I have never heard of a fairytale starting out in a hospital. Or any story with a happy ending for that matter. If there is one, I'd love to hear it. However, until that time arises, I will believe that it is not a sign of the last words being, "Happily Ever After." Which makes sense because this is my life. I'll be just as happy if the last words of my story are, "That little crap. She actually lived."
If you haven't caught on by now, I'll fill you in. My story starts off in a very gloomy, very rundown, very cheap, hospital. If that wasn't a sad enough start for you, maybe you should let me continue.
My mother was dying.
Sad enough? Because I do aim to please. Or, at least, the Fates seem to use my life to fill the morbid pleas of others. Just dandy.
But, back to the cheerful present. My mom was lying on the bed in the only hospital we could afford. She used to be in a nice one three years ago, but she just kept getting worse and the treatments more expensive. Cancer takes a bite out of your health and your wallet. Lymphoma especially.
"Nooooo! I told you no! You can't have her. She's mine!" My hand instantly shot out and held my mothers flailing arms down.
"Shh, mama. It's okay. It's all okay. I'm right here." But I was lying. It wasn't okay. Allen Medical was where they sent you to wait for death when they knew the only daughter wouldn't have money to pay off her moms debts when she was gone.
I looked down at her as her grey, fogged over eyes fought off the nightmare her pain meds brought. "Erikka? You're still here? Shouldn't you be at school?" My mind flashed back to three years ago at the start of her treatment when she said the same thing everyday when I would skip to be with her. Eventually, she stopped asking and I stopped pretending to go.
But this was different now.
"I already went, remember mama?" I lied quickly to sooth her worry as I stared at her sadly. She used to be really beautiful. Her hair had been long and thick. She'd had chocolate brown beach waves naturally that I had constantly been jealous of, and grey eyes that both intimidated and intrigued.
My mom sighed, and relaxed against the bed. "Good. Good. They can't take you when you're with me. He promised." I was used to her mindless rambling about 'him' promising my safety. I assumed she meant my dad who had died in a car crash coming to get me from school when I was six. Ten years ago.
I wanted to tell her that he was dead, that she would see him soon, but what if she didn't realize what was happening anymore? Didn't realize how her skin clung loosely to her bones, and her tufts of hair littered the pillow? How her daughter would shatter into pieces the moment she died? I didn't want to break her reality.
The heart monitor beeped, and I just smiled at her. "No one is going to take me from you mom. We're a team, remember?" Remember. I said that word so much that it tasted stale and sad in my mouth.
"Team. Yes. A team." She started to drift off finally, when the door behind me clicked open.
"Miss Foster? I'm hear to treat your mother. My name is Dr. Wrink." The voice was gravely and I turned with a frown. Doctors didn't visit mom anymore. And especially not ones with a narcissistic smile like this one. They knew she was a goner. Only nurses came in and out to change her fluids, hook up her oxygen, and bring me some food out of pity.
His face looked like it'd had five too many Botox injections and fake purple contacts. "What did the funny man say, Rikki?" My mom asked sleepily, peering at the doctor.
YOU ARE READING
*[COMPLETED]* I believe that starting a story out in a hospital is not a sign of the last words being, "Happily Ever After." Which makes sense because this is my life. I'll be just as happy if the last words of my story are, "That little crap. She...