As the Wind Blows [A Niall Horan Love Story]

Chapter 1

"You... you have cancer, Rae. I'm sorry."

I felt the world crumble beneath me, sitting on the hospital bed, wearing that cold, plastic gown. My ears started to ring, my vision went blurry, my mouth felt numb.

"We're going to start treatment right away, we're going to fight this off. My team and I, we'll do the best we can."

I tried to listen to the doctors words but they were reaching my ears as fast as they were leaving them.

I only managed to mumble out a few words "Am I going to die?"

The doctor sat down next to me, resting his hand on the small of my back. "We don't want you to, no. So that is why we are going to start chemotherapy next week. You're going to live in the hospital until you recover."

"If I recover." I whisper.

~~~

I jolt awake in my bed, drenched in my sweat. I quickly rip the soaked sheets off of me and stand up in my dark room. The alarm clock reads 5:07... great. Might as well start getting ready for school now, knowing I most definitely won't be able to go back to sleep. I pad across my bedroom floor and find the lightswitch in my bathroom. The reflection in the mirror shows a sickly, pale, bald girl with purple bruises under her eyes. I gasp at the reflection squeeze my eyes closed.

"Rae... that isn't you anymore." I tell myself.

I open my eyes and look back at the mirror. The sick girl is replaced with a glowing, tan face. Her lips are pink, her eyes are a bright blue. Golden, caramel hair cascades down the sides of her face and reaches just below her shoulders. I let out a long breath.

I shiver as I strip off my damp pajamas. I've had that nightmare almost every night since I found out I was diagnosed with Acute Lymphotic Leukemia three years ago. I was fifteen... I just finished 9th grade. I was excited for the summer, ready to hangout with my two best friends... until I passed out on the car ride back from the beach.

The cancer lasted two years, and boy, was it hell. I vomited from the chemotherapy, all my hair fell out, I was miserable. My brother, Tommy, was always by my side, and I loved him for it. He was the one to take care of me while my single, alcoholic mother got drunk at the bar and forgot her only daughter was in the hospital, sitting in her cancerous state of misery.

The doctors told me I would survive. 80% of patients recover from the cancer... it just took longer than I expected. My friends stopped by once a week to drop off homework and my tutor, Mrs. Sheffields, would come and teach me the things I should have been learning in a proper educational evironment.

My two best friends, Regina and Scarlette, visited me in the beginning, but then came less and less until I barely saw them anymore. I knew they would rather go off and hang out with their healthy friends radiating with cancer-free blood, but at least I saw them when they dropped off my assignments.

I shake my head to rid myself of the memories of living in that hospital bed. I've been cancer free for a year now. My hair is back, I'm at a normal weight, and I'm healthy. I always keep that terrifying thought in the back of my mind that the cancer can come back, though.

I stand underneath the hot water running from the shower head. It washes off all the sweat and recounts of my nightmare. I always wish that one night I just won't have it anymore... but my subconcious tells me that isn't so.

I step out of the shower and quickly grab a towel to cover my dripping body. I walk back into my room to see that it is now 5:40. I was in the shower longer than I expected.

After changing into a pair of ripped up skinny jeans and a plain black tee shirt, I look in the mirror once more. I've been at school for a month now. I'm a senior, and I don't enjoy it. Everyone tells you, "Senior year is the best year of your life. It makes up for the past three years." Well, yeah, but not when you spent all of 10th and 11th grade in a hospital.

I sigh at the thought of going to school. I missed out on everything. I don't know what it feels like to be a regular girl. I've never had a boyfriend, never been kissed actually, which is pretty sad since I'm eighteen years old. I never got to go to winter formal, or homecoming, but I know for sure I won't go this year. And everyone pities me. It's not like I'm walking around the halls wearing a bandana with tubes up my nose. "How are you Rae?" "Are you feeling well, Rae?" "Do you need help with your homework?" I'm sick of it all. I always just give them a fake smile and reassure them that I was tutored and that I don't have cancer anymore, I'm just like them. They never seem to understand, though.

Before going downstairs, I grab for my makeup bag. I never used to wear makeup, but after looking like death because of my illness, I wear it. Eyeliner, mascara, light eyeshadow sometimes. I cover up my eyes. I like to mask away the thought of my bruised eyelids and colorless irises during my misery that is called Leukemia.

I bound down the staircase at 6:00 and head into the kitchen. There I find my mother, passed out on the counter, with a bottle of whiskey in her hand. Really mom? I don't understand why she doesn't wait for the weekends to get drunk.

She's an alcoholic. Oh yeah, I forgot.

I roll my eyes at the pathetic mess of hair that sprawls across the granite.

"Mom..." I shake the un-moving body. "Mom!"

"Leave me the fuck alone." she grumbles.

"I'm going to school now... I'll see you when I get back." I tell her as I grab a muffin from the top of the refridgerator.

She swats her hand at me, telling me 'okay'. I huff at her and swing my backpack over my shoulder.

As I step out the front door, the crisp October wind blows on my cheeks. I can smell the autumn in the air. It's always been my favorite season. The leaves crunch under my feet as I walk to my car, and I try to remind myself to maybe enjoy school today. I could have it worse... I could be back in the hospital bed.