The Story of a Dying Girl

Hello! Sorry this is short and crap.

Thanks so much for all the support. It means more to me than you'll ever truly know.

I hope this doesn't sound whiney or anything, but I just want to ask if people are still really enjoying this. Lately I feel like it hasn't been the best almost like I'm dragging it out because I'm afraid to end it. So is anyone still into it, or is it getting kinda repetitive? I think there's only maybe 2 of 3 chapters left in this story.

Anyways, let's do this thing!

Chapter 30:

Being in a coma is an odd thing that I cannot even begin to really explain, but I guess I could try.

I guess I could try and I could explain it to you maybe a million times and you would never truly grasp it.

And it's nothing against you or any part of who you are and what makes up your being, I'm sure you're great, but it's just something that is hard to tell you about.

But I'll give it a shot anyways.

I'll start with this:

I could hear everything.

All the voices of all the people.

I could hear them.

When my dad cried and told me that I was his little girl- I heard that.

When Katie came in and told me that she didn't think she would be able to live if I didn't- I heard that too.

And every time Naomi said I love you- I heard.

And in my mind, I was responding.

And so I would tell my dad that he means the world to me, and I would tell Katie that she has so many great things ahead of her. And every time Naomi said I love you, every single time, I said it back.

But no one could hear me.

And another weird thing were the places I envisioned. When a stranger talked to me, I thought of some strange place where I felt scared. And when someone I knew was talking, I thought of the most beautiful places that made me feel safe.

Places with the most beautiful sunrises.

Naomi watched me with careful eyes.

She looked at me, eyes remaining on my small, weak body, reminding me of Dodo.

Dodo, was, for those of you who are now wondering what the hell I'm talking about, the best stuffed giraffe a little girl could have.

And I took care of her better than I took care of myself.

Her hair down her neck perfectly brushed and pushed back in the perfect way, and her bead eyes always looking polished.

I cared for her more than Katie and James had for all toys combined.

And now Naomi sits on the end of my bed, watching me carefully, just I did Dodo all those years ago.

She leaned over and tucked a rebel strand of hair back behind my ear, kissing my nose.

"How you feeling?" She asked, still playing with me hair softly as I leaned back and moaned softly at the gentle sensation.

"Better."

"That's good. That's good. Better is good. Better is-"

"Better is better."

A laugh.

"I guess you could say that."

She continued stroking my hair delicately.

A kiss here on the lips there, a kiss on the forehead there, and gentle murmurings of "I love you" and "I missed you" there.

It was lovely.

It really was.

Because for a moment in time it felt like everything was alright.

And when later that night she kissed my head and hugged me tight, the feeling left me.

Because I was in a dark room, and there were lights from streets outside, and lights from all the cars with all the people going to all the places that people go when they aren't sitting alone in a hospital room.

It was quiet.

Hospitals get quiet at night, or at least the cancer ward did.

The doctors moved around quietly, and the nurses talked quietly, and the patients were quiet when they slept, but most of them were quiet wen they were awake too. And they were quiet.

The people were quiet when they sat there, and when they slept, and when they took that final breath of air, the one that always killed me to think about.

And it hurts my heart to think about all the people that I went to sleep having seen a moment before, and all the times then that I didn't realize that was the last time I would ever see them.

So I didn't think about it, because it was easier not to.

I'll tell you the reason people don't like hospitals:

It is a place plagued with death.

I mean that in the least dark way I could say it, but death is a dark thing, and often unfair to the point where it's just cruel.

People don't like death.

And a hospital always seems to have the whispers of mortality lurking.

Not to say that's the only thing going on at hospitals. Not to say that no one ever gets better, because many do.

But like I said, life and death were never about playing a fair game.

I fell asleep an hour later.

It was still quiet.

Naomi sat in my bed.

"Graduation is next week."

"Is it?" I was tired. My mind, my body.

"Yeah." Said softly. Always said softly. Everything was said softly.

I leaned into her, and breathed her scent.

It was pleasant and sweet and it made me happy for all those unexplainable reasons that can only be answered with: it's love.

"My little graduate." I coughed.

"Who are you calling little, short fry?"

I laughed.

I coughed.

I laughed some more.

And so I coughed some more.

"You."

"Well I think you might need to rethink that statement. How tall are you, 2 foot 7?"

"Shut up." I pushed her softly.

"Sorry, you're right. You've grown. 2 foot 8 now, isn't it? It must be! I knew you seemed taller!"

I stuck my tongue out at her.

"I've always loved your tongue. It's done some pretty amazing things."

"Naomi!"

"Well it's quiet a wonderful piece of you if I'm being honest."

"What else is wonderful about me?" I teased.

"Where to start? Your smile, your laugh, your whole being..."

"What a softie, you are!"

"Only with you."

And I knew the truth to that statement.

And I knew how special she was. How truly special Naomi is. The way she acts and the way she treats me.

And I could spend the rest of my life trying to convince her of all these things, and how much I love her, how much I truly and utterly love her.

I kissed her softly, but passionately.

And it was felt in every fiber of my being, down to the tips of my toes.

So we kissed again.

And again.

And some more, until our lips were swollen.

And we continued to kiss after that.

A cough.

This time not from me.

Coming from the doorway, my doctor stood awkwardly, looking at some notes, obviously waiting for us to stop.

"Terribly sorry to interrupt, but, I happen to have some news you may want to hear."

News was almost never good.

He walked up to my bed and say himself down in a chair nearby.

"So, how bad is it?" I asked. No need in wasting time and having all that false hope.

"Actually, Miss Fitch, you may be surprised to hear that this news," he shook the file with the notes, "is actually rather amazing."

"Carry on..." Naomi said and furrowed her eyebrows.

"Well the remarkable thing is, that despite all the odds, Miss Fitch, has, well, you see..."

"Cut to the bloody chase," Naomi said, obviously annoyed with this dragging out.

This isn't a bloody day time soap opera.

"The remarkable thing is that Miss Fitch is starting to get better."

There we have it!

Next chapter will be up on Sunday!

Let me know what you thought!