I began to formulate a plan about an hour after the big news hit. I knew the utmost secrecy was imperative to the success of the mission, so I never told my parents or even Sarah. I almost felt bad, but I knew it was a horrible idea to let anyone in on the secret. I simply asked my parents if they could bring my computer over the next day they visited and started to make friends with the assistant nurse down the hall.

She was nice enough, willing to do whatever I asked her if I called her beautiful. I knew it was wrong, but this was a matter past life and death, and I felt like I could get away with being a little selfish.

Sandra gave me what information I needed to know, even brought out a wheelchair so I could wheel myself around. It was from her that I found it might be possible for a cancer patient such as myself to live without medical technology outside the hospital, and it was her who managed to get me a hearing aid. I felt bad knowing I was going to betray her, but I didn't want to die in those blinding white walls. 

Even if dying anywhere else meant I only had one month instead of three.

The last step was to write a little letter to my parents and one for Sarah as well. She didn't deserve being abandoned without any word from me. She was like a sister to me, and I could never do that her. She had barely visited me, but that was okay. I wouldn't want her last image of me to be of a frail body wasting away. It was better this way.

When my parents left for the night on my fourth night in the hospital, I pulled out some pen and paper that Sandra secured for me. My hand shook uncontrollably as I said my last good-bye to the people I cared the most about. I tried to get a hold of myself when I realized that I couldn't read what was there, making me scrap it and start again. I heard the door open right as I tried to make a third attempt.

Quickly, I concealed the pen and paper under my pillow, but I must not have been fast enough because they definitely saw.

They being Sarah.

I was surprised to see her, to say the least. I thought I was done with visits for the night. She looked as though she had been crying pretty hard, making my heart drop into an abyss of guilt and grief. She came over to my bed without saying anything and grabbed my hand, sobbing soundlessly. When she had gotten a good look at my hollowed-out features, she let her head collapse next to my legs, letting out her pain that she had been holding inside. I used my other hand to stroke her hair, not saying anything. There was nothing to say.

After a while she calmed down and looked at me one more time before reaching under my pillow to take out what I had hidden. I did nothing to stop her. Part of me knew she was already wise to my escape plan, and part of me didn't care. 

She read it slowly, deciphering my chicken-scratch handwriting. This version was, in the very least, readable, though the tear stains on the page and creases in the paper didn't make it easy. She said nothing when she was done, choosing to maintain our comfortable silence for a while longer. 

"Are you leaving now, Charlie?"

Her question startled me, even though I thought I was prepared for it. I knew it was coming. I was waiting for it, even. But coming from her mouth, broken and dejected...it startled me.

"Yes."

"Then let's go."