As soon as we step foot through the door, mom and dad are expecting us. I can't stand to see them in so much pain and worry.
Mom puts her hand over her mouth as she's holding back tears. Dad pulls her into an embrace that could last a lifetime, looking distraught himself. They're just relieved that I am alive.
Soon, I won't be able to give them that sense of consolation. My family will be left without me, without my daunting disease. Maybe it's for the best.
Their suffering will stop and, they'll eventually get over my death. I try not to think about dying that often, but it's hard when every second of my life is a gamble.
Grant is holding me in his arms so tightly, I can hear his heart pounding through his chest.
Thump, thump, thump.
What if people could constantly hear their hearts beating? Some may get tired of it after a while, saying it's repetitive and annoying. I'd say that it's a blessing, knowing you're alive. It's an accomplishment that you have gotten through another day. I wish I could hear my heartbeat. That way, I would never take it for granted because when it stops, all you want is for it to start again, and to resume its annoying rhythm.
Thump, thump, thump.
God, how I love that sound.
I can feel Grant carrying me up the stairs. My parents are walking behind us, whispering something to each other. I don't pay attention. I know it's something that I don't want to hear.
My limp body against the warm sheets feels like heaven. I drift away to the sweet sound of my Mom humming me a tune. Her arms are like a shield protecting me from harm. For the first time in a long time, I feel safe, at peace.
Almost...