terminal » ls au

Nothing is a matter of life and death except life and death. -Angela Carter

When Harry was fifteen he was diagnosed with stage two Lymphoma.

He’d been complaining of headaches and abdominal pain off and on again over the months. Sometimes he’d be coughing up a storm or even sit at the bottom of the stairs because he claimed he didn’t have the strength to walk up. His mother let him stay home from school a few times; Harry had a tendency of trying to get out of going.

It was when Anne noticed the swelling in his neck and parts of his face that she finally decided it was no joke.

She’d rushed him to the hospital and had the doctor check him over.  The doctor had seemed confused at first before calling in another doctor to check on Harry. Both Harry and his mum got worried with each passing minute; whatever was going on clearly wasn’t good.

After the doctor had convinced Anne to let him give Harry a CT scan, he returned with a grim look on his face.

Anne cried when she heard the news.

Harry didn’t quite get it at first. He didn’t understand, really. Sure, he’d heard about cancer and all but he never thought he’d be one to actually get it. And as he sat in that plastic chair that fateful May morning, it finally occurred to him that he could die. Harry could die from this Lymphoma thing, and it was in that moment his life changed forever.

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“Students, I’m happy to announce that we will be soon starting a school-wide fundraiser,” Harry’s English teacher, Mrs. Copeland, spoke to the class. She had a slight smile on her face as she sat on top of her desk, her legs crossed and her hands resting on her knees.

“We will be raising money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma society,” she continued, “To raise money for research that could potentially save lives.”

Harry immediately turned pale and slid down in his seat. He didn’t want to be seen. He couldn’t believe, that of all fundraisers, the school had chosen that one. To say he was embarrassed would be an understatement.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Copeland?” A girl sitting in the front of the room raised her hand. “Why did you decide to run this fundraiser?”

“Good question, Cathy!” Mrs. Copeland’s eyes roamed around the room before settling on Harry’s. “We happen to have a student who is suffering from the disease, and we thought that raising money in his name would be a fabulous idea.”

Harry wanted to disappear.

Who had given her the audacity to put Harry on the spotlight about his condition? He’d kept it on the down-low for a while, not telling anyone except the school nurse about it. The fact that she’d decided to tell the whole classroom and run a fundraiser for him was completely astonishing to Harry. He didn’t want their empathy; he wanted to be left alone.

A brunette beside him raised her hand. “I think that it’d be a great idea for us to learn about the disease. Maybe if we do we’ll feel obligated to get more donations because we know what it actually feels like.”

And she agrees. Mrs. Copeland, now Harry’s least favorite teacher, actually fucking agrees. The brunette turns to him and shoots him an innocent smile, a taunting gleam in her eye. Harry has to blink away tears.

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When Harry was sixteen, he was no longer allowed to go to school.