my girl doing?" He greeted. He eyed me warily. "No more ink I hope, or piercings?" He stated with a hard stare.

That was something we agreed to disagree on. Whenever we went to visit my maternal Grams every time we had the chance to between hospital appointments, I'd somehow sneak off every single time and return with either new ink or piercing, or sometimes both. To say he was unimpressed was an understatement. He was livid when it happened the last time, especially considering I'm not even sixteen years old yet.

I shook my head slightly. "No. I'm inked enough I think." I muttered sullenly and he hummed under his breath, taking a seat on the bed beside me. "I agree. Now, I need to have a talk with you about something." He sighed, rubbing a hand down his stubble bearded face.

That made me frown and I smiled slightly. "What about?" I questioned and he sighed. "Sandra can't home-school you girls anymore. She's struggling with the bills now that the money is running out, and Carrie will be attending the school on the reservation."

My world came crashing down and I shook my head. "I cannot go to public school!" I pleaded, tears pooling in my eyes. He gave me a soft look. "They'll make fun of me because of my breathing apparatus and the fact I'm sick all of the time. Remember what happened in Elementary school?!" I cried out and he sighed. "I don't want you to either sweetheart, but Grams can't tutor you. She knows nothing of the stuff you do with Sandra and I'm always out of the state working. You need to give it a go, Ellie." He stated and I scowled, tears burning at my eyes.

Then came the red hot anger from my famous temper. "It doesn't matter anyway!" I snapped venomously. "I'm dying, so who gives one if I get a good education or not! It's not like I can use it when I'm dead and six feet under, is it?"

I regretted the last sentence immediately as hurt seared in his chocolate brown eyes, the sheen in those dark orbs telling me I'd brought him close to tears. He swallowed and was silent for a moment before standing. "I'll uh, leave you to think about what you just said while I go ask the doctor how your last operation and tests got on." He said, not looking at me before he walked quickly from the room, not slamming the door behind him like I expected him to.

I pulled my pillow to my mouth and let out a scream into it, my hot, angry tears soaking the plush whiteness of it. The grief was consuming. What the hell was the point of going to school? I'd been right when I said I couldn't use them when I was dead. That was where I'd be in less than two years. Would there going to be some miraculous cure awaiting me in the public school on the reservation? Not fucking likely, and I wasn't sure if that's what hurt most, or the fact that I'd more than likely just broke the only hero I had ever truly known.