5:00

She had always said that everything happens at five o'clock. But I never understood why.

Even the white walls seemed dull and lifeless. The light blue curtains hid room 623 from the outside. I sat in the waiting room praying, and crying.

I slowly fan my fingers through my messy brown hair.

She'd been fighting this for years, but nothing this serious had ever occurred. And as I waited, I knew that it was over. Her life would be taken away at the young age of 14. And nothing could stop it. No amount of chemotherapy, no stupid doctor, nothing would prevent the inevitable.

I knew that Alexandria Hope Carter only had minutes left.

The doctor came out and stood in front of me, a solemn look residing on his face.

"She's gone, isn't she?" I asked in a calm tone.

"Not yet. She say's she's waiting for you," he replied, obviously unhappy with this.

"Stupid Alex. Lying in pain just to see me," I mumbled, closing the door behind me.

Alex laid, eyes shut, on a tacky blue hospital bed. Oxygen tubes were hooked up, as well as several IVs.

I then occupied the cushioned white chair beside her.

"Sam?" she said, barely audible.

"Yeah, it's me."

Her breathing was labored, coming out in uneven, shallow gasps.

"You can let go Alex, I won't mind," I murmured, voice breaking.

"No, not yet," she insisted. "I want to thank you, for sticking by me. For sitting here, waiting for the end."

There she goes again, being selfless, same old Alex.

"I should be the one thanking you. You're the nicest, kindest person ever. You're wallowing in misery just to say goodbye to me," I countered.

"No I'm not," she persisted quietly.

I didn't have the heart to continue. I couldn't let our last words be fighting.

"Okay. But you are like a sister to me," I said.

"You're the sister I always wanted."

Her breaths became harsher. After each inhale she would wince, in obvious pain.

"Don't do this to yourself Alex. Please just let go," I whispered to her.

I didn't get a reply. A low, steady beep filled the room.

I took in a sharp gasp and let a few tears fall. But I wouldn't cry. I had to stay strong. Stay strong for my family, strong for Alex's mom, strong for Alex.

"I'll miss you," I called to the ceiling.

The clock's time was 5:00.

A week has passed since the death of Alex Carter, and now the green hill beside the church if filled with people dressed in black.

The white casket was suspended above the hole it would soon fill. I knelt close by and laid a red rose on top.

"I'm sorry. For everything. No matter what you said, you are the best. It will never be the same without you," I said seriously.

As the casket lowered, my strength diminished. So I sobbed.

A few minutes later, I felt my mother's arms wrap around me.

We left slowly, continuously looking back.

And in the distance, you could hear the clock tower strike 5:00.