Disclaimer: They aren't mine obviously.
A/N: Thanks for the reviews! And this one deals with difficult adult situations... or something, I dont know I feel like it needs its own disclaimer. So there you have it, you have been warned.Xyli
She hates her existence in its current state. She hates that she lives in a bed. She hates that no matter how hard she tries she can't seem to die. She hates that her memory is crystal clear while the visions in front of her tonight are as blurry as the fog that has pasted itself to a windowless night. She loathes that she is alive. She has made a point of hating everything in the last few years. Ten years ago she, Calliope Torres, hated very few people. And she was completely justified in hating the ones she did. Ten years ago she was an intern at Seattle Presbyterian. She was the only female in a man's club. They perused, prowled, aggravated, and pushed her until she almost broke. Shortly after finishing her stint there she transferred. It was an unfortunate accident and incidental lawsuit involving her and a co-worker but nonetheless one of them had to move on. He was subsequently let go from the program and banned from ever working as a doctor anywhere. She maintained, she stayed stable and strong, and got out alive with most of her dignity intact. She decided ten years ago not to rush around trying to find a man. And tonight as the never-ending chill sets into her body she wishes that she never would have met him. Wishes she hadn't been the ortho resident on-call when he fell down a flight of stairs. Wishes she hadn't spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to get him to call her. She should have known the whole thing was pointless. She should've known that her marriage would be the biggest waste of time her life would ever be graced enough to see. In retrospect, as she painfully tries to sit up, she should've done a lot of things differently. She should have let the whole thing disintegrate when she found out about his affair. But damn her pride and stubbornness, she fought for what she had legally claimed as hers. Ten years ago she would have ran as fast as her feet could carry her. She knew better, still does. She should be stronger than weeping alone tonight. He should have been weaker than leaving her home. She hates that he still goes to work and pretends like nothing is wrong. Everything is wrong she thinks as she tries to stifle the sobs from bringing the onset of a migraine. It doesn't help; they have become uncontrollable. Like everything else her body does now.
Ten years ago she was a control freak. Everything her way, no surprises. Tonight, as she wipes her tears and tries to not look at what she has become in the mirror hanging opposite their bed, she feels like cancer is the cruelest joke nature can play. This life. It picked her, it choose her long before she decided what she wanted. It was pre-determined she mutters as she attempts to shift her feet out from under the blankets that do little to shield her from the disease's icy blasts. If she would have known ten years ago what she would be like tonight she would have asked someone to just kill her then and there. Because tonight she has sent him away with the vague hope that when he returns from the store she will eat for the first time in days. Tonight she has it planned. Tonight she will do it her way. Tonight, as she slowly shuffles to kitchen, she will be in control of her life again. Ten years ago these thoughts that occupy every waking second in her mind would have been unimaginable. Selfish even. She would have never been contemplating the value of her own life. Ten years ago she wouldn't have literally sat with a pen and paper while her husband was at work, and attempted to scratch out a pro/con list on staying alive. Because who in their right mind does that? She wishes right now that she didn't need him as badly as she does. She wishes that she could be self-sufficient like she was ten years ago. And that is how tonight, dumping out the bottle of pain medication onto the table, has become her reality. As she stares down at the tiny blue pills scattered everywhere in front of her she contemplates leaving a suicide note. But she can't think of anything to say in it that everyone doesn't already know. Cancer should have taken her months ago and instead it has let her linger somewhere above the depths of an unknown hell for utterly too long. As she begins to feel the smooth diminutive pills slide down her throat she hopes he will understand. As she swallows a few more she hopes he will feel relieved. Finally after what feels like an eternity they start to take effect. And as she finally begins to feel the pain lift from her body once and for all she hopes that maybe he can go back to living like he did ten years ago.