Here is a lovely long chapter for you guys!

Also look for the <> for where to listen to the song.

Enjoy!

Darla H

The next day I still laid in my hospital bed, counting down the minutes until I could leave. Currently, I was told that they could release me tomorrow if I was lucky. But that's always the keyword, lucky. I never was. Knowing my luck, I would be here for another three more days or worse, I would just die in this bed.

My parents hadn't talked at all about me stopping treatment since last night. Even though they dropped by this morning for a while, they never brought up the hard conversation that needed to be had. I think they thought I would forget about our disagreement and they would sign off on the paperwork, sending me away without my knowledge. This put me on edge and kept my guard up as I asked the nurses if my parents signed off on anything, knowing that they would be honest.

To save me from my anxiety, if my parents didn't bring the treatment option up today, then I will. We needed to finish this conversation. As hard as it would be, we needed to talk about it how I was going to die and what my last wishes were.

Farrah texted me a few times this morning, but I hadn't responded to any of her messages, as anger still dictated my actions. I was mad that she pulled away, and that she didn't talk to me like she used to. I was mad that she wasn't even here with mom and dad this morning. It made me feel unwanted. Did it matter to her that I was dying and she would never have her sister back? I guess not because she rather spend it with that new boy of hers.

I waited for a few hours for my parents to come back however with no sign of them; I spent my time reading, watching TV, trying to work on homework to distract myself. Finally in the evening, Peter tapped on the door frame with a smile on his face.

"Hey Clare," Peter said as he walked into my hospital room. His smile was larger than normal and it caught me off guard as he pulled out a bunch of flowers from behind his back and handed them to me. "For you." Behind him came a nurse with a cart full of more flowers, lighting up the room instantly.

I gave a small laugh in shock as I took the flowers from Peter. "What is this? Is this all from you?" I had never seen so many flowers in one place, except for the hospital flower shop, which made me wonder if he bought them out.

"The ones you're holding are mine. The rest are from the team. They missed you at the game last night," he said and sat down next to me, close enough that I could smell his cologne and body wash hinting that he just took a shower, which made sense because he must have come from practice.

I blushed. "Thank you. Tell that to everyone."

He kissed me lightly with a nod. "I was thinking since you can't go out on a date, I would bring it to you." He got up from his chair and walked out of the room seconds later he returned with a wheelchair for me.

I frowned at him, not sure if the nurses would allow me to go. Doctor Patel seemed persistent that I needed to stay in my room. I remembered this morning as I tried to leave, but he quickly put an end to that, saying something like he wanted me to be resting in a controlled environment.

"I already asked your nurse. She gave me the thumbs up."

I nodded at him with a small smile, knowing that I could always trust the nurses to have my back. It amazed me that he would go through the trouble to plan something like this, which was another reminder of why I didn't deserve him. I was just taking him away from someone that would be on this earth longer.

I carefully sat up straight and swung my legs over the bed, feeling the world spin. My feet touched the floor, and I felt my legs shake slightly under my weight. However, I took careful steps to the wheelchair that Peter was holding for me.

I got into the chair and suddenly felt a little too self-conscious that I was to the point that I couldn't even walk on my own for a long distance. Peter shouldn't be the one doing this for me. I was too young for this and he was too young to deal with this. He shouldn't spend his Saturday evening at a hospital, and I instantly felt guilty I was pulling him away from more exciting Saturday night plans.

He pushed me to the elevator and hit the up button. I looked up at him with confusion, knowing that there was nothing on the upper levels. I thought we were going to just go to the cafeteria for some food or something.

"Just wait," he said to me as the elevator doors opened for us. He hit the very last floor button, and I felt more confused than ever knowing that there was nothing there except premie babies.

We got to the top floor and Peter pushed me down the hall to the end, where there was a door to get to the roof. "Can you walk up?" Peter asked me.

