The Memoirs of George Scott

A/N: Being an introvert to the extreme, the author of this short story does not have a proper editor nor any beta readers. Please bear with the errors. Constructive criticism is most definitely welcome and encouraged. That said, the author bids thee a merry time reading.

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     The room was already depressing at first glance. Heavy curtains were stopping sunlight from flooding the room and the air was full of the stale scent of hospitals. At the moment, the only thing to be heard was the constant beeping of a heart monitor. But what probably catches the observers attention at first was the motionless young man lying on the bed in the middle of the room, numerous machines attached to him through wires and plastic tubes. He was a pity to behold.

     He wasn't dead, but he might as well be. His face was thin and sallow and every aspect of his body was gaunt. In short, his physique was very much weathered by sickness and hardships through the years. There was a peaceful look on the young man's face for he was asleep and disturbing him would most likely wipe off the placid look of his face.

     Then, a soft knock on the door was heard, rousing him from his slumber, and a nurse's head popped in.

     "George Scott? You've got a visitor," she piped in, trying to be as cheerful as possible.

     Hospital life has gotten pretty dull for George, considering that he stayed there for almost half of his life. You see, he was diagnosed with acute lymphocytic leukemia and arteriouvenous malformation, a type of cancer and an abnormal connection between veins and arteries respectively, at a young age. Life is unfair, you say? Well, it was. Cruel to some, even.

     Being different from the other children, he would have had rather read a book than play outside. When he was about eight years of age, his sister, Melody, was born. But then she died shortly after turning three which led to the divorce of their parents. His father died because of an unknown reason years after and his mother was driven into emotional instability, and the possibility of insanity, after knowing about George's predicament. Having no family left, aunts and uncles included, he was left in the care of the authorities. They put him in the hospital when his condition worsened and there he is now.

     He's been getting worse and worse. Just a few months ago, the doctors decided to break the news to him that his cancer had gone terminal, meaning he had less than six months to live. He couldn't accept it at first but he came to terms when he realised that they could do nothing about it. George decided to make the most out of it, go out and see the world, have fun, stuff like that, but his current state wouldn't let him.

     There was only one source of light in his life and she just walked into the room. Briony Carlton, a childhood friend, was carrying a bunch of packages wrapped in brown paper before she put them down on the foot of his bed.

     George felt something for Briony but he knew for a fact that his feelings were unreturned. Who in the right mind would like to live their life with someone like me? Ill, wasting away, all these negative things, he thought. To make matters worse, Briony is happily married and had a lovely two-year-old son. He knew that telling her would just send their friendship in a downwards spiral. Everything would be in jeopardy and he would lose the only friend who was truly close to his heart. So he had to make do with admiring her from afar.

     She didn't stay long. A few stories were exchanged over steaming cups of hot chocolate and coffee. George had the former while Briony, the latter. She put an arm around his shoulders and gave him a one-armed hug. He noticed her hastily wiping a few tears rolling down her face when she pulled away but he didn't say anything.