I must have been holding my breath because I started feeling faint. I braced myself on the kitchen unit, staring at my father.
This can't be happening. Was he fucking serious? I felt like I had just received a swift kick to the gut. My throat closed up, my lungs screaming at me to take a breath.
Breathe, Bella.
I scanned the kitchen, looking for the culprit. As if finding it would somehow cure this unbearable news.
My dad followed my line of sight, realising immediately what I was after. I grabbed them from the counter and threw them in the trash, "This is where they belong." I croaked, staring at the trash can as if it was a black hole to hell itself.
"Doing that isn't going to fix this, Bells." He sighed, softly.
I stared back at my father, suddenly feeling overwhelming anger, pain and denial all rolled into one big ball of shit.
"Well what the fuck do you want me to do?" I growled, "You have...you have.." I couldn't even form the word.
"Cancer?" He said it like it was nothing. Like he expected it to just disappear, cure itself.
"Yeah." I whispered, "How...how bad is it? It can be cured, right? They can cure it?" I took a deep shaky breath and clenched my fists, "Tell me it's fucking curable."
My dad sighed, defeated, "They said...they said that they will do their very best."
I glared at him, was he serious? "What the fuck does that mean?"
"Bella, please. Language." He ran his hand through his hair, "I have to go for radiation and maybe some chemo, but they aren't very optimistic."
His words made my whole world crumble into a thousand tiny pieces of glass. I quickly brushed a tear from cheek.
"Because it's spread to my pancreas, they are limited to what they can do for me."
I walked over to him, and hugged him. He stroked my hair, which only comforted me a little. "We'll get through this, Bella." He whispered, kissing my forehead.
I prayed to God he was right.

It was safe to say I got no sleep whatsoever last night. Not a bit. I kept going over my father's words.
"I have some bad news, Bells. Maybe you should sit down?" He gestured toward the chair across from him.
"I'm good thanks." I whispered, watching his face intently.
"I was at the hospital today, getting my results from the tests they did last week...and..." He took a deep breath, staring at the table for what felt like a century, "They found something."
I furrowed my brow, "What did they find?" I whispered. His eyes closed for a moment and when he opened them again I could see the pain, frustration and fear etched in them.
I took a deep breath, waiting for his next words.
"They found mets in my liver...I have cancer. It's spread to my pancreas."
Cancer.
Fucking cancer. I checked the little alarm clock on the table beside my bed. 05:45. I sighed, good job it was a Saturday. I didn't have to go to school and face people, faking smiles and pleasantries.
I never thought in a million years this would happen to me again. Not after my mom. My mom died when I was fourteen. Car accident.
Some smartass motherfucker thought it would be a grand idea to get behind the wheel shitfaced, effectively ending my mom's life. My dad was inconsolable for months afterwards, and I couldn't face it.
I became detached from everything. I took up smoking, just like my dad. I knew it was a filthy habit, but it was all I had to get me through the worst year of my life.
That's why we moved to Forks. My dad couldn't face living in Seattle anymore. Everything reminded him of my mom. I agreed to move here, because I knew it was in his best interest.
He needed to move on and escape the confines of grief.
But now it was me that was trapped.
Claustrophobic.
I wasn't sure I had the strength in me to lose another person I cared about. I couldn't go through this again. I never got the chance to say goodbye to my mom, but I do with my dad.
So I'm just going to have to spend all the time in the world with him.
Just to face the inevitable.

I stomped my way down the stairs, finding the kitchen empty. The cruiser wasn't outside. He must be at work. I didn't know how he could face work. Couldn't he take some time off, just to absorb everything? Knowing my dad, he probably didn't tell anyone. He just wanted to take his mind off it with work.
What was I to do today? Sit and depress myself over last nights events? Fuck that.
If he was going to put on a brave face then so was I. I could do that, right? Wrong.
That was proven when Jess called to go shopping.

