One night I'm sitting on my owner's bedside table, watching her, hoping she is okay. I see her move around like crazy and hear her scream, she's in pain. She wakes up, still screaming. She grabs me off of her bedside table, while holding me she is still screaming. Her screaming is deafening, but I know she is in pain because I feel her pain as well. Her parents run in and try asking her what's wrong but there is only screams. I see her father scoop her up from her bed, her mother holds me. Within seconds, she's unconscious.
I'm resting on a little drawer set, listening to her fast breathing. She is connected to machines. I'm waiting, I'm waiting for her to wake up. I remember when she placed her bookmark inside page 261 (Chapter 21). Only fifty-two pages to go. I have shared her laughter and tears, now I'm the one who wants to cry. The doctor walks in with the results. I can't make out what he is saying to her parents, her mother is in her husband's chest crying. Her cancer has spread, I know it. This feeling of emptiness shatters my thoughts and feelings.
I can't stand but look at her while she is laying in the hospital bed. She looks so peaceful, with her honey blond hair in a tangled mess, pale skin and cold hands as her parents hold her hands. Being connected to her is how all stories should be with readers, saying quotes from books, learning the fascinations of characters, though they are only fictional, waiting for someone to flip through the pages of humour and sadness, it's all a waiting game. Scenarios like this only happen in a blue moon. This connection we have is powerful, unique and delightful.
Her cancer is in fact getting worse, somehow the doctor found cancer all around her whole body. What do I do? I don't get much time with her anymore. Deep within, I know it's not fair to her that's she is sick. Why can't I grow old with her? Why? I don't want her to die. I know she wants to live as well. Sigh. Resting on her now dusty bedside table next to her as she sleeps, I can hear that her breathing is weak. Please, please wake up. The door creeks open, I now see her possible treatment.
I remember when I was first given to her as a gift from her parents. Her mother found me on the floor in a bookstore. The long trip to the hospital as I could see the sick children. Her mother bringing me to her hospital bed and seeing her face for the first time was amazing. She was diagnosed with stage four bronchial cancer. The look in her daughter's eyes said everything, her big smile as I was placed into her arms. She hugged me tightly and never let go of me. When we were home, had begun the reading.
My owner reads me for a few chapters, she cries, laughs and come back for more. I'm getting close to be finished, and the closer I get to being finished, the more I feel like I have a purpose to be alive, a purpose that our last good day will be in fact just be a decent day. I mean, the author who wrote me made millions of copies which doesn't make me or them special. But being with my reader makes me feel special because of our bond that we share. The characters in my story feels like her.
She is laying on her couch hooked up to the chemo drip. She grabs me and continues reading from where she left off. As she reads she cries and laughs through the deaths and jokes. Finally she has gotten to the last chapter. As she reads my last chapter, there are more tears and not as much giggles. As she is finishing me her hands become shaky, the vibration feeling as if it's the end of her life wasn't the end. Once I am finished being read, she falls asleep while I'm in her arms. Her hands shaky and cold.
Her parents are sitting with her. They are spending every minute they can together which makes sense. She is still holding me and then I feel like I'm on a rollercoaster. She is losing her balance. Is this the end of my owner's life? I know it. BANG! Within seconds she is on the ground still holding me whispering "I love you". No. No, don't leave me please. I love you. Her mother finds her body on the tile floor, with me in her arms. Her mother kneels on the ground and cries. Her mother's tears fall onto my cover.
It's the day of her funeral. I'm in her mother's arms. The coffin is open. I see her father walk up to the coffin and kisses her forehead and says "we loved you dear and we will always love you". He then takes me from her mother and places me in my previous owner's cold dead hands. The coffin closes, I can hear a machine from outside the coffin. This is the end, just darkness and death. 'You gave me a forever within the number of days, and I'm grateful'. Thank you for reading me. 'Pain demands to be felt'.
