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"Kimmie, I want to tell you a story." Who ever knew that words so simple could be so painful years later?

I had jumped up on my mothers bed, the crisp, white sheets so annoyingly scratchy on my hands, and prepared myself for yet another amazing bedtime story. I didn't bother to ask why I was being told a story at ten in the morning, or why my dad had picked me up early from school on a Monday, but I should have.

My mother was a tiny thing, her brown almond shaped eyes seemed to take up most of her face, her bones far too thin to support that big heart of hers, but I loved her. So when she smiled at me and combed her slender fingers my hair, I let myself believe I would be okay.

I sided up next to her on the narrow twin bed, the extra pillows took up more space than she did, and rested my head on her shoulder. She opened up her hand, an invitation for my own which I gladly accepted. My dad stood off to the side, an unreadable mask on his face for the time being while my mother thought of how to begin the last story.

"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess. She didn't come from the largest, or prettiest kingdom, but she was happy."

"Did she look like me?" I interrupted, because back then, that's what mattered most.

My mother nodded, her thin lipped mouth curling into a smile. "Yes, my flower. She looked very much like you." She took a large breath, her lungs heaving to catch up, before starting again. "The princess tried very hard to take care of her kingdom, being kind to all that crossed her way. And soon enough, her goodness was recognized by a very handsome prince."

She cast her gaze over to my father, though he didn't look the same. Tears rolled down his face like waterfalls, breaking that mask he tried to maintain. I learned that day that there were some moments where even the strongest could be brave, sometimes the strong slip. "The prince and the princess left to start their own kingdom with the blessing of their own parents, and so their new adventure began. They didn't have much, but they both worked very hard for their dreams to come true. The prince and the princess reached for the heavens, and soon enough they had their very own star."

It finally had clicked in my head that this was not just a story, that maybe it was just slightly more familiar than I had guessed before. "Mommy, is this about us?" I asked, leaping to my knees in excitement.

"Yes, flower. It is," she said, burying her face in my shirt to hug me, maybe hide from me, or maybe both. "The prince and princess loved their own little star so very much, but one day the princess was called to a new mission. She had one last day to tell her beloved kingdom goodbye before she set off on the greatest adventure, an adventure she probably wouldn't come back from."

My dark brows began to furrow together as the story lost its charm. "Wait, but Mommy, you're the princess, aren't you? Where are you going?"

My mother pulled away to place her hands on my shoulders. "Kimberly, I have to go somewhere that I pray you won't go to for a very long time. I love you more than anything, my precious flower, but this time I can't stay."

"Can't stay? But you're my Mommy, you have to stay! You've gotta stay with me and Daddy an--"

I had never seen my mother cry before, but for that one day she let her smile slip. "Kimberly, not all stories have a happily ever after."

This was the last lesson that my mother taught to me, a little girl of seven, who could barely comprehend why wearing the same Disney princess dress to school seven days a week was not acceptable. Even if you did everything right, ate all your veggies, shared your toys, you might not get that fairy tale ending.

I don't know what my parents expected of me in that moment. To cry? To say how much I loved them? I was just a kid. Not a knight, not a wise wizard, but a kid who still needed her mom to scare away the monsters in her closet with a bedtime story. A story she would never get hear again.

Like any child who stared danger in the face, I had three choices; cry, hide, or to run. I chose the latter.

Hospitals had never been my favorite. The stark walls, the smell of cleaning supplies, and that feeling that you could never talk to loud or you'd drown out the person trying not to get taken away by the waves. I had been so grateful to have an excuse to turn on my heel and sprint out the door as fast as my Cinderella sneakers could take me. The clock had struck twelve, and I was waking up from my dream.

There was no prince chasing me down those twisting hallways. No fairy godmother bringing me back to a rosy tale that could be finished in an hour and a half. All that I had behind that rapidly closing door was a disease far to cruel to spare someone far too kind. I would've run further if it wasn't for the streets blocking my escape. For now, the sidewalks had become my friend. 

I buried my head between my arms,  tears and snot smeared across my olive skin in a not-so-beautiful way, but who cared? You didn't go to a hospital because you were fine, even if everything else was. The trees had just begun sprouting bits of green, the flowers greeting me with their annoyingly cheerful smiles. All of it just made me want to scream.

My fists clenched as I stared up at the clear, wide blue skies. Not a single cloud covered the shining sun, didn't they know this was a sad day? My whole world was falling apart, but everything else just kept moving. Why did it have to be so unfair? Why could other people just keep walking when my person would never get to again?

"It'll be okay." 

A little girl sat herself on the sidewalk right next to me, extending her arm to offer me the box of tissues in her hands. She didn't smile at me, she would've been trying to get away with far to big of a lie, but she reached out to me.

If it wasn't for the fact that she had a large bandage across the side of her face, she would've looked perfect. Her long, blonde hair rolled over her shoulders just as easily as taking a breath, and to this day I swore that I got lost in her blue eyes for a moment. "Thanks..." I muttered, snatching a fistful of tissues from the box. 

"It's weird, isn't it?" she said as I loudly blew my nose, continuing before I had the chance to respond, "Coming out here, I mean. One second you're fine, and then you're stuck in there, all alone."

I couldn't respond to her, a nod was the most I could manage. "But you're not alone." I opened my mouth to protest, but she held up a finger. "Don't be stupid. Whoever you ran from is alone. You're crying because you're sad, but you don't get to cry yet. Go be brave while there's still someone waiting inside for you. If anyone here leaves, you need to make sure you're holding their hand when they do!" 

She looked so angry, standing there screaming at me, but it was because she was right. I needed my Mommy, and she needed me too. I got to my feet with the box of tissues and just stared at that blonde haired girl. It was the first and last time I'd probably see her, so I smiled. "I won't forget your face."

When I was ten, my mother told me that not all stories have a happily ever after.

When I was ten, a girl taught me that all stories need a hero. 

Though not all heroes save the day.