A/N: Here's the 'first' chapter. It might be confusing to begin with but it should make sense as you read it. Enjoy! x
Warning: Could contain offensive material. It is not intentional.
Etro's Expiation - 1
I opened my eyes and found myself staring at the ceiling, it looked so familiar yet foreign at the same time. I was just glad to be in my own room, I think I cared more about not being in a hospital than still being alive. Taking in a deep breath, I slowly released it while I just stayed on my back, laying there and waiting for a bit, before finally summoning the courage to get out of my bed. What I wanted to do was crawl back under the covers, rest in the foetal position and fall back asleep, but I couldn't. It was always a good sign in the morning when I awoke and today would be like any other weekday, if I were to live through it.
A doctor had told me that I would be lucky to live for a year, and that was six months ago. For as long as I can remember I suffered from thunderclap headaches. When the doctor had told me the name of my painful and intense migraines, I laughed. Thunderclap? Really? The next time there had been a thunderstorm I finally realised the true meaning of such a name. It became a routine to hide when I felt the pain start in my head, all because I didn't want to go to the tall building that was white and smelt funny. I had the same reaction when it started to rain, I find myself rushing to my bed and hiding. I have become fearful of a simple meteorological phenomenon and all because I suffer from headaches.
During one of my nastier headaches I had passed out and was sent to the hospital, it was there that I was told of my true illness. I had glioma. It was a tumour, located in my brain. My ignorance led to the clutter of cells being undetected until then. The tumour was at a point that any treatment wouldn't guarantee a recovery. I didn't want any treatment. It was probably selfish and slightly vain of me to think that. The thought of losing my hair was more horrible to me than a certain death. What if I went through all that suffering just to come to the same conclusion in the end? I didn't want to risk it and I also didn't want to take the chance.
I remember the sombre look the doctor gave me as he told me my fate. At the time I didn't react, I was numb and it truly didn't sink in that I had a death sentence. As time progressed I found myself going through four out of five stages that people go through after finding out they have a terminal illness. There was denial and isolation, anger, depression, and acceptance. Normally the third one was bargaining, but I wasn't stupid. I knew there was nothing in my power or control that could prevent me from dying. Miracles didn't happen to those who don't want them.
It had been one day after the terrible numbing news I received and I went straight to school, carrying on with my normal schedule. Nothing was wrong with me and if I acted like it, it would be true. The few friends I had, I stayed away from. Every time they nagged, I ignored them. Every question of my well-being that was asked, I gave them all the same reply. 'Nothing is wrong, I am fine.' I didn't know whether I was saying it to convince them or to convince myself. Soon they gave up and believed me. I was happy being alone and I too started believing that everything would be okay.
The loneliness got to me after a few weeks. I found myself thinking thoughts I really didn't want to hear. I kept myself busy, immersed myself in schoolwork and housework, but I still kept to myself. The only good to come out of it all was my grades had improved and I had a cleaner house to come home too. It wasn't enough to keep the underlining thoughts away. The truth wanted to show its ugly face to me and have me accept it for what it was. I wasn't going to give in, not yet.
Two months after finding out the news, there were noticeable changes to my mood. One tiny thing could set me off and I felt like I had no control over it. In class the guy sitting at the desk beside me started flicking his pen against the wood. Tap, tap, tap…tap. It wouldn't stop and was doing my head in, one way to trigger an unwanted headache. My outburst surprised the whole class. Everyone looked at me as if I was crazy. I was told by our teacher to wait outside, but at least the guy wasn't holding his pen anymore. I was blaming anything and everything for what had happened to me.
It wasn't my fault. I was innocent to all of this. I noticed that my former friends started ignoring me altogether, pretending to not know me. That was fine, I deserved it. I had stopped wanting to be alone but I found myself lonely anyway, all because of my earlier actions. Now people were scared to come near me. I was always sending glares to those who were starting to annoy me. The way they stopped surprised me, I was sure some would try and test my boundaries, see just how far I would go.
