One Year Left (Niall Horan)

Horrors

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I would say something about this chapter, but that would spoil it. Just read.

I look up as the nurse walks to us, along with the doctor. I would stand and greet him, but I can't trust my legs to stay standing. The solemn look on their faces makes me unsure that I can trust my voice to talk for me. I close my eyes, waiting for their news. "Mr. Horan, Mr. Styles, Mr. Tomlinson, Mr. Malik, Mr. Payne, Miss Edwards, Miss Calder, and Miss Elton; I have an update. It'll be the last update." A flurry of fear and hope whirls inside of me. He said it will be the last update, os that either means she's alive and well enough to go home, or . . . no. There can't be an or. She has to be okay.

The nurse is smiling, but I can't tell if it's a sympathetic smile, or a smile that brings good news. I desperately want it to be the latter. "Miss Reed was progessing very well," he says. Was, was. She was. "We were very hopeful she would survive this." Were. "She was almost ready to return home, but something tragic happened that resulted in her relapsing, and the relapse caused her to pass away. We are still trying to figure out what happened that caused the relapse."

Most of the time when bad news comes in a movie or a book, it starts with "We regret to inform you,". It didn't. I wish it would have, because then I would have prepared myself for it as he spoke. Because then I would have believed him; wouldn't have demanded to see her. Because then I could have just pretended she was sleeping. Because then I wouldn't have to have everything rush back, all of the memories, and wouldn't have to feel guilty that she died with an argument fresh in her memories.

Because then I could have still had hope.