My lungs have given up. I can feel my oxygen tank fighting to keep me alive but my lungs do not want to work. It is screaming at them that it is not time, I will survive this. I take in wheezy breaths and I want to rip my cannula out to speed up the process of dying. My parents lay either side of me, worried expressions taint their faces. I watch their lips quiver whenever I breathe and I can see the pain in their eyes. I want to cheer them up. Come on I'm not dead yet. I don't want their pain to be the last I see. This is a side effect of dying though; hurting the ones around you.
There is a great pain in my head. It is probably the war cry of cancer as it goes into its final battle. It knows it will win this time as nothing can stop it. I will gladly speed up the process as an enemy behind the lines; I am not proud of myself for giving up. My death will not be heroic and I will not hold on. I am strangely ready for this. I have faced so much over these past years and not once have I given up. My courage has been worn thin and tight like the skin of a drum. But cancer beats it heavily and rough, waiting for it to snap. There will be no replacement once this one breaks and I have to admit it is close.
My breathing gets much harder and my parents notice the struggle. They sit up to give me a good look over. I try a smile to reassure them – it will be okay. My dad starts to tear up at this but he attempts a smile back.
"Honey I want you to know you are the best daughter we could've asked for. I'm just sorry that we do not get more time with one another. We will miss watching American's Next Top Model with you and eating dinner at the table as a family. However I wouldn't want it any other way. You mean a lot to us Hazel and we will always hold you dear in our lives." His voice wavers and he cannot stop the flow of tears as they fall onto his shirt. My mom takes his hand in hers and I know they will survive as long as they have one another.
"I love you" I wheeze and take their hands in mine. "Thank you" I can feel myself slipping into unconsciousness. The world goes hazy but their faces remain.
"We love you Hazel Grace Lancaster. Sleep well."
Through the haze in my brain, I see someone; a tall figure with a slight limp walking towards me. My heart skips a beat as his features become clearer. I can make out the thin cigarette hanging from his mouth, crooked smile in place. He was wearing the same sky-blue button-down he travelled to Amsterdam in. I'd forgotten what a thrill I felt whenever I looked at him.
"Okay." He smiles, takes my hand in his leading me further away from consciousness. I guess he found that Something.