Another two months and my temper hadn't improved. I was drying the dishes and putting them away. One of the bigger plates fell from my grip smashing on the floor and I just stared at the mess on the ground while motionless. If someone had been looking at me, if they were observant, I'm sure they would've seen that for a split second my eyes were devoid of any emotion. It got to the point where I had expected myself to lash out, kick a cupboard, and maybe smash another plate, this time on purpose.
Instead I fell to the floor, the sharp pieces of porcelain cut into my knees and hands as I held myself up. I saw my tears splash onto the floor before I had even realised I was crying. My body shook as I sobbed loudly. I was going to die in less than a year and I was feeling sorry for myself. I didn't deserve this, no one did. Yet here I was, suffering, in this situation. I stayed home, in my room, for a whole week. I wasn't ready to face anyone like this. School ended up being a blur. I would arrive as a corpse and leave as one. When I got home, my eyes were leaking and I had to rush and get the tissues which were beside my bed.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror, brushing the long dark blue tresses that fell from my head. I had finally accepted my fate a week ago. I was going to die and there was nothing I could do about it. Although the doctor suggested I go through various therapies to try and fight the tumour, I found it pointless. The only certainty I was given was my death. The time it took for me to die was the only variable that could change, whether I went along with the doctor's ideas or not.
My green eyes blinked a few times, flicking away the few tears that would appear during this time of the morning. It still saddened me, but I was okay with this sadness. I had become social again at school, no longer thought of as a freak. That didn't stop some students taking a wide berth when nearing me. I have one friend now, Noel. He was in his last year of school while I was in my second. I haven't told him anything. I could just imagine his looks of pity and sympathy. He already concerns himself over everything I do and I can imagine it would just get worse. I was beyond that and didn't need it, so I stayed silent. I acted as if everything was fine.
I tried to smile, lips curved upwards, but the corners always managed to even out. I tried for a second time but still nothing that stayed. The smile I would've worn looked like it was forced anyway. A sneer easily crossed over my face as I stared at my school uniform in the reflection. Short skirt, check. White top that would become see-through when it started raining, check. A laugh filled the air and I was able to smile, remember a conversation I had with Noel, back when I first met him. He adamantly defended the school's choice of female uniform, saying that it helps accentuate the best parts of the body which apparently helps the male population of the school to strive to achieve more. Though he didn't elaborate, I was pretty sure he wasn't talking about achieving better grades.
I looked outside and saw the darkening clouds above, a sure sign it would rain, just what I needed. Searching the room for my school jacket, I found it in the laundry basket, dirty from the previous week. The thought of wearing it made me grimace, how did I miss it when I washed the rest of my uniform over the weekend? I checked the time and there just wasn't enough left. Quickly finding my umbrella I made a dash out the front door. Breakfast could wait until lunch. I had glioma, so hunger was the least of my worries.
Valhalla was a peaceful city, home to a couple thousand residents. The weather patterns were so unpredictable that the news stopped broadcasting the ending weather section altogether. Oerba High was the only high school in the city and luckily it was so close to me I could walk the distance without getting sore feet. The teachers there are always getting students to work hard for their futures, but what about those with no future? Those like me? I pretend to have dreams, that way no one asks questions. In reality, my dreams are meaningless.
The air was cold, but I didn't have time to complain when I saw Noel waiting for me at the front gates. I tried to contain the shivers that were threatening to take over me. It didn't work in my favour that we were just standing outside. Not only did my body start to quiver but my stomach grumbled with lack of food. Noel looked over to me and laughed, but as soon as I glared at him, he stopped holding his hands up as if surrendering.
"What happened to your jacket? Can't you see it's going to rain any time now?"
"I couldn't find it." We hadn't been friends for long, so I was able to lie to him easily. I was also embarrassed for forgetting to wash it. "You always insist I meet you here early, so you can't blame me for not having enough time."
