From Dusk to Dust (Destiny Fan Fiction)

3-The Weak Stands Strong

I'm at the edge of the world.

Where do I go from here?

Do I disappear?

Edge of the world.

Should I sink or swim?

Or simply disappear?

Music blared into Tanis' eardrums as he laid sprawled across his bed. His mind got lost in the world the song put him in. It spoke to him. Connected with him on a personal level. He was on the edge of the world and he knew it wouldn't last.

Tanis coughed and felt his weak bones shake. He moved his hand to his mouth to cover his cough and found his skin extremely pale.

It was happening again.

He groaned and closed his eyes out of sheer despair. He would never forget the day his life changed forever.

His doctor took his dad outside for the news first. After hearing it, he couldn't even come back inside the hospital room. Tanis, at the age of fifteen, was left alone to hear the dreadful news. The doctor said it was Chronic Myeloid Leukemia, but all Tanis heard was death. He went through a ton of treatments and eventually got better, but then it came back.

He was terminally ill, and nothing could be done. The disease was caught three years too late. The symptoms never showed this time around and it only caused his imminent doom. He was going to be in stage three in the next few months, where the cancer would screw his system up in many ways. There was no point in getting treatment. None of it would make a difference. He took multiple medicines the doctor prescribed, but other than that, he was hopeless.

Tanis opened his chestnut brown eyes and forced himself to sit up. He hated remembering that day. He hated how his father wasn't there when the doctor told him. He hated too many things to count.

He glanced around his empty room. Gray walls, light brown carpet, a couple of ACDC and Metallica posters, and a desk in the corner accompanied by a chair and a charging laptop. That was it. The closet was half full of plain clothes. The room matched him. Empty. Bland. Unimportant.

Everything his dad made him feel.

His dad, Dr. Hardin, didn't care. He was too obsessed with his work to be an actual father. If you look up "Prick" in the dictionary, his name would probably be there. Time after time, Tanis tried to get his attention, and to no avail. Nothing seemed to be good enough.

Tanis practically raised himself after his mother left. His parents always fought and broke furniture. Those nights usually consisted of them screaming at each other and Tanis hiding in his bedroom. His mother couldn't stand being around his father, or Tanis for that matter, and decided to leave. Friends and partying seemed more important to her.

It didn't really matter anymore. Tanis hated them both for what they've done. Abandonment, neglect, oh, and how could he forget? They named him Tanis. They both set him up for a future of torture from kids and questions from teachers.

Some part of him felt like this was all his fault. He was terminally ill. Even after finding out, his father could care less. Maybe he wasn't a good enough son. That could be why his parents never spent time with him. Maybe the neglect rubbed off on him in a negative way and that's why he couldn't keep most of his friends. Or maybe it was just the fact that he was beginning to lose his hair and body functions. He wasn't sure anymore. Everything felt so overwhelming and complicated.

He just wanted to go back to the good old days when his parents got along and his life was great. Friends. Family. A future. He had the whole package.