I don't know what I want anymore.
But I've only got a week to make a decision before that decision is made for me.
Dan gets up and leaves after a while and I trail him, curious to see where he goes next. Where he goes next surprises me in one way but it doesn't in another.
He goes to the building where we first met.
I follow him up the winding steps and onto the roof. It's windy out but it's not cold. He goes and sits down on the edge and I sit next to him. He doesn't speak; he just looks out to the horizon. Thinking.
'Do it' I hear him whisper. What? 'Come on Dan. Just go'. I scream at him, even though I know he can't hear me. No one can.
Don't do it Dan I beg.
'No. Wait for Liz' he then contradicts himself. I sigh in relief, because he's still got hope. He pulls off his navy blue sweatshirt and stares at his arms. I do too.
I gasp in horror. Gone were his clean arms and bloody, scarred arms were in their absence. Why Dan? Why? You know it doesn't do any good in the long run. Look what happened to me. I hear him sigh as he looks at his bloody arms and for a moment, I think he was going to cry. But he doesn't, he holds back and swallows the lump in his throat. I know what he's thinking; crying won't help bring her back.
Dan stays there for a few minutes longer before standing up and walking back down the stairs. I walk with him, listening to the sound of his feet thudding against the metal underfoot. Dan then goes home and slips into his house, unnoticed. Just like how I was. He goes upstairs to his room and lies on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
Phil comes in after a while and he slightly rolls his eyes when he sees Dan.
'Y'know, Liz wouldn't want you to be like this' he says, staring hard at him.
'I know but I can't help myself' he replies; still staring at the ceiling. 'Her mum said that she would turn the life support off in a week if Liz doesn't wake up by then' he suddenly announces.
Phil's mouth drops open. '…Shit…'
'She won't wake up, will she?' Dan asks softly.
'I don't know Dan. I really don't know' Phil replies.
I can't be here any longer, it's too hard watching Dan fall to pieces. So, for the first time, I go home.
My mum's sitting in the living room, beer bottles scattered around. She's staring at the TV even though it's not on. A tear falls out of her eye and she wipes it with the back of her hand. Matt comes in then and sees her sitting on the sofa and joins her.
He puts his arm around her and she lays her neck on his shoulder. 'I'm a shit parent, aren't I?' she says.
'No you're not Sarah. You can't blame yourself' he replies.
But I know she does. I know she blames herself for not raising me stronger. She blames herself for not being there for me, when I needed her most. She blames herself for not raising me better. She thinks it's her fault that I ended up this way.
'I should have realised what was going on. But when I did, it was too late' she says hoarsely, the tears now running furiously down her cheeks.
'It's never too late' Matt says to her, kissing her forehead. 'There's still hope for Liz'.
Watching my mum slowly fall apart is more difficult than watching Dan do the same. I can't stand to be here anymore so I go back to the hospital.
The hospital's just as bad to be honest. I go to the children's hospice. I see children lying in bed, parents sitting by their sides. Both are crying. I see children watching TV, playing games, interacting with others. Enjoying their life before it has to come to an end.
I go to one room where a girl is lying down, eyes closed. She looks to be about 14-15. I read her card: Laura Reynolds, 15, Leukaemia. She looks so peaceful, lying there. All of a sudden, the machines start to beep like crazy. Two doctors, one male and one female, suddenly rush into the room along with a nurse. The male doctor frantically pushes at her chest, the nurse at the machine, the other doctor attaching an oxygen mask to her face.
'Come on. Come on. COME ON' the male doctor shouts, his eyes glistening.
Then there's a long beep. Then nothing. Silence.
The nurse moves away from the machine and stands by Laura's head. The female doctor gently lifts the mask off her face. And male doctor lifts the equipment off the 15 year old's body.
'She's gone' the nurse says sadly. Neither doctor utters a sound. But their tears speak a thousand words.
Without a word, they pack up and exit after the nurse lifts a sheet over the girl's body, covering her. And then they leave, just like that.
I stand there for a little while, incapable of moving. That's when I start to cry. Her life ended and she had no choice in the matter. No choice whatsoever. The decision was made for her and she had to accept it.
I leave then and find the male doctor standing with a middle-aged couple. The girl's parents I guess. I wonder over and stand by the doctor's side while he prepares to tell them the news. News that will change their lives forever.
'Mr and Mrs Reynolds' he starts before he has to compose himself. This isn't easy for him either. Telling them that their child had died and he couldn't save her. 'I'm so sorry to tell you that Laura sadly passed away a few minutes ago. We did everything we could but it was too late. I'm so sorry' he manages to say before the tears run down his face.
Laura's mother screams and falls to the ground. All the father can do is just stare at the doctor.
'No' he whispers. 'She…She…She can't be…Dead' he chokes out.
The doctor nods gravely. 'I'm so sorry but she is. I'll give you a moment' he says, excusing himself. Laura's mum is still on the floor, sobbing. Her dad bends down and picks her up, supporting her weight. Together, they walk over to some seats in the corner and sit down. They don't speak a single word but they cry.
I know what they're thinking – our precious baby girl. She's gone. Forever. She won't be coming back. We'll never see her again. We'll never hug her. We'll never kiss her, see her smile, and see her laugh. And my heart breaks for them.
Is that what it would be like if I decide to go? Would my mum be in that much grief? Would Dan?
Then I think about Laura and every other person with a terminal illness. How much they would give to be able to live and to not die.
I suddenly feel selfish, knowing that I have the choice when millions of other people don't. Their choice was made for them but mine hasn't been. Yet.
But I still haven't decided. However, time is running out. Fast.
