The Fighter

Joey

I wish I could say Bree was strong.

“She’s a fighter,” the doctors say. “She can beat this.” But I know better. They just say these things so that we don’t give up on her, to let us hope she has a chance. In reality, she never did.

I sink deeper into the paper-lined hospital chair, and loud crinkling noises fill the room. My eyes dart anxiously to the girl lying on the hospital bed at my side. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to have been roused from her slumber. Her face is squished up against the sheets as she sleeps, and the tips of her long, golden hair hang off the mattress. A faint smile plays at her lips. She must be having a good dream, I realize, and I wonder briefly if I’m in it.

Not that I deserve to be, after what I did to her.

My head jerks forward in a spastic nod as I wrestle with the need to surrender to unconsciousness. It’s past midnight now, but I feel the need to stay awake for Bree’s sake. She’s out like a light and probably wouldn’t notice or care if I fell asleep, but I want to be ready when she wakes up. 

My thoughts chime in with the correction, If she wakes up.

To keep my mind from drifting to more morbid thoughts and to keep myself from drifting off at the same time, I try to focus on other topics. Since the only thing I could possibly think about right now is Bree, I figure she’s about as good as person as ever to muse over to keep myself awake.

I’m proud to say I know a lot about Bree Adams. Most everything I’ve learned about her has been picked up from the years long ago that we spent together, but there are a few bits and pieces of information I’ve just recently obtained from the doctors and from Mr. and Mrs. Adams. Tonight, now that I have all my facts straight, I decide to put all these pieces together and form the complete story of Bree’s history. Looking back on her life is probably a good thing to do, since she’s near the end of it now.

I wince audibly. I promised myself I wouldn’t think like that.

Settling into the hospital chair, I start at the beginning.