DreamNotFound Rule one, don't expect to wake up in the morning.

Rule 1 - Don't expect to wake up in the morning.

I love you.

The three most important words to say to someone when you're time is running out quickly, too fast for comfort.

Rule one, don't expect to wake up in the morning, but be grateful when you do.

*George's pov*

Mornings were getting colder as winter approached. Golden light barely broke the horizon as dawn arrived. The cool autumn breeze sends chills down my spine as I look down at my phone to check the time.

-5:03am-

Looking up with annoyance and saying one last goodbye to the sliver of light in the distance, I gather my things and slowly descend down the hill. Dragging my feet I begin my walk home. As I approached my house the overwhelming sense of dread washes over me as I have to go back to the only place I hate in, life school. Forgetting its 5:30, I casually open the door until I hear the hinges give off a sound similar to nails on a chalkboard.

"Shit."

 I whisper to myself.

I can just imagine the anger on my moms face if she saw me coming in from outside when its 20 degrees out. Probably going slower than a tortoise at this point I turned the knob and shut the door, speed tip toeing back to my room. Tempted to lay back in my bed, I throw my pillows from the floor onto the comfy mattress and walk to the bathroom.

... almost scared to look up, not wanting to see my reflection, when I do my stomach contracts and churns. I hate the sight of me. Bags under my eyes from never getting enough sleep, the tube coming from my nose constantly forcing artificial air down my airways and into my lungs just in case they decide to stop working. I don't blame my parents for giving me this genetic disease. I just wonder sometimes why me. Couldn't the being up above give someone else cystic fibrosis? Knowing you probably wont live past 27 is scary man. Twisting the lid open, I pop two spheres of anti worry meds down my throat. Wash them down with water, shut off the light, and close the door.

- 6:55 -

George lets go, you're going to be late!

Groaning, I grab my bag and run down the stairs.

George, honey, please don't run, you'll waste air.

Sorry mom I say with a frown.

She gives me a heart warming smile as I grab my bag and keys. With a kiss on the cheek I shut the door behind me and unlock my car. Its only a five minute drive but I hate every second of it. Normally, I would jam out to music and sing at the top of my lungs. But no. Its dead silent. An uncomfortable silence, the kind of silence everyone hates, the kind of silence full of fear. I park the car between the painted yellow lines, hesitating to open the door. When I do I grab my backpack and stare. I'm back at the one place I dread dearly. Taking a deep breath I force myself to lift my feet one after another leading me into hell.