Please

I walked into the dimly lit room, with the little rolling white bed, with her lying down in it. She looked so fragile, like a little porcelain doll. My poor dear sister. The big heart monitor near her bed showed that she had time. Some time. I took in all the details. The little wood cabinet covered in flowers and cards and pictures I had sent her. The whiteboard that had stories that we had written together when she was healthy. The fuzzy pink carpet that we had taken from home to the hospital for her. The rolling table filled with medical stuff. The flickering light at the top of the room that looked like it was going to turn off any minute.

She smiled at me calmly. Too calmly... after all, we all knew she was going to die. "Remember to be a good girl for Mommy..." she said hoarsely, choking on her own words, "Be a good, good girl." I nodded solemnly, watching my older sister, my idol, slowly breathing, her chest heaving as she sighed in pain. I started to cry, and I watched the heart monitor. Still breathing, still pumping... still alive. Just slower. "You don't have to die. Please don't die," I whispered, shaking. Still slowing down. Beads of sweat came running down my forehead, joining my tears. My palms were sweaty and my hands were trembling all over. "Please, please, please, please!" I begged, holding my sister's cold, delicate hand. "Please... for me." I cried hard, big tear after tear until I was sitting in a big puddle, sniffling.

"No, no, dear, that won't do," she whispered, voice growing softer and hoarser. The heart monitor was beeping now... she didn't have much time left... she was shaking, too. She knew her fate, but how was she so calm? She smiled peacefully, her eyelids starting to drop as she closed her eyes.

"Wake up! Wake up," I sobbed, "I beg you..." Her eyes opened a little bit.

"You don't deserve this! I'd trade places with you, just please don't die. The doctor will make sure you're okay. Please, please!" The heart monitor beeped once very loudly, and my sister's eyes closed, and her hands stopped shaking. "No!" I yelled, "No, please, no!"

The flickering light at the top of the room went dark, and all alone, holding my dead sister's hand, I curled up into a ball and cried again.

Author's Note

Very much inspired by Owlgirl's touching peace "I Love You, Anna" (http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/owlgirl/1105475/). I like how I used the flickering light as a symbol of the girl's sister's life. I think this was a good story and nice writing practice.