We had just walked into what felt like the hundredth clothing store. I honestly thought this would take my mind off things, get me back to some sort of normalcy.
"So I told him that he couldn't just brush my feelings under the carpet as if they meant nothing, right? And he just walked out. Like, out of the house. He never even called or sent me a text. What an asshole, right?" Jessica rambled on and on, but I wasn't really listening.
I just nodded when appropriate and shook my head when I felt I had to.
"I mean, who does that? I'm his girlfriend. He's supposed to consider my feelings and he just isn't. I even told him that-"
"Jesus fucking Christ, get over it already! It's not as if he's leaving to go to another country." I snapped. I had reached my boiling point with this shit.
Jessica gaped at me, shocked at my sudden outburst. I had never snapped at her. Never.
"Well, excuse me. I thought I could talk to my friend about this. Clearly, I was wrong." She retorted bitterly.
I rolled my eyes, "I'm sorry, Jess. I just have...I have a lot going on right now, okay?"
Wait...why the fuck was I apologising to her? She was the one who had bombarded me with this for the past week. I sighed and ran my hand through my hair.
Jessica gave me a soft smile, "It's okay. I have been going on about for ages, haven't I?"
I nodded weakly, "Yeah. Ages."
She smiled again and started combing through the shelves of jeans, "So, what's going on with you?" She asked, as she pulled out a pair of blue denims.
"My dad has cancer." I blurted before I had time to realise.
"What?!" Her eyes widened, concern wifilled her eyes.
"Yeah...cancer." I shook my head, "I found out last night."
"Is it...you know, serious?"
Was she serious? "Yes, it serious." I spat, "It's fucking cancer."
She bit her lip, realising her fuck up, "I didn't mean it that way. I meant, is it...terminal?"
I shrugged, "I don't know. My dad said that the doctors are gonna do the best they can." I felt my throat closing up again and I knew what was going to quickly follow. Tears.
"I'm going for a smoke." I muttered before she had a chance to say anything else.
When I got outside, it felt like I could finally breathe again. I put a cigarette to my mouth and lit it, drawing smoke into my lungs.
I watched as a moody teenager stalked by, face in her phone as her parents tried to make conversation. It angered me somehow.
I didn't know these people, but the anger I felt was too much. Didn't she realise that her parents weren't going to be around forever?
No, because I didn't.
I took the last draw of my cigarette and stubbed it out. I should have stayed home today.

When I got home, I was surprised to see my dad sitting on the couch in the living room.
"Hey dad." I smiled, sitting on the chair next to him.
He smiled in return, "What did you do today, chicko?"
I shrugged, I doubt he wanted to hear about my outburst at Jessica, "Nothing much. Just went shopping."
"Get anything nice?" He mused, talking to me like nothing had changed. Like he wasn't fucking dying.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and shook my head.
"Oh well," He chuckled, "You want some pizza?" He reached over and took a cigarette out of the packet I was sure I threw away.
"You're still smoking?" I shrieked, "You do realise you have cancer, right? You want it to spread to your lungs?!" My blood was boiling. How he could still do that after the news he got yesterday? Didn't he care at all? It sure as hell didn't seem like it.
"You're still smoking." He sighed, raising a brow.
I could help the snort that escaped me, "I'm not the one with cancer."
Those were my parting words before I went to my room, slamming my door in the process.
Way to go, Bella. Thought you were gonna spend what precious time you had left with him?

I needed to get out of this house. I felt like I couldn't breathe again, like someone was pressing down hard on my chest.
Was it supposed to feel this way? Was this my body's way telling of myself I wasn't coping already?
I scrolled through the contacts in my phone, looking for someone to talk to. I stopped when I saw his name. I wished I could just press 'call' and listen to his voice. He would calm me down, he would reassure me.
But we made a deal, and neither one of us had broken that deal. I whimpered to myself and scrolled by his name.
Stupid summer vacation.

I hated hospitals, they smelled like death and despair. Utter hopelessness. My experiences with this place were never good, and I doubt that was about to change.
I sat across from Dr. Webber, staring at his overly pessimistic face as he explained to my dad and I what was happening in regard to his treatment.
"At some point you may need to undergo some surgery to remove some of the mets on your liver. Then we can progress to a more aggressive form of treatment. There is no telling how long this will take, or if there will be any positive results from it. I have some of the best oncologists in Pheonix looking at your case, so we can cover all bases..."
I stood up, I had to leave. I couldn't listen to this anymore. My dad nodded knowingly, letting me know it was okay to leave. I squeezed his hand gently and left the room.
I couldn't fucking deal with this. He was all I had left.
I sat in the waiting room, staring at the floor. What would happen to me if he died? Where was I going to go? How was I going to survive? I couldn't lose another parent, I just couldn't.
I noticed my reflection in the waiting room window. God, I looked like shit. I had bags under my eyes, indicating how little I slept over the past two weeks.
Yes, it had been two weeks since he told me. Did it feel like two weeks? No, it didn't.
I spent most of the days going to hospital appointments and spending as much time as I could with my dad. He had stopped going to work. That was a relief. I didn't want him to tire himself out more than he had to be. At least with him at home, I could keep an eye on him, make sure he was taken care of.
I pulled my hair into a pony tail, I couldn't be fucked today. I was exhausted, but nothing compared to my dad. He look twice as worse as me.
Dr. Webber's office door opened and my dad stepped out, dragging his hand down his face.
"Is everything okay?" I stood, expecting to hear the worse.
He smiled at me and pulled me into a hug, "Everything is okay, kiddo. He was just telling me about the side effects of the treatment I'll be receiving."
I rested my head on his shoulder, "I don't want you to worry about anything." I whispered, "I'll be here."
He hugged me tighter, "I know."