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 ^{(it's beta!)}

I didn’t have long to live, they said.

‘Rubbish!’ was all mum could say. She never had dealt with it well, always in denial. She’s the kind of person who thinks if you ignore a problem it will go away.

The cancer had reached my brain, they said. That was when mum stopped denying and started crying. I don’t know which I found worse. Leah’s expression didn’t change the whole time they were talking. I think she had already known well before all of them. She didn’t seem shocked, just resigned and kind of sad. It was like she had realised long ago there was nothing she could do about it. Now she just tried to keep going, doing her best with what we’d been given. That’s why I love Leah. She’s so strong and dependable. Never quits, infallible. Sometimes I think she should have been the older sister.

Because the truth is, I’m kind of scared. I know that sounds silly. I mean, of course I’m scared. I’d just been told I was about to die! But with the amount of time I’d spent in hospital, all the odds stacked against me, all the ‘slight chance that I would live to be past 13,’ speeches, you would think that I would be prepared for death. This is something that has chased me half my life and yet I still haven’t accepted it. Really, 15 isn’t that old at all. I should still have a whole life to live! The more I lie here and think about it, the angrier I get. The unfairness of it all makes my blood boil. No one should have to go through something like this!

I turn to look at mum’s tired face, imprinted on one side with the pattern of the chair she was sleeping in. As soon as they had been told I wouldn’t live my family had started taking shifts. That was three days ago, and they were all exhausted. Then I realised that I shouldn’t be angry. It could be millions of times worse. It could be mum or dad or even my tough Leah facing this fear. Really I’m lucky. I won’t be the one left behind.

And that thought cuts me. And the pain is different to all the ones I’ve encountered these past few years. It goes deeper, an exploding feeling in my chest. How will mum cope? She cried for days when the dog died!

How could I do this to her? And again it comes back to anger. Instead the anger is directed internally. I was the one leaving them all to deal with it, pick up the pieces.

The doctor had said four days, at the most. If they were right tomorrow is my last. Dad doesn’t want me to spend it in here. He’s trying to organise something for tomorrow. I don’t know how they’ll let me; I can barely sit up anymore. I guess they could borrow a wheelchair. The thought makes me shudder.

I think of all the pain that has accompanied these years and nothing can compare to it now. Leaving everyone behind.

I don’t even realise I’m crying until I taste the tears in my mouth.

I wipe them angrily with the back of my hand. Stupid. I’d promised myself no more crying.

I am vaguely aware that my thoughts are jumping erratically and I laugh in spite of myself. Maybe it was some sort of side effect or something? That makes me laugh harder. I stifled the sound with my hands so I wouldn’t wake mum. I felt so messed up, crying and laughing at the same time.

I ran my hands over the crisp, white sheets -much more my bed than the one at home- noting their coarseness and trying to search for something else to think of. Surely dwelling on the present wasn’t helping the messed up feelings I was getting.

But what else is there to think of?

My mind wandered, back past the memories of chemo and the beginning stages of the cancer to a time when all this was just another person’s life. Someone you saw on ‘A Current Affair’ or read about somewhere in a soppy women’s magazine.

‘It’s freezing!’ screeched Leah, always the first in.

I hesitated on the beach, not really a fan of the cold. I stood just at the spot where the tiny waves could almost reach me. They stretched out, almost touching my toes, but not quite.

Daddy ran pat me, scooping up Leah on his way. The air was filled with her joyful protests and his big booming laughs as he waded in, waist deep.

The sun was making a strange orange glow, turning the clouds a vivid pink as it set on the horizon. It felt like we were the only people in the whole world. I turned my eyes from the sunset to watch Daddy throw a hysterical Leah into the almost flat ocean. She resurfaced, trying to control her laughs enough so she could catch her breath. I grinned. This had been the best holiday ever.

The seagulls wheeled and called above me and I smiled up at them too.

I hate it when people say seagulls are the rats of the sea. To me they have a strange beauty, resilience.

Mum walked slowly down the beach, holding her shoes. She was so dreamy it almost made her fragile. She glanced up and beamed when she saw me watching. Seeming like she wasn’t really sure where she was going, she made her way slowly over to me. She glanced up and noticed the Seagulls too.

‘Beautiful, aren’t they?’ she laughed, ‘Shame they’re really so dirty.’

I laughed as well, for the sake of it.

‘Well, I guess if you put it like that…’ I trailed off.

‘C’mon you chickens!’ Called Dad, waving from the water.

‘Yeah, buck buck!’ Chirped Leah, always the younger sister. Mum looked down and took my hand.

‘Shall we?’ she asked, her breathy voice mockingly serious.

‘Of course!’ I answered, trying to keep a straight face. We strode into the water together, still holding hands.

I sat up with a start, trying to orientate myself. The memories of the previous night washed over me and I felt strangely content. I smiled to myself and felt my muscles were slightly stiff with the unused expression. I realised how long it had been since I, or even any of my family had really smiled.

I looked over at mum -still asleep in the chair- sadly. The contrast to her face now and the one I remembered on the beach was shocking. I would barely recognise her if I hadn’t watched the change myself. Maybe we could go back to the beach again today, if I was allowed out of the hospital. I wouldn’t even mind going in a wheelchair if I just got to see mum laugh again.

Leah and I were talking when mum and dad came into the room. I opened my mouth to ask whether or not I was allowed to leave the hospital when I noticed the nurse behind them. She was pushing a wheelchair.

‘Beach it is?’ I asked, trying not to show my disgust.

Dad grinned.

Pushing a wheelchair across sand is hard. Though dad was trying not to show it, I could tell that it wasn’t working.

‘You know what dad? Just carry me.’ I was sick of the stupid wheelchair anyway, even though there was no one else on the beach I still felt enormously embarrassed.

‘Sure thing, honey. Good idea.’ He stopped the wheelchair and scooped me up into his arms effortlessly. As though I didn’t weigh anything. He strode down the beach, mum and Leah trailing behind. He stopped right at the spot I remembered I stood years ago, and placed me on the ground. He propped a pillow up behind me, so I could sit up.

‘Dad, it will get all dirty.’ I protested. He ignored me. Leah came to sit on my right, mum on my left. Dad sat next to Leah.

‘Kodak moment.’ I snickered impulsively. Leah, mum and dad all joined in.

The seagulls wheeled and called above us and we all looked up. I smiled, happy. They reminded me of the freedom of that last holiday. How different it was to now. We all sat there, just holding hands and watching the seagulls.

Waves of emotion crashed over me. I was sad, but strangely accepting at the same time. It was okay.

It was okay.

I realised that. I needed to be as strong as Leah and accept the inevitable. I had my family and I needed to move on so they could. I was lucky in a way. I have had the chance to spend the last day together, happy. Some other people didn’t get that chance. Some other people weren’t so lucky as to be forewarned. At least I got to say goodbye. I leaned my head against Leah’s shoulder and gave in. I let the looks on everyone’s faces replay themselves over and over in my mind, to tired to keep my eyes open.

I let the blackness claim me.