I am a fighter
And I aint gonna stop
There is no turning back...
...I've had enough.
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I knew I was going to regret it, so why I kept advancing further towards the old Victorian building I don't know. With each step I took, I willed myself to take two back. But my body, tired of being filled up with this fucking disease resisted my mind's willpower and forced itself to carry on walking.
The encounter with Potter a couple of days ago had taken a lot out of me. I'd managed to stagger to my room after he'd left and collapse on my bed. For five hours, I just lay there, unable to do anything, my muscles seized up and my joints pulsating with pain. I then heaved myself up to take a bath where I lay for another two hours soothing my aching bones.
Not that anybody hadn't noticed my sluggishness lately. At first I thought that Pansy, the over perceptive bitch had babbled our little argument around the school by the way everyone was constantly asking me if I was okay. I was so fucking tired of everyone asking the same questions over and over again.
"Are you okay?"
No.
"You don't look very well."
I know.
"Are you getting enough rest?"
No.
"You look really sick."
I know.
Okay, so I did look ill. As much as I hated to admit it, the illness was starting to take it's toll on the outside of my body as well as in. I knew I didn't look healthy. Even I could see that my eyes had sunken into my face as I stared at myself in the mirror through hollow silver spheres. They looked soulful and expressive. These emotions were something I was taught to abolish a long time ago, they were weak, too much of a giveaway. But right now, there was nothing I could do to stop myself looking fragile and powerless. I was fragile and powerless.
The turning point came when I'd awoken after the first eventful nights sleep in weeks to find my body covered almost head to toe in bruises. I bruised so fucking easily these days. That's when I realised something, something that had already briefly flashed in my mind a number of times previously, before I'd killed off the thoughts just as soon as they had appeared.
I was frightened.
I didn't even remember that I wasn't supposed to be frightened as I sobbed desperately, clutching onto my bed sheets for support and wrapping them around me in a hug-like manner. I looked around my bedroom wildly, hoping that someone would help me to get rid of this fucking thing growing inside of me. I just needed someone to tell me it was going to be alright, to help me out. So the next morning, without telling anyone where I was going, I went to see that person.
It was raining heavily when I arrived so I was almost glad when I walked into the Victorian building and smelt the same hospital odour I had smelt the last time I had come here. It was less busy than before, though still bustling with people who queued patiently in line to see the receptionist. I, on the other hand, didn't have time for this shit. My life was far more important than any muggle's was worth.
"Excuse me," I said pushing my way to the front of the queue. Nobody protested. They were too weak to argue. When I reached the receptionist she narrowed her eyes.
"There is a queue back there young man," she said sharply. She wasn't the same one I had spoken to last time, so I put on my best Malfoy manners to charm her.
"This is an emergency," I pleaded, a small whine coming into my voice. "I have leukaemia."
She didn't seem impressed. "I am afraid, sir, that leukaemia is not considered a medical emergency. You seem to be in fit health at the moment to be able to jostle your way to the front of the queue, so I daresay you are healthy enough to actually wait in line."
A quick and temporary memory loss spell changed her mind.
"Hello again, Mr. Malfoy," the doctor said, shaking my hand warmly as I stepped into his office. I was a bit taken aback.
"You remember me?" I asked in an astonished tone.
"Yes, you were quite memorable," he smiled. I didn't know what he meant by that so I let it drop.
"Well, I'm just here because …" and then I stopped. What was I meant to say? I needed help. I needed him to tell me that everything was going to be alright, that I was going to get through this. But why was I turning to him for? I didn't even know him. I already knew that he couldn't give me a definitive cure because he had told me last time I came. But surely there was something he could do.
I suddenly felt the familiar rise of burning twisted venom rising up inside of me as my emotions started to surface. My Malfoy name roared and raged spitefully and I could feel it replacing the words I really wanted to say. It happened with Granger, it happened with Potter and now it was going to ruin my one last hope and happen again.
"I'm here because," I managed to stammer out slowly.
I need help.
"I think."
I need help.
"That I."
I need help I need help I need help.
And it was on the tip of my tongue. And try as it might I could not let my family pride get in the way of this. Yes, I was asking for help from a muggle. It was embarrassing and humiliating and the very antithesis of what I'd been taught to do but I didn't fucking care. I just wanted help and I wasn't going to blow it. Not this time.
