The Story of a Dying Girl

Hey guys!

Okay, so this one is a really short chapter, but that's because I have a lot planned for next chapter!

Thanks to everyone, really, it means a lot to me!

Thank mswitsend for giving me a shoutout and also to marsupial1974 for giving me one in her third chapter of You've Been Holding My Heart All Along. Jesus their stories are amazing! And once again, thank you to everyone, author or not for supporting me. There are so many amazing stories out there, and I'm really grateful that all of you have taken the time to read my kinda crappy one.

Also, I suggest you check out two stories that haven't received as much attention as they should! After the Moonrise by Alexandra Condesso and Under My Skin by Jbrossk.

Away we go!

Chapter 22:

"Chapter 3 is where it gets good Naoms," she said, eyes semi-closed, her voice weaker than before.

I was reading to her. It was in the first days of May, the second I believe. She lay there so small in her bed as I flicked through pages, reading aloud to her.

And here we were, chapter three of the latest book, and she suddenly seemed more alert than before.

"Chapter 3," I began, and the words rolled off my tongue and her drowsy, weak smile got bigger.

I reached out and held her hand, it was thin, and it felt cold, really cold. I took off my jacket and draped it over her, kissing her forehead softly after I did so.

"Come on, don't stop now! It's just getting good," she said, smiling so beautifully it hurt.

"So where was I?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"Chapter 3! It's my favorite!" She said, and hit my arm, softer she before, weaker.

I ignored that thought.

"Chapter 3," I began again.

I found myself lying down next to her when the day became night.

She was curled into me, and I stared up at the ceiling.

She would wake up every couples of minutes, coughing and then go back to sleep, and I held her in my arms, her body so thin, why was it so thin?

Why was it so thin?

Why was it so fucking thin?

I choked up a bit.

Why?

Why?

I try to ignore all of these thoughts, flying at me at alarming speeds, blinding me and hurting me, making me want to hurl.

Two days later I was on the couch, watching some crappy TV sitcom, with some equally stupid name, and it went to commercial, and some lady tried to sell me some new kitchen product, and I wondered if she was happy, because she didn't look happy.

And my mum was sitting down next to me, and she looked over at me, and then looked back at the TV.

"Things will be okay," she said, eyes still on the TV.

"What?" But I knew exactly what she was talking about. "I didn't say anything."

"You didn't need to, love," she said in her motherly way.

"And how can you be so sure?" I was desperate for her to be right, for her to know for a fact, like some kind of superhero. It wasn't a fair thing to ask of her, but I really just needed to hear it.

"A mother just knows these things. I know everything," she said, laughing a bit at the last part, but somehow still semi-serious.

"You thought I was straight when I was little," I said, challenging her.

She laughed.

"Oh honey, I never thought that."

"Bitch."

But it felt good to hear her say that Emily would be okay.

But that's when it hit me.

She never said that.

I looked over to her, my heart in my throat.

"She'll be okay," she said quietly, but she didn't seem as certain as she had been before.

It felt like someone had punched me.

Have you ever had a shit day? Where things have just been bad, and then you get mad, but you get mad at the person who never even had anything to do with it?

That happened today.

I didn't really mean it to, but it happened, again.

Mandy.

This time, she hadn't really done anything wrong, she hadn't said anything, or done anything, but I was mad at the world, again.

And so she was standing there outside, and she kinda smirked at me, and there was something that bothered me about the smirk so much, like she was laughing at my pain, like she found this whole thing to be some sick, twisted, kind of funny.

And so I walked up to her, and she her smirk faltered a bit, but she kept it on anyway, like it was in fashion.

"Campbell! Here for round 2? Was it not bad enough last time, huh? What, do you like pain? I bet you-" She didn't get to finish.

I tackled her to the ground, my right shoulder hitting her square in the stomach.

What happened next was a blur, but not like all those nights ago when we were driving around aimlessly, no, this was different.

It was hazy, and I just remembered flying fists, and chanting, and Cook's voice in my head, and Emily's face, and I remember feeling pain, but ignoring it.

I remember hitting her, repeatedly, harder and harder, like by doing so, it would fix things, when in reality, it didn't make me feel any better when it was over.

But I didn't know that at the time, so I just kept on hurting her, punching her, and I ignored the blood coming from my nose, and the cuts on the face, and the bruises forming on my bloodied fists.

She threw me off of her.

I remember that.

And I remember being kicked in the stomach, and being told to stay down.

And I remember grabbing her leg, pulling her down, and punching her again.

And I remember being in an office again, ripped shirt, and bloodied nose, and the principal saying something about fighting, and Saturday school, and something about Emily, and how he, "gets that I'm going through a difficult period in my life, but that fighting is unacceptable."

I walked out later, and I felt just the same, and then I was at Cook's and he was cleaning up my fists, and kissing my knuckles, and hugging me, and telling me that he was worried about me, that he is worried about me.

And Kate sat there looking concerned, and then there was Emily.

Because there's always Emily, and there will always be Emily.

