Zekdil40: Cancer Isn't Ugly, It's Just an Ugly Word

168 3 0
                                                  

   Cancer.

   It tore us apart. Sure, he might survive, but what if he doesn't? I've been praying, praying to every god I can find in the stars of the night and the clouds of the day. But I know better.

Grow distant enough to know that as far as our efforts go we don't always get a reply.

   "Martin?" he whispered. I looked at him, tears threatening to escape my eyes, and nodded in recognition. He gave me a weak smile back. "I just want you to know that if I don't make it through this, it won't be your fault." I nodded again. His smile widened. I couldn't take it. Every day and night I prayed, but nothing seemed to get better, and we both knew it. It would be a miracle if he survived. And we aren't ones for miracles.

But I swear to whatever god I can find in the time I have left, I'm gonna remember you, kid.

   I picked up the small blade when he wasn't looking and walked away silently. The cool metal felt refreshing against my skin. Why? Because it was the only thing still stable in my life. The only thing that kept me going. Even the promise of life forever together with John was dwindling away. I pressed down until beads of blood formed. One by one, small cuts made their way into my skin until I realised I was spelling a name. Something only the fans ever used, and yet it was most important to me now.

"Zekdil."

   I remembered the day. The day he told me. The day he was brave, even though for years I wasn't. He came to my house one day. Said he was on vacation, but I could tell he wasn't. His smile gave it away. He told me the struggle getting there, not knowing enough Bulgarian to even ask for directions to the next street. I remember his laugh, almost like music. Then he got down on one knee. I had never thought of it. "Go slow," he always told me when I asked for advice. "Let her get to know you." I just never said it was him. Then there he was, ring in hand, proposing to me. I remember the cheers of the neighbors who knew me, the salty taste of the tears streaming down my cheeks. I remember the expression on his face when I said yes. It couldn't be described as happiness. I knew that expression. It was love.

Gonna tell your story as often as every story you told me,

   The phone rang from outside of the room I had locked myself in. I looked at my cuts. They had stopped bleeding, but we're still red. I slipped my sleeves over them and grabbed the phone.

"Hello, this is Martin Petrov speaking."

"Mr. Petrov, we have some important news. We were looking over Mr. Morin's charts and would like to say..."

   There it was. The moment when I was certain that my life would be ripped to shreds. The moment that our forever was cut short. The moment the girl on the other end of the line told me there was no chance of him living.

"...that he has a one-hundred percent chance of surviving."

   I nearly died of happiness then and there. I composed myself long enough to mutter a quick thank you, threw down the phone, and broke down. But this time, I wasn't crying because my life was being torn apart. I was crying because it was being stitched back together. I heard John race into the room and kneel beside me. He was going to ask if I was alright, but then his eyes met mine.

And every time I tell it I'll say

"They've given you a one-hundred percent chance of survival."

   He smiled and grabbed my hand. Our fingers laced together as we sat side-by-side. We didn't need a sunset to watch. We watched each other. "I guess we really do have forever, huh?" he whispered.

"Yes. We do."

"Thank you for being brave, Martin. You were the one thing that kept me going."

"Don't thank me just yet," I mumbled.

   He looked at me, puzzled as to what I could mean. Then his hand touched my wrist, and I winced. He gingerly picked it up and pulled back my sleeve. "Zekdil?" he murmured. A tear slipped down my face once again as I nodded. He put my arm around his shoulder and his around mine. He leaned against me, and, for once, I could really be there for him. "I'll never leave you Martin. I'll be with you forever."

"See? There's bravery in this world."

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Two in one night... I'm going to die of feelz...

Aleatoraye, does this poem sound familiar...?

Seems as if you gave someone inspiration.

I applaud you.

And thank you.

And now to everyone else...

Did you like the format? I kinda did... If you have any other ideas (or just enjoyed it) please comment!

Vote for more sadness and feelz (or maybe a happy one of I'm in a good mood) in this book.

-Lyssie

One Shots: My Mind at its StrangestWhere stories live. Discover now