"Do you need help?" The doctor spoke carefully, gently and kindly.
Yes.
"If you need help," he continued to press softly, "It is always available to you."
I need help.
"There are programs and groups you can join, to meet others like you. Leaflets available -"
Yes, I need help.
"- That give you details on how it's best to fight the illness. Medications are made available to you." He stopped at this and a stern look came over his face.
Shit, he's going to ruin it.
"I seem to remember that you didn't take up any medication, Draco."
Actually, I'm the one who's going to ruin it.
"Was there a reason for that?"
Please Draco, just hold it in, for your own sake, bite your tongue.
"You should have spoken to reception on the way out but your records show that you didn't even book a further appointment."
Hold it in, please.
"You were lucky to get another one at this quick notice."
Please, just hold it in.
"Don't you think you owe it to yourself?"
Hold it in.
"Just to at least try the medication out?"
Hold it, hold it, hold it.
I opened my mouth, unsure of what I was going to say, before I sank back into my seat, poised very carefully with my arms folded back in a casual manner. He didn't say anything but silently analysed my cool demeanour.
"No." The word was alone, powerful and cold.
A flicker of questionability ran across his face for a split second. "No?"
"No." The word still held its effectiveness. I hated it for denying me of my truth.
He nodded, lost in apparent thought. "Okay," he said, sinking back into his seat.
I blinked, thinking I must have misheard him. "You what?" I asked dubiously, unfolding my arms and leaning closer towards him.
He chewed on a pen, almost absentmindedly. This blatant attempt at reverse psychology would have angered me had I not been so genuinely intrigued. "I said, okay," he repeated casually. He even had the audacity to give me a little shrug. Did he really think I was that fucking stupid to fall for this crap?
"So… that's okay?" I asked slowly. I didn't want to fall into his trap by getting angry.
He nodded. "Yep."
I gave a little satisfied nod. "Right then." I stood up importantly, trying not to wince from the sudden stiffness change in my lower back region. "That's settled."
He still maintained his coolness. "It's settled."
I walked over to the door and put my hand on the knob. And at that moment I hesitated. Who knows how different things would have turned out if I hadn't hesitated. I could have marched out, back to Hogwarts and lived life on a completely different path. But I hesitated. I turned to look back at his faux casualness and scowled.
"You know, I know what your game is," I spat. "You're just trying to use reverse psychology on me so I take up your stupid medication."
He didn't even bother to stifle a small yawn. "Am I?"
"Yes!" I cried. "It won't work, you know. I don't fall for that kind of shit. I don't want to take the stupid medication, okay?"
He didn't even bother to reply this time, giving me the smallest of dismissive nods instead.
"I mean, why should I want to take anything to make me better anyway?" I said, pacing around his office. "I mean, I'm going to fucking die anyway, right? Why drag it out?" I paused. "You know I can actually feel it inside of me?" I looked over at the doctor, who leaned forward and looked at me enquiringly.
"Oh yeah," I continued, "I can feel it in me. Sometimes, I just lie on the floor, and visualise it swirling around my body, mixing its toxic self within my blood. And I just stop breathing. To see what would happen. To see if somehow it could be fooled, to see if it would be fooled into thinking that I'm dead and it has no purpose anymore so it can leave, but of course that never works does it?" I gave a jaunty laugh even though tears were leaking out of my eyes.
"And you know sometimes," I continued, my voice rising louder and shriller, "I'm in the bath and I let the water wash over my ears, you know, so that all sounds feel numb inside my eardrums, and I can hear my heartbeat drumming away. And you know what I really wish? I wish that I could reach in and fucking rip out my heart because every time it pumps its making this thing fucking stronger."
I was crying hard now and the office became a blur, but I didn't care. I'd had this bottled up for too long inside of me and I needed to let it out. He wasn't a muggle and I wasn't Draco anymore. We were just two people, one of whom I needed to confide my innermost thoughts to. I collapsed into the chair.
"And it got me thinking. Why should I fucking fight something that's going to kill me anyway, huh? Why bother? There's nothing I can do about it, so why not lie down and let it take me like this, while I'm still me. Look at me doctor. LOOK AT ME. I'm fucking wasting away to nothing. I'm going to just …" I howled uncontrollably and felt a hand rub my shoulder soothingly. I squeezed my eyes tighter, letting more tears fall down my face. I didn't want to see this situation.
