Donnie sat on the fire escape, looking out into the start night in front of him. He thought of the night, seemingly forever going. It left a time to think and relax for the young boy, who just recently turned fifteen. The science kit he got for his birthday was sitting on his desk waiting to be used, but he couldn't bring himself to open it. He just wanted to think.
At school, he was more commonly known as "the freak", "the purple haired boy", "the weird named kid", and so on. Yes his hair was purple, but he had a looking for it, and he was born with it. So he was named Donatello, it's not like he had a choice. The name was passed on through his family. So his full name would be Donatello Nicholas Johnson, the fourth.
His eyes were also purple, he was really pale, and if you looked close enough, you could see the fifteen years of his life in his eyes, full of pain and sickness. You see, he has sickle cell disease. He had been living with it his entire life, and it wasn't getting better, it was getting worse.
The other day he overheard a phone call his mom had with his doctor, who said Don most likely wouldn't live past his next birthday. That was a week ago. His birthday was the week before.
At the thought of the memory Donnie burst out crying; no one, not even in New York City, would hear him at this time of night. He finally calmed down, going through the window to get to his room. Half way to his bed, he started to cough, and a sharp pain filled his chest. He knew these were signs of acute chest syndrome and he needed to get his parents. Fast. Good thing they had an intercom system in the apartment. He walked over to the speaker, and through the agonizing pain of breathing, he pressed the button and called for them. He started to cough again, and through the pain in his chest, walked to his bed and layed down. His mom and dad were there five seconds later, his mom holding a thermometer and his dad holding his cell phone, just incase. They rushed over to their poor, ailing son, his mom sticking the thermometer in his mouth. They noticed how hard it was for their sick son just to breathe, and their worry intensified. The thermometer beeped and Don's mom took it out of her poor son's mouth. A hundred and three point four. They needed to get him to the hospital fast. While Don's mom took the cell phone and called nine one one, the dad walked over to his son and tried to comfort him.
"Dad?" Donnie asked, coughing a little in the process.
"Yeah?" His voice faltered a bit since his son's voice was full of pain.
"Will I be okay?" Donnie's dad didn't know how to answer that question. The last time Donnie had a problem, he was in the hospital for a little over a week. In that time Don's heart stopped twice.
"I guess only time will tell. But for now you don't need to worry about it. Just breathe and don't fall asleep, alright?"
"Okay dad." Don's dad helped him sit up to ease his breathing a bit, while his mother finished the call.
"When will the ambulance get here. Donnie's getting worse." Right at that sentence, Don started to cough again and it was getting even harder to breathe for him.
"It should be here in a few minutes. I just hope Donnie will be alright."
Two hours later...
"Is he going to be okay?"
"Will my son be alright?"
"Relax. He should be fine. Though his breathing is alarming. We had to check to make sure there weren't any other blockages in his system and we found out he had two along his ribs and a few throughout his lungs. But he should be fine."
"When do you think he will be out of the hospital?"
"Probably in a few days. We're afraid that unless he gets worse you can't stay the night with him though."
"That's fine. We just wanted to make sure he was fine before we left. Thank you."
"No problem. Have a nice night."
As the two parents walked out to their car, the mom said a silent prayer.
'Oh dear heavenly father, help us in our time of need. Let him live. Oh Lord, help us.'