Interlinked

Chapter 23

Dedicated to FatimaBsh because she da bish. lmao.

Chapter 23:

    Days went by, and I suffered to go to school because I was having massive chest pain and, because of the emotional destruction I keep on having whenever I wake up and remember that I’m having my first therapy session with every day that fades in then out as to speed up the process. And because of my numerous visits to the hospital where they’re helping me get ready for the Chemotherapy.

  It’s funny actually. Looking around and feeling judged by everyone around you because of the way their eyes scan you up and down, even though you are able to read the sadness over powering them.

Ironic, frankly, because you want to show people that you are happy, and that you didn’t change along with the wind, but it’s not always smiles and rainbows that awaits for you at the other side. 

Feeling every motion spinning quickly under my feet, holding every breath in and not wanting to let it out. The droplets of thoughts pitter patter on my skull, asking for entrance, wanting a friend and someone to understand, with hopes of finding a place for damage in this mad world.

 “It will be better this way,” mom whispers as she rests her hands on my shoulders while I stare thoroughly at my reflection in the mirror. I place my hand on hers, and take in a sharp breath, praying harder with every batting eyelash. “I know it’s hard, and you wish that it’s just one big, fat, nightmare, and I wish for that as well but we can’t run away from it if we know that we can fight it while we’re able to.”

  “I’m scared, mom.” I whisper and avert my eyes from the elongated mirror in my room as I turn around to stare frightened, and into her eyes. “I don’t want people to look at me in a way that will…” 

“Pity you?” She reads my mind and I slowly nod, feeling as if my soul is replaced with that of a little afraid child. “I don’t know what they might think of you or even say about you, but all that I see is a strong lady, standing right in front of me.” She places a hair-lock behind my ear ever so slow, and I embrace the pure affection that’s traveling from her beautiful touch.

 “I’m sorry for everything,” my lips quiver, and I press them together as I inhale deeply and prevent the tears from breaking free.

“Don’t apologize for anything. That’s not the girl I raised.” She playfully touches my nose and weak giggles leave my lips. I remove my eyes away from her visage and instead focus on the rolled white sheet that’s placed still behind the two of us.

“Let’s just start, okay?” I force a smile on my face, and my heart starts beating faster as we kneel down to grab the rolled up cover before we spread it in front of the mirror.

  Taking a chair from my desk and placing it right in front of the mirror, I seat myself down and then cover my upper body with a large navy blue towel while mom turns on the electric shaver. My heart leaps at the notion of the shaver getting closer and closer.

 “Are you ready?” Mom heavily breathes out, and I push the nugget that’s forming in the back of my throat down, and inhaling deeply. I listen to the low sobs that are escaping from my shaky lips.

  “Just, make it quick.” I close my eyes, and wait impatiently for this to end.

I tense up when I feel the hair on my head being mercilessly cut, while listening carefully to the horrendous voice that drills and makes its way into my inner ear, for I cannot help it anymore. I just see myself, the little child who used to play with her imaginary friends, the teenager who wanted to go through it all, and compare those two to the one I am shading my eyes away from, because I hate it. I despise this, and I don’t want to show people courage I don’t have. Out of nowhere, I open an eye, and notice how half of my head is now shaved as a wave of embarrassment makes its way in my body. I allow the tears to roll down my face, with no regrets and no desire of pretending anymore.