"I'm going to die," I continued through bawls. "I'm going to die and its inevitable and it's going to happen and prolonging it will turn me into something I'm not so why should I fucking do it?" I let the words tumble out of my mouth. There was a long exposed silence after this, and I squeezed my eyes together even harder, not wanting to face the scene. The broken sounds of nothingness were constantly interrupted by my increasing subdued sniffs and the rubbing of fabric on my clothes as the doctor continued to squeeze my shoulder relaxingly.
"It is an option." His words were devoid of any emotion and I thanked him silently for it. "I'm not going to lie to you, it is an option should you wish to take it. Medication is more preferable of course, but it is ultimately your decision."
I dared to open my eyes at the same time his hand trailed from my shoulder as he walked around his desk and sat back down in his chair opposite me. I noticed his eyes were meeting mine squarely.
"But I do urge you to give this decision a long think," he said slightly earnestly. "It is not a decision you should make alone either. I assume your guardians know about the situation?"
No.
"Yes."
He believed me. "Good, perhaps a meeting with them, with you present of course, will help matters. Maybe stop by reception and book another appointment, hmm?"
I nodded dully. "Okay."
His graveness broke into a small smile as he leaned over the desk and shook my hand again warmly.
"Thank you," I said in the realest tone I could muster.
I walked out of the office and came face to face with a ball hurtling at turbo speed towards my face. My quick reflexes snapped into action and I caught it before it took my head off. I had the strangest sense of déjà vu.
A little girl with a black shoulder length bob giggled mischievously as she walked over to me with outstretched arms. "That's the second time," she smirked. I considered bouncing the ball off her fucking head.
"Second time?" I asked sharply.
"Yeah," she said, the annoying grin still plastered onto her face. "You came in before and I did the same thing then. Remember? And then my brother was saying sorry to you?"
I did remember her cute brother. But she looked like unfamiliar.
"You might not remember though," she said, walking directly up to me and taking the ball from my hands. "You seemed pretty upset when you left. You were crying."
"I was not," I snapped.
She wasn't smiling anymore. "It's okay for boys to cry," she said solemnly. "Mom says boys that cry are usually very brave."
"Well Malfoy's don't cry," I muttered bitterly.
"Huh?"
"Nothing." I hadn't meant to say that aloud. She seemed to have got bored of me anyway and now concentrated on throwing her ball in the air and catching it. I watched her, transfixed by something I wasn't sure of. Maybe it was the sense of familiarity yet the way she looked like a totally different person was what intrigued me. I wasn't aware that she was aware that I was staring until she was standing inches away from me.
"What?" she asked, giving me a strange look.
"N-nothing," I said, breaking my gaze.
"N-n-nothing," she mimicked me. I gave her a sour look. Why the fuck was I letting a seven-year-old get the better of me? As she continued to play with her ball, it dawned on me what looked so different about her.
"You have hair." I felt so stupid as she turned around to face me blankly.
"I mean, you have, well, when I saw you before, you didn't have any…" My voice trailed off. Luckily her face broke into a bright smile.
"Yeah, well the chemotherapy effects are taking a break at the moment," she said beamingly.
"Chemotherapy?"
"Yep."
"I've heard of that word before."
Her face screwed up into confusion. "Don't you see Dr. Warner?"
I shrugged.
"The doctor in that office?" She pointed at the door I had walked out of.
"Yeah," I said.
"Well then, why wouldn't you have heard the word chemotherapy before?" she asked with emphasised obviousness.
"What?" I asked, genuinely confused with the whole situation.
She sighed patiently. "You've got leukaemia, right?" Fuck, was this kid psychic? When I didn't answer, she lost her cocky attitude. "You have, right? He's the leukaemia doctor. Everyone with it goes to see him."
My jaw felt like a ten ton weight as I struggled to stop my mouth from hanging open in shock. "Do… you…" my voice trailed off. She nodded.
"Yep. For about eight months now, I think," she said, counting on her fingers. "Yep," she affirmed with a bright smile, "eight months."
