The Scars of Our Faults: A Sequel to "The Fault in Our Stars" {DISCONTINUED}

Chapter 3

I hate this. It seems like it's been eternity.

Well, I guess this is eternity. No life. No purpose. No love. Really nothing.

Am I waiting for something? Will it come soon? Or will it just be like this forever?

It's shifty. And I don't like shifty. I like stable. That was the one of the things I actually liked about being alive despite having cancer: stability.

Having my illness, and even during remission, people around me were stable and they kept me grounded. They always said the right things, through good news and bad. And they knew how to comfort me when the depression kicked in.

I think they did it so that I could keep my sanity while fighting, but then,  I don't really know what happened behind closed doors.

If it ever ends, it won't be soon enough.

...

I was in a rehabilitation facility today. My stay seemed like forever. It hurt being there because it reminded me of home.

My home.

It was a children's rehabilitation facility, I hinted from the numerous toys and colorful miniature tables and chairs all over the place. Rehabilitation for what, I don't know. The kids that might've been here were obviously being treated for something, something that probably affected mental or emotional aspects due to the several Encouragements all over the place.

Encouragements. Like what mom and dad had at home. Not identical replicas, but they were still Encouragements.

There is always hope one read. You can't have a rainbow, without a little rain another said.

Ever since being here, being dead, I've never felt a pang of genuine melancholy or ecstasy but rather emptiness, but that was the first time I felt myself sobbing. I nestled myself on one of the blue rubber mats on the floor and just sobbed. I don't feel the tears but I feel the ache.  I was drowning in a pool of severe nostalgia.I don't know how long I sat there but I just bawled; I miss home, but the awful reality of never going back pains me.

I've never really loved the Encouragements back home, but seeing them in the children's facility makes me long for their tangible comfort, they never made promises but they instilled hope that even if there was but a 1-in-a-million chance that I would be fully cured from my Osteosarcoma, that chance was still within reach though hard to achieve.

Now I just beg whatever higher power that has me trapped in this afterlife to give me a little piece of home. Anything.

I know my memories are slowly fading. Some things about being alive, I've already forgotten. Like Isaac's high score in The Price of Dawn. Or the taste of my mother's cooking.Or what Hazel Grace smelled like.

So that's just all I ask. A little piece of me. While the rest of me shatters into distant memories and completely disappears, I just need one solid piece of me to remain.