In my thoughts, and clouding my vision, and in my heart.

Always in my heart. It's hers now.

Maybe it always was.

And then I thought of my dad, sitting in my bed next to me in my bed, laughing and telling me stories and stuff that dads say, or that I imagine they usually say.

"And someday, you'll find someone, and you'll love them so incredibly, and you don't know them yet, or maybe you do, but you just don't know yet, and you won't know it for quite some time. But they're out there."

And so here she was, sitting in a hospital bed, caressing my fingers and kissing every cut and bruise that had formed on my face as she listened to me describe what I could remember from the fight.

It was May fifth, I remember that part clearly.

She looked so sick sitting there, she really did. She looked beautiful, she always did and always would, but she was ill, and you could tell.

"Hey, there's something I do sometimes when you're," she coughed for a bit. For a while. "At school," she finished.

"Yeah?" I asked. "What is it?"

"Come on, I'll show you," she said, and sat up.

"Woah, woah, woah," I protested. "Is it a good idea for you to be getting up right now?"

"Naoms, it's fine."

"We could get you a wheel chair or something."

"Naomi, it's fine."

And so she grabbed my hand with thin fingers and walked me to an area.

Emily walked into a room, and there sat a little girl with no hair.

"Emily!" Her eyes got so big and bright, and Emily smiled so largely, I wondered if this was the cutest thing I had ever seen.

"Hey Casey!" She said, and scooped the little girl into a big hug. "How are you?"

"Good. Mummy bought me a new toy!" She held it out to Emily so proudly, and my smile only got bigger.

"Who's this?" She asked, kinda shyly.

"This is my girlfriend, Naomi," Emily said softly, grabbing my hand.

"Hi," she said, and sort of waved, a shy smile adorning her face.

"Hello," I said, smiling, and I watched Emily talk to her, asking about her day, and the whole time I had this stupid sort of grin on my face.

Because it's so cute and it made my hear swell with happiness.

"What happened to your face?" She asked, gingerly reaching out, and touching on of the bruises softly.

I crouch down even more.

"Well, you see, I got into a fight," I say sheepishly.

"Why?"

"Because, well, you know, uhh… wanna see something cool?" I said, trying to avoid the subject.

"Yeah!"

"Okay, so in this hand, I have nothing, and in this other hand, I have nothing." I say, getting ready to do a magic trick that that kid JJ showed me after I had taken care of the girl who used to bully him.

"Okay, hey… did you wash behind your ears?" I ask, jokingly furrowing my brow and tilting my head."

"Maybe…." She kinda looks sheepish and smiles.

"I don't think you did. I mean, look!" And with that I pull out a quarter from behind her ear.

"Wow! How did you do that?!" I hand her the quarter, and she looks down at it amazed.

I lean in close to her ear, like it's some kinda secret, and whisper, "Magic."

"Really?" She asks, eyes wide.

"Really. But don't tell anyone okay? It's just between you and me."

"Okay. Your secret it safe with me!"

"I knew I could trust you."

And she's smiling so big, and Emily looks so fucking happy, and I could melt right there.

I mean, I didn't. But I could.

I really could.

Later at night, when I'm lying in bed, next to her, all I can think about is how good she was with Casey, and how she would be with our kids, and will we get to have kids?

Will we get married?

Will we move into together?

Will we grow old together?

Please, please, let me.

And now I'm thinking of the Smiths song, and then I think about that song in Ferris Bueller's Day Off, and then I'm thinking about when we watched Ferris Bueller's Day Off on that hill, and we looked at the stars.

I kiss her forehead one last time before I drift off for the night.

The next day I leave to go home, bashed face, and a heart feeling better than before.

My mum and I have a silent breakfast, and I know she knows about my face, the school must have called her, but she doesn't say anything.

I'm chewing on a piece of something, I'm not entirely sure what it is. It doesn't look like food, I'll tell you that. It doesn't taste like food either. It tastes like bullshit.

But I eat it anyways, because I know it makes my mum happy, and I guess it's just something that people do. Like when mums say that their child is beautiful, their kids eat their food when it's gross, because it's just the thing that you do.

And she doesn't mention it later either, and I'm upstairs, looking at it, staring at my back eye and cuts, and kinda laughing knowing Mandy got it way worse.

I throw myself onto my bed, and I reach for my book, turning it to page one, the beginning of a new adventure, this book that I will probably be reading to Emily soon.

And I reach into the pocket of my coat, looking for a mint (I started carrying them when Emily and I started dating so my breath wouldn't be shit) and I freeze when my hand meets paper instead.

It's not the napkin with the bleeding ink, but instead it's something else.

I take it out, frowning at the piece of paper, unfolding it carefully.

And there, in Emily's nice and neat handwriting was:

"You'll always be my Chapter 3."

Okay, so there we have it!

So, I won't have access to a computer for a bit because of Thanksgiving, but have no fear, I will still post on Sunday!

I hope you all have a good Thanksgiving!

Let me know what you thought!