I nodded as I looked at the stairwell in front of me. Not that high. It was one flight of stairs and I was sure I could do it. "If you help me I can," I told him as I got up from the chair with difficulty as my legs shook, but I tried hard to hide it from him.

He wrapped his arm around my waist and together we took one step after the other. As I held onto him, it embarrassed me that I was so weak. I never enjoyed showing this side of the illness, and this time I couldn't hide it, in fact, it would only get worse from now on.

We trudged up the set of stairs until we got to the rooftop. I felt the fresh air hit my face, and it brought a smile to my face, not realizing how much I missed the feeling of fresh air.

I heard soft violin music playing in the background, which caused me to look around at the rooftop until my eye stopped in the middle of the roof where a small wood table with lit candles on top of it. Words vanished as I looked at it. He did this for me. This beyond anything that I have ever dreamt of.

"Since you couldn't leave the hospital, I thought I would bring the date to you," he explained to me as he held the chair out for me to sit down. I sat down and smiled at him. This time it was not a forced one, but real. "You have told me before that it was your dream to go to Paris, eat the food, experience the culture, see the sights. And even though I can't give you the sights, or the culture, I could at least give you the food," he said and lifted the metal tray to reveal escargot.

"This looks amazing, Peter," I said to him, even though I wasn't hungry. I barely ate anything all day, but tonight, I would force myself to eat. I wanted to show him how much this meant to me because it did. He would always be the light in my life and I would miss him when that lit disappeared.

We started eating and talking about small things, although we both knew what we really wanted to talk about. My health. I think he had an idea that I was going downhill pretty fast and I needed him to know what I didn't want him around for it. He should hear it out of my mouth instead of someone else's, but neither of us were brave enough to bring it up, so instead we talked about unimportant topics.

As Peter walked me down to my floor after dinner, there was a heavy air around us I realized that I missed my chance to talk to him about the important topics. As I looked up at him as he pushed me to the elevator, emotion filled me as I realized that this would be the last date he ever took me on. This date was goodbye, and I couldn't keep it going any longer. Peter deserved more.

"Dinner was amazing. Thank you, Peter. It was as if we were there in Paris tonight."

"When you get better, we can go to Paris. We can see the entire world if you want."

I frowned as his words felt like a slap in the face, reminding once again that there was no future with us. I would not get better, in fact, I was going down just the opposite path. I was silent, not knowing how to bring up my thoughts. He was just going to keep coming up with positives and honestly, there were no more positives. There was no way that this would end up on a cheerful note. He needed to leave before he got hurt, any more than he already would. I needed to end it with him to protect him.

He laughed as he pushed me into my room. "You think I'm joking about this, Clare, but I'm dead serious. Clare May Atkins, I want to spend every moment of every day with you. When you get better, I plan on taking you to all the places you dreamt about."

I couldn't keep this up any longer as I felt tears well up in my eyes that I refused to let spill.

His smile quickly fell into a frown. "What Clare?" he asked as he put his warm hand on mine.

I took a deep breath and let it out. In that air, I found my courage, but it came out in a whisper. "I've been lying to you, Peter."

<>

"What?" He looked so confused.

"That's right, I haven't been honest with you."

"What do you mean?"

I felt my face turn to stone as I took another deep breath. I stayed firm in my wheelchair as Peter moved to face me. "Nothing is working. Doctor Patel has run out of options. I'm stopping treatment. They think that I only have a few months, Peter."

He shook his head as his eyes glossed over. "No, that's not true. You're just having a bad few days. Things are going to get better. I know they will."

I signed. He was always so positive. I just hoped he would stay that way after we ended. "And these bad days are going to continue, Peter, until the end. And they're just going to get worse."

"No, it's not true. That's a lie," he said. He ran his hand through his hair, but I could see that his hands were shaking. I grabbed ahold of them to steady them, wanting to comfort him. I needed him to be in the right mind for what was said next.

