Onto the Floor
12 roses in her hand.
12 roses that cannot stand.
1 rose falls to the floor.
The single rose, dead forever more.
The smell. The awful antiseptic smell that makes me hate hospitals with even more passion. Ever since my last visit here before the testing. I remember every last horrifying putrid detail. I remember the chaos, the panic, the yelling, the blinding white lights as I tried desperately to catch another glimpse of my mother. I did not know at the time but that would be the last chance to ever see her alive again. I watched from afar as the doctors worked to keep her heart pumping. I remember seeing my last family member slowing drain of life before my very eyes. I remember watching her chest start to heave out of normal rhythm. I remember the doctors barking even more orders. The sight of seeing multiple people scurrying around in a blur of white. I remember how everyone was so preoccupied that none noticed the ten year old girl huddled in the corner of the bleak hospital room, holding herself for comfort and to keep herself from shaking as she watched the last person she loved and had in this world slowly fade away. After what had seemed like a never ending eternity, I remember hearing it. It was that sound that made my life so much worse. The flat line. The one machine that signaled the death of my mother. That was six years ago.
I guess I should start from the beginning. Like, as to why I am back in my own personal place of torment or what my name is even. Hello, and welcome to my twisted life. My name is Sedona Grey. I am sixteen years old. My father left my mother and I years ago. I don't even know his name. It was just me and my mom then. Until six years ago. She passed. She was having anxiety problems and soon had a heart attack. I was the one to call the police. After her death, I was then sent to a foster home, since I had no other known relatives, and I have been living there since. The household consists of Lynn Walker and other foster children. Lynn helps us, but doesn't necessarily take care of us. There are too many living there. Since I moved there, I was an outcast. Only by choice though. I never connected with any other kids. I never even tried. I actually refused. So only Lynn knows what's happening today and why I'm here. She even stopped by for a minute to give me a dozen red roses. Somehow she knew they were my favorite. I was actually glad to see someone I knew though. Now, as for why I am here. I have been tested on because I have been showing signs for... cancer. That word has been infecting my mind for the past few weeks. That is the word that feels as though it is burned into my eyelids so that every time I even blink it's there. That is the word that has been haunting my nightmares. That is the word that may end my life.
I sit and stare at the four bleak walls of the waiting room. Can you guess what color they were? White. Surprising, right? I wasn't really focusing on the walls though. My mind was spinning and trying to make sense of everything that has and might happen. All I can do is hope. Not even for the best, but anything besides the worst.
I see the doors open at the end of the hallway. The doctor who has been attending to me walks out and makes his way towards me. He won't meet my eyes. He just keeps re-reading his clipboard. I never liked this doctor. He seemed... cowardly? With his sandy brown hair and deep brown trusting eyes, hidden somewhat by his glasses, and his wiry figure, he couldn't be over thirty-five. It always seemed as if the diagnosis he had to deliver to someone was tragic, he would try to beat around the bush or try to sugarcoat it. He could never say what he just needed to say. Like now.
My heart was beating so quickly and loudly that I was almost sure the others in the waiting room could hear it. It was taking all of my self control to not spring from my chair and run as fast as I could away from this nightmare. He was still taking agonizingly slow strides closer and closer to my seat in the corner of the room. I hadn't noticed it before but as I looked down at my hands, I saw that I had pulled one of the twelve roses out and started fiddling with it, trying to keep my mind busy and not wandering as it has a tendency to do so. He finally reached my isolated area and would look anywhere but my eyes. That was a dead give away. When he finally met them he couldn't hold my gaze and quickly looked away. I finally spoke up, "Talk. Now please." My voice was meant to sound strong and fearless. Instead it came out raspy and barely above a whisper. It sounded nothing like me. I sounded weak and pathetic.
His voice dragged me out of my thoughts. His voice sounded similar to my own. Pitiful. He looked at me sadly. Sympathetic. I didn't want his pity, I didn't want his sympathy, I didn't want anything from him. I just wanted to hear the words so I knew for a fact. "What is it.", I said in a harsher tone than I intended. He's just doing his job. He winced at the edge in my voice, but spoke anyway. "I-it see-ems y-ou have... Leukemia. I'm sorry. It also seems you have twelve days to live. Eleven, if you don't count today." As he ended the sentence his volume dropped to barley a whisper. I didn't say anything. I couldn't say anything. My mind was swimming and swirling trying to wrap itself around this new horrifying information. I unintentionally tightened my grip on the single rose in my hand. He tried speaking to me but I could barley hear his mumbled words that sounded like my name. I could only hear the blood rushing through my ears. I started seeing black dots and becoming unbearably dizzy. I felt nothing but air and hands grabbing at my forearms. I guess I was falling. I landed on a cool, white surface I was assuming was the tiled ground. I was fainting. I was only conscious long enough to see the rose roll out of my hand, across the bleached floor, and under the chair. My last thought before the darkness consumed me was, No one will find the rose. It won't get sun or water. It will slowly and painfully die. I guess we now have a lot in common.