The Difference In A Daisy

She has cancer. She knows she's going to die, but she doesn't want to achnowlage it. She tries to live in the past, but the knowlage of her sure death keeps bringing her back to the present.

The cool breeze tickles my arms, sending a slight shiver down my back. The sun is illuminating the cherry blossom trees, projecting the pink of their flowers onto the soft earth. Children dance and play, chasing each other and squealing with delight. Birds chirp, creating the image of a fairy tale. One more image to remember before I surely die.

Mother holds my hand, telling me it's okay. I look around at the sterile room, waiting for the doctor to tell me it's time. I try to relive the happy moments in my life, however few there are. I try to ignore the fact that the surgery my doctor is going to attempt has a sixty percent chance of killing me. And if it doesn't kill me, then there's a seventy percent chance that I will be paralized.

I look at my newborn baby sister. She is pure, and innocent. The image of perfection. She makes a little creaking noise, and I feel proud and protective. I am asked if I want to hold her. I take her in my arms, feeling the warmth of her soft skin. She coo's, and my heart feels as if it's growing. She is healthy. Is it aweful for me to be jealous of a baby?

The doctor comes in, and Mother squeezes my hand so hard it hurts. She tries to give me a reassuring look, but her eyes are filled with tears. She turns away, and I hear her sob quietly. When I die, she'll have my little sister. At least my little sister will be healthy; my mother won't have to deal with two cancerous children. The doctor tells me that it's time. My mother gives me a last glance, and kisses me on the forehead. I am wheeled away to my death.

My father holds my hand, leading me to a lake. He smiles at my chubby four year old face. He tells me that he is going to teach me how to swim. I am worried; what if I disapoint him? He tells me it's okay. He tells me he can tell that I have a talent, even though the only water I've ever been in is my bath tub. I slip into the cold water, and experience bliss. The water runs over my arms, creating a peaceful feeling.

The doctor lays me down on a cold, hard hospital bed. I see my team of surgeons, smiling at me, trying to reassure me. Their grins don't fool me. I am going to die, and I know it. My doctor places a tube on my mouth. I know it will send me to sleep any second. Just as my vision goes black, I am overwhelmed with the unfairness of it all. I am as delicate as a flower, unable to fend for myself. How is it that my sister, my parents, my friends are strong? How is it that they never have to fear that they will die when they are seven? Even now that I am eighteen, I still haven't gotten over the cruelty of it. If there is a god, He surely doesn't favor me. My vision goes black, and I am out cold.

I am vaguely aware of whats happening, I know that I am going to die. I know that any minute I will hear a faint beep that informs me that my heart has stopped. My life seems to flash before my closed eyes.

I am six. My mother has just told me that I am sick, that I have bad things eating away at me. I don't understand, but I know I want to go to the park. I ask my mother in my most persuassive expression. She looks as if she is going to cry. I hug her, and ask whats wrong. Her tears spill over, and she makes choking sounds. Why is she crying? I want her to be happy.

I am seven. It is time for me to start school. I know that it starts tomorow, that in one day I will be a big girl, making friends and learning. I ask my father if he will go get my school suplies. He leaves looking furious. I can tell that he's not mad at me, but it still scares me. I start to cry. My mom comforts me, and when I calm down, I ask for my school suplies. Her face drains of its color, and she tells me that I'm not going to school. I'm too sick.

I'm twelve, and I've fallen in love. It's a sweet, innocent love, one only a child can experience. I was outside in my front yard, the only place that I'm aloud to be without my parents. Even though I feel better and havent needed my air tubes in over a month, I know the feeling won't last. A handsome, mysterious boy walks over to me. He asks my name. I tell him. He gives me a grin I will never forget. He grabbed my hand, and pulled me into a kiss. I knew that he had been watching me, as I had him. I spent my days at my window, watcing him play with his friends. I knew he was constantly glancing at me with desperate looks when he was with his friends.

I'm sixteen, and me and the boy I met so long ago are still in love. I love him with my heart and my soul, and he loves me with his. He know's I'm getting worse, but he can't admit it, even to himself. He takes me to my favrite restaurant for dinner; my parents trust him enough to let him take me out. I turn seventeen soon, and I know that my surgery is aproaching. We sit down and order, and I know I have to tell him what I've been dreading to speak. "Roman," I say in my weak voice, "I am going to die." I said it too loud, and I know it. The whole resteraunt heard it, and they were staring at me with pity. He looks at me with a passion I've never seen, and pulls me closer. His lips touch mine, both careful and passionate. I ignore the people who must be watching us, even though in the back of my head I know they must be furios. Roman keeps kissing me, harder and harder. I have to breath, but I don't care. I am going to die, I can be happy for a minute. He pulls away, but keeps his soft hands on my cheek, stroking my jaw with his thumb. The whole resteraunt starts to cheer, and I look around to see what they are clapping for. Then I realise-they are clapping for me.

I wake up in very little pain, but I know I will start hurting soon. How am I alive? I must pe paralized. I try to move my hands... and it works. It's hard, but that's only to be expected, as I just woke up from a medicine induced sleep.

I am in pain, and this will only slow my death, not stop it, but for now: I am alive

Reviews

[Miranda Richard]

It's so dark, but I love the romantic twist. This is well written.