My body feels week in my father's arms. Almost limp. I can't speak, i can't move. Hell, i can barely breath. I think to myself, with the little bit of consciousness I have left, if i were to die right here, right now, would it be what i wanted? Even after Gus, would i still think things would be better if i died? right here? right now? my entire life I've had the cliche dream of falling in love, getting married, having my own home. Kids maybe. Now even if i made it out of this, i still wouldn't get that. I will never get that. My life will never be perfect. Never what i wanted, just a few memories of the best thing that ever happened. The best thing that will ever happen. Just as i decide that the longing for the sweet, gorgeous face I've missed is needed right now, i see my mother, shes crying. She's in my father's arms. He's crying too. I realize now how just like Gus, there are people here who will be so mad. Who will mourn me for months. My parents will cry themselves too sleep for years maybe. I can't do that, not now. I don't want to ever. I don't want this. I need too see their faces. Just to know that they'll be alright. Just for another day. A week maybe. Just not yet. This is too soon.

My eyes flutter open.

My mind slowly wakes up.

I am alive.

That is more that what i could ask for.

More then Gus could have.

"Sweetie" my mom looks at my face and strokes my cheek in a way that makes my feel at home. eyes are bloodshot with tears, voice muffled. "mommy" I casually would never say that. But if their is ever a time for a teenage girl to call their mom that, this is definitely it. "shh... quite, you need rest." she strokes my hair and leans back in her chair. "what time is it?" I mumble. "2:46 AM" my father utters from his chair. "goodnight." and i fell asleep the way you fall in love. slowly, then all at once.

"We are sending her home."

"What?! Look a the kid! she's ill!" My mom yells at the nurse.

"Exactly. Look, we can do a lot here, cure cancer isn't one of them. We're sorry."

There it is. The silent truth. My mother looks at the nurse like she's going to say something. She never did. She just stands there, not looking anywhere yet everywhere. She just stands there. Expressionless.

"we're going home." And we grab our things, and we leave.