Her Last Wish

I don't know where I am.

And to make matters worse it's pitch black.

My legs can't support me much longer. At last, my feet give out and I hit the ground on my knees. My hands are trembling in fear. I just want this all to end. Everything.

I'm dripping in sweat. Partly, because I'm exhausted. And then because I was scared out of my mind. In times like this it seems easier to just give up. Many times I think we all ration the possibility. What keeps me going is the satisfaction of being able to say that I lived. That yes I went through a lot of crap but I made it out anyway. I strive to be that person one day. Just not this moment.

Everybody reaches their highest point at some time. This was me giving up. Because, I honestly could not live anymore. Not like this. I threw the rest of my body onto the ground in surrender. I lay there weak and dehydrated. Everything inside me told me to do something. Run. Hide. Cry. Suicide. But I couldn't. None of those happened because I lay there limply with a blank mind. I felt nothing but felt it all at the same time. I didn't have to think about why I was so angry or sad. I knew why, I felt why. And I had seen this moment coming for a long time. So I lay quietly shaking. Maybe I was cold. Or maybe I was frightened still. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing .

My eyes start to close without warning. And a chain of flashbacks appear and all my memories come back to me. Screw the emphasis of nothing now. It's exactly how people describe it. Your life flashes before your eyes.

My mother left me. I was six years old when it happened. That day we were supposed to go the fair. I'd been anticipating that day for weeks. She had promised me I'd finally get to ride the ferris wheel.

I see an image of us arriving and she crouches down to look at me. She gives me a small smile and tells me to wait at the cotton candy booth while she gets tickets. So I do as she says.

Hours go by until it dawns me. She is never coming back. She has left me. Abondoned me.

I start crying at that point. How can a mother do that to her own daughter? Lie to me? Abondon me? She must have had no heart. Because no mother could ever do that to her daughter. I hate all of this. All of it. Every despising moment. It's like I'm living through it all again.

A voice interrupts my thoughts. A woman's face appears. Her head is tilted to the side in confusion. I can't hear what she's saying. So I pay attention to her appearance instead. Hair so silky in a beautiful shade of brown that it appears unreal. Her face is soft and delicate. Parts of her face wrinkle as she talks. Everything about this woman is so different to me. She isn't wearing a cake on her face. Nor does she have an outrageous hairdo. She isn't dressed fancy either. The woman was so simple and that made everything about her so fascinating. And her name, was Mary.

Mary took me into her home that day. She loved and cared for me. I grew up to love her as well. She was the only mother to me. As I became older, so did she. Her disease caught on and caused us much grief. We lost our house and had to settle on a rented room. We barely made it through each day. With Mary being in the hospital and me juggling two jobs a day to put food on the table, pay medical bills, and pay rent. I wouldn't have been able to pay for it all but Mary's retirement money helped. Mary was so optimistic and she believed that things would eventually work out in our favor. But I knew better than to hope for false dreams. Something that could never happen. Time was running out and I couldn't be optimistic, not now. It was time to face reality. Life would pass me by if I didn't.

As Mary laid in her hospital bed, we both knew. Mary didn't have much time. She took her hands in mine. Softly she began to rub her thumb against my hand in attempts to soothe me. More than anything I wanted her to take me with her. How was I supposed to live without her? All I knew was Mary. Everything she taught me. Mary was all I had. Tears threatened to leave my eyes but I gulped them down. I was shaking at this point. Refusing to let Mary's last vision of me to be a sad one.

There was silence and her eyes shut close. I stiffened. No, I thought. No, oh God no, please no. My eyes frantically searched her face for any vital signal. I started to choke up afraid. I'm sure it was only a few seconds but it felt like decades to me. I thought she'd gone. Her eyes slowly opened. And my eyes teared up with joy because I could have her for a few seconds more. I prepared for the worst. I looked fear straight in the eye. I'm ready, I thought. Her mouth barely opening, she told me her last words. And with that her hand slid from mine and dropped limply to the bed.

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This of course is only a mere introduction of what is to come. I think the main focus for the entire story was pretty obvious from the title. Except, I wanted to express how much Mary means to Camille. So anyway, I hope nobody was too confused at the beginning. I decided to give the story an unsuspected pilot. The story however doesn't reveal why she is on the grasp of death until later into the story so I'm sorry. Hope this has cleared some confusion that might have come up.

Have a lovely day and thank you so much for reading!

- Victoria

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