This was hurting me as much as it was hurting him, but I couldn't let him know that. "It's not a lie," I said and looked at him straight in his eyes to show I was telling the truth.

He turned his back from me and ran his hand through his hair again. "Hell," he mumbled. "Gosh Dammit!" he shouted, causing me to jump. I was finally seeing his anger directed at me.

While his back was turned, I quickly wiped the tears from my eyes as I tried to keep myself together for just a little longer. "Honestly, Peter, you should just leave now. I'm not worth your time. No one wants to be friends with a girl on a death sentence, let alone date one. I'll just drag you down and I don't want to do that. You don't deserve that."

He turned to face me with watery eyes as he shook his head. "No, you can get over this. I know you can. You're strong."

I frowned. He just wasn't getting it. It didn't matter how strong I was; the treatment wasn't working, and I wasn't magically going to get better. I wouldn't last much longer, and he needed to know that I was dying.

With a heavy sigh, I realized I needed to take a fresh approach to this. I needed him to think that I didn't love him. I needed him to leave me because I was the heartless person. "You don't get it, do you Peter? I'm breaking up with you. I don't want you around anymore," I said harshly, maybe a little too harshly.

He recoiled as if he was slapped across the face but remained silent. I knew he was thinking a million miles an hour as he looked at me.

After a second of silence, I spoke up. "Please do both of us a favor and just leave," I said, holding back tears as I pointed towards the door of my room.

He stood there, confused for a minute in silence as he stood there looking at me, trying to see he could read if I was telling the truth.

The longer he stayed, the harder this was for me. I couldn't bear the thought that this would be our last time to see each other. If he didn't leave quickly, I would make up some excuse about why he needed to stay, because I didn't want him to leave. "LEAVE! GO AWAY PETER! And don't come back!" I shouted at him.

He looked at me with agony, but after a minute he left without another word.

As soon as he was out of sight and earshot, I broke down in tears, allowing myself to cry harder than I have in a long time. I knew that this was the right thing to do, but why did it hurt so much? Deep down, I didn't want this to happen, but it needed to. I was dying, and I was going nowhere. I was just dragging him down, and I was sure he would understand that someday.

Anger flared within me as I felt so pissed with my life. I hated all of this. I needed to get rid of everything. I needed to start fresh. I needed nothing to remind me of him. It would be easier that way. I picked up my phone and threw it against the wall as hard as I could. It shattered on impact, littering the ground with small pieces of glass.

I stood up from my wheelchair and walked over to the cart that had flowers and gifts from Peter and the rugby team. I threw myself at them and pushed them all off the cart, causing them to break on the grown. I bent down to pick up some of the boxes, but I tripped on my feet and fell to the ground instead. I screamed in frustration, waiting all of this pain to be taken away.

Within seconds, two nurses came running in with worried looks on their faces.

Nurse Jensen frowned at me. "Oh Clare," she said as she helped me to the bed. She said nothing else, and I didn't need to explain because she knew.

When they left, I ripped the IV out of my hand, finished with all of this. I just wanted to go home to my actual home. I swung my legs over the bed again and carefully got out of it. I took slow, shaky steps to the nurse's table outside of my room.

"Clare, what are you doing?" one nurse asked me as she looked up from her paperwork.

"I want to go home. Now," I demanded.

She pinched her lips together. "That's not possible."

"Well make it possible," I demanded at her, a little too harshly. My eyes fell on Anna's dark room and saying nothing more, I took steps there, knowing that I needed to see with my own eyes that she wasn't here.

I walked into Anna's room, expecting to see her sitting cross-legged on her bed with a sketchbook on her lap. I wanted to see her with her lips pushed together like she always did when she concentrated, then look up at me with a smile as I walked into her room. Instantly we would dive into conversation about the latest Instagram post. But instead of walking into a room full of her decorations, it was empty, sterile and dark. I felt my eyes well up with tears again. Anna would not come back. I slid down to the floor, not having enough energy to keep myself up any longer, as a sob broke my lips.

