P.S. I Love You

Chapter 3 - The Best of Your Life

CHAPTER 3

**JOY’S POV**

I wake up from the bright, summer light streaming through my faded blue curtains, casting its warm, golden rays on to my face. Too bad I can’t enjoy it.  I moan and turn over, shoving my face into a pillow.

“I. Don’t. Want. To. Wake. Up.” I groan haltingly, slamming my face deeper and deeper into the white, rock-like pillow at every word. I’m not much of a morning person. Never was, never will be.

I roll over again and look tiredly at the roof. Even with a full night’s sleep I still feel tired. Suppose I can have some coffee.

Coffee is my guilty pleasure; I swear I’m addicted to the stuff. Especially caramel mocha’s. They are like heaven on Earth. A heaven which I’ll visiting soon.

I swing myself out of the small bed and pad my way over the tiny kitchenette that the hospital has allowed me. They don’t allow me much but after hours and hours of pleading, threatening and debating, they let me have one. Took them long enough.

I flick the black switch on the kettle and busy myself with getting my instant coffee out of the cupboard. With trembling fingers I unscrew the green cap on the jar of coffee to shakily pour it into a white, ceramic mug. I bite my lip to stop the flow of curse words to come flowing out of my mouth. I’m getting weaker and weaker every day. And I can’t do anything to stop it.

My tired eyes with swooping purple, half-moons under them traces the path to where the draw where the knives are. Maybe, I could end my life now so I don’t have to go through all the pain this cancer brings me. Maybe I can die to slice my six months in half. Maybe I could be free.

Without my minds intention, my hand slowly slides towards the drawer, creating the steel handle to glint in the strong summer light.  My fingers close around the shiny blade, tracing the sharp edges, drawing coppery red blood.

I close my eyes, shutting off the haunting light that I’ll never be able to be free in. I gently place the knife just above my heart feeling my fluttering heartbeat swell to an inferno. I press it in, creating a slight dimple in my papery skin.

Goodbye world, don’t miss me.

“Put. The. Blade. Down” someone growls behind me and yanks the knife out of my shaking hands, nearly cutting himself.

Quite a familiar voice that.

Famous, well-known, sexy. Everything.

Zayn Malik’s voice.

“Why?” I reply calmly, my hands itching to grab that knife or turn around to hug him, curious to see how a normal human being reacts

“Because a beautiful girl like you shouldn’t kill herself” he whispers, his voice sending tingles up my spine.

“I only have a few months left, what’s the point?” I ask him, trying to ignore the celebrity crush that has no chance of becoming true.

“Well, I have the intention of making those few months the best of your life”