"But you're…" I was letting a lot of sentences trail in this conversation but I couldn't help it. I was sincerely amazed. "So healthy," I concluded. She tried not to look pleased but it was obvious that she was proud of herself.
"I'm fighting it," she said with a hint of pride in her voice. "I'm not going to let it beat me."
I was in awe over her attitude. "But aren't you scared?" I asked quietly.
She screwed up her face for a second, lost in deep thought. "I suppose I am," she said finally, nodding slowly. "But the way I see it is there are two ways to deal with the situation I'm faced in. I can fight it or not fight it. And I'd rather fight than quit, you know?"
"I know," I nodded. "You're clever for a little kid," I couldn't help add. She bristled indignantly.
"I'm not a little kid, I'm nine!"
I let out a low whistle. "Wow, that's almost grown up," I said with a grin.
She smiled proudly. "How old are you?" she asked.
"Seventeen," I replied.
She was impressed. "You're are a grown up." She said the word grown-up like it held some sort of magic power. "Same as Jake."
"Jake?"
"Jake. My brother. You saw him before," she said.
Oh, I saw him all right.
"Oh yeah, right. I remember. Is he… er, here?" I felt a sudden pang of guilt, asking this kid where her hot older brother was, but she remained oblivious to my ulterior motive as she shook her head.
"No, it's just me and mom here today. Jake's at college. I'm going to go to college. I'm going to study science so I can become a doctor. You have to go to college if you want to do that," she said wisely.
I felt my throat dry up and tears threatening to well in my eyes as I pictured this little kid's false hopes of dreams that could never come true. Damn this fucking disease, it's so fucking unfair.
"My moms in the office. She's not seeing Dr. Warner today. She's talking to Dr. Bishop." She lowered her voice. "He's a really, really important doctor."
On cue, her mom left the office shaking Dr. Bishop's hand softly. I caught a flash of her red-rimmed eyes before she lowered her head and rummaged through her handbag distractedly. When she revealed her face again a huge artificial smile was plastered onto her face. She locked eyes with me and I felt a knife stab me in the heart. I gave her a watery smile and she returned it. The knife shredded my heart to bits.
"Are you ready to go Katy?" her mom asked.
"Mom," she whined with a pained expression on her face and pointing at me. "I was going to play basketball with him." Her mother threw me an apologetic smile. I returned it with a genuine one.
"I'll play basketball with you next time I see you," I said turning to Katy, kneeling down on one knee so I was level with her.
She thrust out her lower lip. "Promise?"
I nodded solemnly. "I promise." I stuck out a hand. "I'm Draco."
She shook it, casting looks at her mother to see if she was watching how she was participating in a 'grown-up' hand-shaking gesture. "I'm Katy," she said.
She let go of my hand suddenly and let her ball drop to the ground as she rushed at me and hugged me around the neck tightly. I was caught off guard and didn't know what to do, before I felt my arms slowly raise on their own accord and pat her on the back lightly. A sudden sense of emotion I couldn't quite place rushed over me and I found myself squeezing her back with as much affection before she broke away.
She picked up her ball and ran to her mother. "See you later," she called gaily, giving me a wave. Her mom gave me a quick wave too. I waved back numbly. To her, this was an offhand gesture. To me, this was a breakthrough. I'd felt something. I actually felt something with that little kid. That one conversation that we had had opened up my eyes to a new perspective completely. She'd turned around my opinion of everything I thought I had believed in and replaced it with new found confidence.
I got up off the floor and walked over to Dr. Warner's office with shaking legs. I knocked on the door softly, before opening it and poking my head around the corner.
"I just er…" I began, but he stopped me with a smile.
"You came for these?" he asked knowingly, producing a tube. I didn't need to ask what they were, nor reply to his answer as I took them from him with a nod and a smile.
Walking out of the building, I stepped into glorious sunshine which had dominated and beaten the heavy rain into submission. I let out a sudden laugh. I felt happy. I knew this wasn't it and I knew I had a long way to go. But right now, I was happy.
I smiled and was blissfully surprised when I realised that it didn't hurt to do so.
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Thank you for reading this chapter. Although it took a while to upload, this was actually the quickest and easiest to write, even though I thought it would be the total opposite. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it and please leave reviews. Love you all! Take care, love Jords x