"Clare?" I heard a soft voice say out loud from behind me. It was genital and hesitant and I knew in an instant it was Farrah.

Without turning to face her I said, "She's gone, Farrah. I'm never going to see her again," I sobbed. Farrah moved in front of me so she could face me. She looked at me with sadness in her eyes but said nothing, instead, she fell to the ground and hugged me tightly.

"I'm sorry Clare. I am so sorry," she whispered to me.

I hugged her tightly, as if I would never see her again. "She was my only friend Farrah and I lost her. I lost her, I lost Peter, I lost you. I'm all alone. I'm going to die alone," I sobbed into her, soaking her hair with my tears.

"You're not alone. You're not losing me. I'm here Clare and I'm not going anywhere."

"But you stopped being my friend when I needed you the most."

She pulled me out of the hug and looked at me with such seriousness and pain. "Do you know what your secrets do to me, Clare? They eat me from the inside. You know how hard it is to look at mom and dad and say, I think Clare's fine? It killed me. I want to be your best friend, but, Clare, I was drowning in your secrets. I needed to take a step back so I could think more clearly. But I'm here for you now. I promise I won't leave your side again."

I sobbed into her as self hatred consumed me. I pushed everyone away from me including Farrah, and I didn't even know it. "Farrah, I'm sorry! I didn't know."

"Well now, you do," she said so plainly to me.

"I am losing everyone I ever cared about."

"You know that is not true. You have mom, dad and me. As alone as you may feel, we'll always be there for you, cheering you on from the sidelines," she cooed as she stroked my hair, just like mom did when I was little.

Farrah held me tightly saying nothing else as we stayed on the floor for I don't know how long. Long enough to calm myself down and stop crying.

Finally, Farrah pulled out of the hug and whipped her eyes. She forced a smile, but it wasn't convincing. "I broke up with Malik. You're more important and I'm going to be right beside you from now on. I promise. I love you, Clare."

I sniffled. It amazed me she would do something like that for me. I believed I would not see Farrah anymore, under the belief that she wouldn't realize I was fading until it was too late. But for the first time in weeks, on the cold hospital floor, I felt like I meant something to her. I felt her love for me for the first time in a while. I just wish this came sooner. "I love you too Farrah."

She got up from the ground and held out her hand for me to take. "We have some catching up to do."

I nodded at her and took her hand. I used all my strength to come up from the ground and together, arm in arm we walked back into my room. For what seemed like hours, we sat on my bed talking about what we had missed in each other's lives. We laughed and cried and talked until our parents came running into the room with panicked faces.

"Clare, honey, what did you do?" mom said to me with a frantic voice. "We got a call from the nurse's station about your, um, outburst."

I looked at her and frowned, and for the first time, I let down all my walls. At that moment, I didn't care about putting on my brave face. I didn't care if they saw me as weak. My eyes welled up with tears as I looked at both of them. "I want to go home. I don't want to be here anymore."

Without saying anything more, mom rushed right beside me and held me, allowing me to bury my head into her chest. I cried hard and after a minute I was able to calm myself down again.

"Clare, we can't do that," she cooed. Farrah and mom were the same people, acting the same way and I think that was why I needed both of them so much.

"Why not? You can sign off on that paperwork. I'm just tired of being here. This isn't home. I am finished with spending all my time in a place that feels so clinical. Please. Can we just go home and act like a normal family for a moment?" I begged into her chest, refusing to pull out of the hug.

There was silence, but my parents exchanged looks, communicating without words. They were always so good at that. When I was little, I wanted so much to find someone that I could do this with. Sadly, life came in the way and I realized too soon that this dream was stupid and it would never happen.

Finally, I heard dad speak up. "Ok. We'll sign the paperwork if this is what you want."

I pulled out of the hug with mom and shook my head. I just wanted to be home, away from all of this.