It was warmer when they made it inside the building. The halls were empty, with only a few teachers passing by. Hardly any students came to school this early, always waiting till the last minute before arriving to class. We were going to the library, where hopefully they had the heaters going. The large room was filled with tables and chairs, majority of the walls were lined with books and there were a few book-filled shelves near the back. Everything was categorised and kept orderly, something usually expected but hard to do.
Noel began taking off his jacket as they sat down at one of the secluded table at the back. "Here, I think you have more use for it than me."
"Thank you." I gave him a small smile and accepted the jacket, placing my arms through it.
I had to push up the sleeves because they were too long and covered my hands. I welcomed the warmth it gave me. For everyone it was easy to forget the simple things, they were taken for granted. Even with my condition, I found myself doing the same, old habits die hard. Thunder was heard rumbling outside, masking the way my stomach made a similar noise again. Why did I choose to not have dinner last night? I shivered again and Noel had mistaken it to be because I might still have been cold. He decided to sit next to me and I blushed lightly at the closeness.
"When was the last time you ate?" He placed his bag on the table and even though food was forbidden in the library, he took out a sandwich.
"I'm not hungry." Of course my stomach decided to tell him otherwise. I shook my head at his offering. "I don't want it, I can wait until lunch."
His blue eyes searched mine, looking for something while being concerned at the same time. He didn't even know everything about me and he still felt like it was his job to look after me. I broke the eye contact and found my fingernails much more interesting to look at. Noel sighed deeply and it sounded like he was putting everything away. He got up and went over to one of the bookshelves, seemingly giving up. Oh how wrong I was. With a book in his hand, he came back over and slid it across the table under my eyesight.
Dealing with Anorexia. I actually laughed and this surprised him. "Noel, I'm not anorexic."
"Well I don't think you are eating properly. No one chooses to wait for food." He refused to take the book as I tried to give it back to him.
I got up and went over to the bookshelves. Looking at all the titles, but I couldn't find any that would get a point across and also have some humour in it. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Noel staring, almost analysing my actions. I was about to give up when one book caught my eye at the very bottom, bending down, I picked it up with a small smirk on my features.
"This is the book you should've given me instead." I handed it to him and laughed at his confused expression. Two times in less than ten minutes, it had to be a record.
"Coping with Overbearing Parents. Yeul, are you trying to tell me your parents are controlling?" The worry in his voice was etched so far in his face, it was sure to leave permanent wrinkles.
I shook my head. "No, it's for you."
Noel grunted, dismissing the idea entirely. As he chucked the book on the table, the warning bell sounded, telling us that we had to get to class. I said a farewell to him and promised to give his jacket back at lunch. He made a promise to make me eat at lunch, still thinking I had a problem. How would he react if he knew the truth? The first few classes went by smoothly and true to our words, we went through with our promises. The rest of the day passed quickly and soon the final bell rang and I was out of school.
The dark clouds were still looming with the threat of rain. I had to try and not jump at the sound of thunder that crashed above me. My eyes were on the ground and I was walking as fast as my legs could carry me. I wanted to get home and hide in my bed under the covers. This whole day had been torture, not only because I had to sit through boring classes but the thunder was continuous. It wouldn't stop. If tomorrow was anything like today, I would be skipping it.
I was sprawled on the ground before I realised I had bumped into someone. I could only see their black boots, which looked menacing, so I didn't want to look up and see who was towering over me. A calloused hand came in front of my vision and as soon as I touched it, I jumped back screaming. My hands held onto my head as pain radiated through it, of all the times to get a headache, it had to be now. I assumed the person I had bumped into was a man and was sure he would've been looking at me strangely.
"Are you okay?" He had a deep voice and alarm was laced within it.
I just shook my head, unable to speak, slowly feeling myself lose consciousness. I did not want this, not now, not out in the open. I tried to get up, unaware that the man was now on his knees supporting me. I finally looked at him and all I saw was purple before my eyes rolled into the back of my head. Pain was always more bearable when blacked-out.