Did I say that the chapters are not really in order? Well, now I have. Of course, I won't jump back and forth from childhood to adulthood, but it is only chronological for each character. For example, the story about Archie started with his parents' death, and soon it will go on in his journey of life. Also, I do admit that I didn't think that far in Handsome. I was more of thinking about a likely happening which I won't state to ruin the fun. Unfortunately, I think I will have to get up to that chapter in A Ski Trip to Remember first. And if anyone has been wondering, yes, Lyrea from ASTR (A Ski Trip to Remember) will be included.

Diagnosis

The white-washed walls probably used to be pure white, but now it was a dirty, almost-gray colour.

She sat, hunched in her seat, worried sick. No, not worried till she was sick - she wasn't the one who was sick. She didn't know the details and she didn't pretend to. All she knew it was something serious and that was it. Zip, zilch, nada. No one talked about it, not even her father.

She got up, feeling lonely. Tiptoeing helped as she peered through the glass window. The doctor nodded with much solemness to her father. Her father looked despondent and deflated. That was all she could see from the window, since all she was getting was their side views.

She decided that she would, instead, go to see her mother. Her mother was a brilliant woman of warmth and humour. She had never once been frail. Fallen sick, sure, but it wasn't something as big as this. Her father hadn't let on anything, but she could tell. She hated how her father could be so closed-up about this. Her mother, she knew, would have told her directly. She loved her father, too, but it was a different thing. She sensed it would be something big.

As she was walking down the hall, she stopped in her tracks. Her eyes widened. She reached out to grasp the wall, but she couldn't see or feel it. A blurred blue cloaked her vision. Suddenly, she saw her mother lying, pale, on a bed. She heard herself crying, and her father was gripping his wife's hand. It was surreal, nothing she had ever experienced before.

Just as suddenly as it had come, it went also. It left her panting with fear. It seemed like a dream, but she knew it couldn't have been. It had been so real and tangible. And most of all, it scared her.

"I'll ask Mom," she whispered to herself quietly. "She will understand."

Much instability and shakiness surrounded her as she walked quietly to the room. There, she peered into the door's small window. Despite explicit instructions not to disturb her mother, she still slunk in. The door was shut in a quiet manner.

"M-mom?"

Her mother was so thin now that she looked like, crudely put, a stick. Her bones were protruding; her face sagged. Still, her mother maintained that warmth disposure and perhaps fragile beauty that haloed her. Said mother cracked open her eyes tiredly.

"Theresa?" Her mother was a little on the surprised side to hear her daughter's voice.

Theresa smiled softly. She joined her mother, bouncing on the hospital bed. Her mother smiled too, and the lines that crinkled around her eyes looked like they were laughing along with her too.

The relief was unmistakable for Theresa. Just seeing her mother there brightened up her. "Mom, today, something happened."

"What happened?" Her mother curiously cocked an eyebrow.

Theresa bit her lip. "It was scary, at first. There was this thing that was just like a dream... And in this dream, I saw... I saw you, and Daddy and I were crying. It was... It was more like a vision."

Her mother's eyes widened considerably, and then her shoulders fell. It wasn't a big movement, but Theresa caught it all the same. Her mother quietly looked down, as though thinking over something. Then she raised her eyes up to her daughter.

"Theresa, I don't know how to tell you this... But this is the beginning of your visions."

Theresa blinked, confused. "What?"

Her mother sighed heavily. "This dream-like vision of yours is real. It is small snippets of the future... I don't know how to say this, but it's in my ancestry - your ancestry."

For a second, the look on her face hardened. Theresa would later come to realise that telling of her vision to her mother made her realise she didn't have a lot of time left.

"You're kidding, right, Mom?"

Her mother shook her head slowly. "No."

Theresa gaped. Then she nearly squealed in delight. "No way! I can predict the future! Betcha Daddy doesn't have anything as exciting as this!"

Her mother smiled serenely. "That's not true. You'd be surprised - your father's ancestry is much more interesting than you think."

"Really? What's that?" The puppy-dog look might work on a brown-haired leader a few ten years down the road, but unfortunately it didn't work on her mother.

"That's for me to know and you to find out. Even your father isn't aware of it." Her mother grinned. For a second, it felt like everything was back to normal. Then she sobered.

"Mom? What is it?" Theresa had noticed this change in her mother.

She saw the hesitation, and then her mother spoke. "Theresa... Lately I haven't been feeling too well. You know that, right? Has... Has Daddy told you about it?"

"About what, Mom?"

Her mother pressed her lips together. "Theresa, before I tell you, I want you to remember to stay strong after this."

Theresa bobbed her head.

"Theresa..." The hesitance, there, again. "I... I've been diagnosed with cancer."

All at once, the world came crashing down on her. Images of life without Mom struck her. The tears were starting to form in her eyes. But she knew it was just a joke - a bad joke, at that.

"Mom. Stop it, don't joke like that." She paused.

Then, it dawned on her that it was true.

Her mother, her beautiful, cheerful, hilarious mother, had cancer.

Even at her young age, she knew what it was. Cancer, a cruel disease that stole many lives away. Her heart sunk to the pits of her stomach, and it thudded from there. Time stood still for a while, the world going by her while she remained unmoving. Silence was, for a moment, defeaning, and it pounded in her ears. Perhaps it was her heartbeat, but she wasn't sure. She wasn't even sure if her heart was still beating.

"N-no. No! Mom, it can't be! No!" The horror was too evident in her voice; it made the dying woman wince.

"Yes, Theresa. I am sick." That sad smile was haunting. "The doctor says I've only six months left to live. Theresa, I'm going to die."

Theresa shook her head vigorously. "No. No! You'll... You'll make it. The doctor will cure you. Any doctor! They will. They can!"

Her mother shook her head again.

For the second time in the day, Theresa realised something.

N-no, it can't be! She screamed in her mind. Her vision came back to her - her crying, her father crying, that lifeless body belonging to her mother.

There's wasn't any more hope.

"I've been diagnosed with cancer."

The words rang true, aloud in her mind as the tears slid down, unnoticed. She rushed out of the room, wishing she could take it all away.

But she couldn't. She was angry with the world, angry with the disease, angry with her father, angry with her mother... And most of all...

Angry at herself.