The pain was blinding. It made every sight and sound around me go fuzzy. Everything that I touched did not feel the same as it had before. Every breath that I took was a physical fight between what my mind wanted and what my body wanted. My mind wanted one more second of life, while my body wanted nothing more than to give in. But I would not let it.
Not while my thoughts were still intact, still coherent. They were all that I had left. I had often wondered what my last days of living would be like; none of my imagining even came close to the truth.
I had often sat awake at night, picturing how I would die, just like how I was imagining it would be like at this moment. Not deeply asleep, but close to it. Alone, in my bed, my parents had just said good night to me and left. It would be quiet and almost painless, and I would drift off, like falling asleep. But honestly, who was I kidding?
My parents were both sitting by my bed, crying of course. They were blurry shapes and when they talked only a few words managed to slip into my mind.
"Sweetheart I…" my mothered whispered, and then her words faded into nothing.
But I was glad that I could not really hear them. Because I knew that what they said would be words of comfort and reassurance. That I would "be okay" and that I would "make it through this". What utter horseshit. Obviously I would not be okay. If the disgusting, yellow liquid dripping out from a hole in my lungs, my fighting, wheezing breath, and the effort and burning pain of every breath that I took was not enough, then you would think the fact that the doctors had already told me that I "didn't have much time left" would be.
Such was not the case. They were stubborn enough to refuse to acknowledge the fact that I truly would be their grenade. That the second that I died I would let off an explosion of grief, despair, loneliness, and disappointment. This was what my life was destined to be.
I never really was able to have a normal teenage life. One where I foolishly aspired to become a doctor, a model, or to join the military. Aspired to do something where I could make a difference in the world. Not that it mattered much anyway; those teenage dreams never saw daylight. The wannabe doctors would be sitting in stuffy, old offices, the models would be working low-end retail jobs, and the military veterans would be living in their parent's basements.
I, from very nearly the beginning, was fated to die. All those drugs ever did was just drag it all out. But then again, without those drugs, I would never have had the time or, dare I say it, the hope to meet and fall in love with Augustus Waters.
If Augustus were here, he would not be telling me that everything would be all right. He would wait to cry so that I could not see him and know that I was his grenade as well. He would be sitting next to me, holding my hand, and telling me that I look like shit. Which I am positive is true.
One of the greatest regrets that I had in my life was that I was not there for Augustus when he died. I did not really even say a proper goodbye to him. But that didn't matter as much as the fact that I was not there with him. My parents had almost scolded me for spending so much time with him before he died. I tried not to be mad at them for that, but I could not help it. I knew that deep down, they had made me feel guilty and like I had abandoned them or something. That was why I wasn't there that night. But I cannot blame them entirely; I should have been there with him that night no matter what.
I laid there trying to tune out the humming around me and imagine that Augustus was sitting in the chair next to my hospital bed. That his long, cold, and fragile fingers were entwined with mine and that his chin was resting on the pillow next to me.
"Hey Hazel Grace." He would whisper as though he were afraid that his voice might break me into a million pieces.
"Hey." I said back to him as loud as I could manage. I was determined not to die as a pathetic little weakling.
"Okay?" He whispered?
"Okay. I guess."
"You guess? What the hell do you mean, you guess? What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well, besides the fact that my life is very slowly and very steadily slipping away from me, I am in a nearly unbearable amount of pain, my entire body has become frail and useless, and I am causing my parents more grief than I had ever wanted too… I miss you."
"I miss you too. More than you even know."
"Oh, I don't know about that." I replied. I missed him pretty damn much. "So is there a capital S Somewhere out there, or was I right as usual?"
"Don't be such a smart ass, Hazel Grace. And besides I'm not going to tell you. Even if I wanted to tell you it wouldn't exactly be fair that every other person that's had to die had to wait to find out if there was a Somewhere and you got to find out prematurely. As much as I love you I still have to follow my morals."
"All right fine, I guess that's only fair. But will I at least be able to see you again?" I tried not to sound too terribly desperate, but it was hard.
"That I really don't know. I hope so." At least he was not too proud to have to hide the desperation in his voice.
"So do I Gus." And then he was gone.
At least I had my active imagination to keep me company in what I knew would be the last moments of my life. That and the memory of Augustus. I was thankful that right now my thoughts of him were more vivid than they had been since he died, six months and fourteen days ago. They were just about all that I had left.
The sound of a low and sympathetic conversation just outside my door snapped me out of my reverie, something about "time" and "saying goodbye". The sound of wailing attempting to be unsuccessfully contained followed soon after those words. "Must be dad", I thought.
I held what little breath I had in me, hoping that they would not come in and knowing that they would.
It almost felt like they knew that I was nothing more than their grenade and yet, they were okay with it. As each second passed with them outside that door, I could feel the time slipping by inside me as well. It was only a matter of time until the seconds ran out and I blew up, destroying everything in my path. I wanted them to leave, to try and forget about me and go on with their lives as soon as possible. I had caused them enough pain and regret already. In fact, throughout the majority of my life, that's all that I really was; pain, regret, and unspeakably high medical bills. And yet, there they were walking through the door, trying to conceal their sniffling, red faces, and watery eyes.
"…Honey," was all that I heard from my dad. I imagined what they would be saying, that they knew I was going to die. That they loved me, I was a wonderful daughter, and that they were so sorry that this happened to me when I was so young. I had been in so much pain sometimes and they would apologize for me not being able to have a more normal life.
Me fucking too.
But it was too late for that now. And besides, I had it better in 17 years than a lot of people ever do. At least my parents weren't drug dealers or rapists or anything. Although, it would have been nice to be able to do some things for myself for a change, without Mom following me around in her car. I had sympathized with Gus that night I had found him outside of the gas station. The worst part of having cancer wasn't all the doctor's appointments, or the pain, or even the stares from other people, it was having to depend on other people to do everything for you.
My whole body was aching now. Mom and dad were still hovering over me, talking quietly, but my ears were entirely numb now. All I could hear was a soft beeping coming from the hospital machines, which was not the last thing I wanted to hear. In fact, the soreness was slowly ebbing and being replaced by a numb felling. It spread from the top of my head all the way down to my toes. Relief came as well; at least I would not be in pain. Except for the pain that I was already in.
I was coming up to within seconds of my expiration date. Soon, my body would be nothing but a shell of what I used to be. My only hope was that maybe there was a Somewhere like Augustus had believed, but I could not bring myself to truly believe that. I would never see Gus again, or my parents, and they would never see me.
There was no miracle drug or therapy that would save me now. And there was nothing left for me.