Just A Quick Hello

A/N: I know S.E. Hinton intended this story to be set in the 1960s, but for the sake of the
story's purpose...it now takes place in the early 1980s. Also...no one has died.





There's really no one that I can blame for this. As much as I've tried, and believe me I have. Maybe it could be blamed on the media. Hell, I could blame just about anything I could think of, even myself. If I hadn't started that fight with the Soc, if he didn't have his blade, if the fucking hospital people hadn't have been so stupid. There's a lot of ifs in this. A whole lot of them...
It's time for your three o'clock medications
It's that busty blonde nurse again. The one that I would've had in my bed a few months ago.
Instead now all I can do is struggle to sit up and accept the small paper cup she hands up.
She watches me as I swallow the small pills. What...does she think I'm going to hide them? I don't know why they give me this crap. They told me nothing could be done. And another thing...I may be a hood, but I know I'm their fucking guinea pig.
I mutter and sink back down onto the pillows. Pathetically, I don't even have the strength to sit up for more than a few minutes.
I'll be back in twenty minutes to check on you
Is that a promise or a threat? With nurses you can never tell. She leaves me alone again, ass swinging on her way out.
Does she know she's doing it? Or does she enjoy torturing young, dying guys?
You said it I muttered to myself in disbelief. Everyone else has always avoided the word.
Dead, death, dying I whispered.
Hey...if no one else will say it, I might as well. I know they won't say it either, at least not to my face. The doctors have said it. They tell me everyday. Something about me coming to terms with my reality or some shit like that. I can take anything, I'm tough. When you lived my lifestyle you had to be or you would end up dead somewhere. Now, instead of dying somewhere with glory. I have to die small and alone in my hospital bed. Did I also mention Im scared? Who would've thought that a stupid disease could scare me? It does though...more than anything has in all my life.
I will never make it to my twentieth birthday. I will never get married and have kids or any of that other crap you're supposed to do.
Because...like I've said, I'm dying. I want to tell you all about it. At least as much as I can. Nowadays, not even the doctors can give me an exact time. They said anywhere from a week or so to several months. If they can't save me the least they could do is tell me when I'm gonna die. I'm too tired for this now.



Ok...can anyone guess what's wrong and who it is?
I know...short, but that's what prologues are for.
Fy