ONE LAST REQUEST [Tom Hiddleston Fanfiction]

Prologue : This is me

"My name is Jade Swan, and this is my story ..."

So you are probably guessing that I took time out from school or collage to go on a massive adventure around the world, or that I'm some superhero or film star, and that you are going to read all about it right now. How I scaled across the Great Wall of China or punched The Terminator in the face. 

Truth is, there is no truth. No story of adventures. That is the life I wish I could have, but I will never get the chance to. So, let me begin this story. 

I'm just a normal 17 year old girl from Britain on the outside. You wouldn't think anything would be wrong, apart from that I might have the typical 'teenager mood swings' or that I am hopelessly in love with the guy next door. But you'd be wrong. I have a younger brother, Chris, so I'm not a lonely child. But I am lonely, as no one understands.

My mum looks after the both of us, as she's a single parent. Dad died when I was only a toddler, but she never told us why, or how. It was only when I reached 16 did she tell me. He died of cancer. He hadn't been a smoker, or done drugs, or even drank that much. He had been a hard working, loving man who had provided and supported his family. We don't know if he knew he had it, whether the doctors had told him or not; he just never woke up. 

It all started for me when I felt strange one day at school. I just thought that it was my stomach playing up on me, or my appendix giving me grief. I didn't know what it was, and neither did the school nurses. It made me nervous, sitting there in class, not knowing what was wrong with me. I started to feel hot and sweaty, my hands shaking, my heart racing. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was having a panic attack; my body was shutting down. As soon as I collapsed I was rushed in the back of an ambulance straight to hospital. They checked me over again and again but could find nothing wrong. So they dug a little deeper, and did more tests, more detailed examinations. And didn't like what they found. 

I remember that day so clearly...

The dull office which they sat me down in, dressed in my PJs on a uncomfortable plastic chair, my mum sat nervously beside me, clutching my hand tightly. She didn't cry, merely sniffled, trying to stay strong for me. I had never been to hospital before, so the fear inside me of being in this strange place must have been clearly visible on my face. I tried distracting myself, by counting the roof tiles in the ceiling, or by trying to pronounce the doctors surname, printed on his desk plaque. Nothing helped. The doctor came in after what felt like eternity of waiting, clipboard in hand, and sat behind his desk, watching us from over his glasses. He didn't say a word; the room was eerily quiet with just the ticking clock on the wall. I felt nervous, scared, terrified. 

He did not speak to me at first, but talked directly to my mother. I could not understand what they were talking about exactly, but I knew they were talking about me, as they mentioned my name. I could feel my mum becoming more distressed, her eyes welling in tears, yet I still could not understand why she was getting upset. "More tests", I manage to catch him say. Why more? What was wrong with me?

Ushered onto a waiting bed outside, I was wheeled down the endless corridors, my mum refusing to let go of my hand the whole time and doctors walked alongside, carrying all sorts of strange instruments. A needle was pushing into my arm painfully, and my mum squeezed my hand saying that I was going to have a little sleep, kissing my forehead. No, I didn't want to sleep. I wanted to know what was happening. I could feel my heart beating faster again, which only further increased my panic. The doctor started counting. One. Two. Three. Four.