* Trigger Warning - Cancer * 

I sat up in a panic as the magazine in my lap fell to the floor, alarming the little titian-haired boy sitting opposite. He nudged closer to his mum and tightly hugged her arm, watching me with searching eyes. She was too busy texting on her mobile phone to notice her son seeking attention.

People of various ages crowded the waiting room, but we all had one thing in common—something was wrong with us. Remembering the nosebleed, I dabbed at my nostril, but it wasn't bleeding. It was as if it had never happened.

Shifting in my seat, I picked up the magazine and rolled it in my hands to calm my nerves. Keeping my hands busy distracted me from listening to the hacking coughs and smelling the bitter fragrance of cleaning products.

The clock on the wall came into focus as the hour hand landed on eleven, revealing that I had napped for thirty minutes. The doctor was forty minutes late, and with each passing minute, the tension wreaked havoc inside my stomach.

"Erika Smith, room eight," echoed across the tannoy, filling the waiting room with static noise.

I headed towards the consulting room, preoccupied with twisting the magazine in my hands and threw it in the bin on the way out.

His office was small and well organised with clumps of paperwork stacked on one side of the desk and a standard lamp on the other.

At least the room smells better.

"Please, take a seat, Erika," said the doctor, gesturing to the empty plastic seat in front of his desk. "I think you may have an inkling about what I'm going to discuss."

Nope, not a clue, but I'm sure you'll fill me in, right, Doc?

"Since you're seventeen, legally, it's up to you if you want your medical information disclosed to your parents." He hovered over his desk, resting his fingertips on the polished surface. "Would you like the information to be discussed with your parents?"

Mum would ask questions, one after the other, like we were in an interrogation room, and Dad would suffocate me with comfort. They would sit there like a backdrop, anticipating my every move, and I didn't want to put up a facade in front of my parents. It was emotionally draining to pretend everything was alright when it wasn't.

"Any affliction is a journey the family goes on, no matter the outcome. It's always best if they are informed, but of course, the decision is yours."  

"I suppose they should know," I said. They were my parents, and no matter how annoying they were, they showed me unconditional love. 

"You can change your mind at any time." Looking at his notes, he skimmed across the sheets, landing on the right page. "It isn't easy for me to relay this to you, Erika, but your test results reveal that you have Acute Myeloid Leukaemia."

His voice was gentle as he analysed my reaction. I suppose giving bad news was part of his profession.

"What even is that? I don't understand," I croaked and shifted on the plastic chair.

"I'm afraid you have cancer. It's a cancer of the blood and bone marrow." He leaned over the desk, scrutinising my reaction to the news. "I know it's overwhelming and a lot to take in. You may ask questions if you so wish."

"Cancer. I have cancer." My voice wobbled with each word, and saying it out loud tasted like death. I fiddled with the sleeves of my jumper, picking at the wool as my mind flooded with thoughts.

I have so many questions. How is this possible? 

I know what happened. They switched my notes with somebody else, and I have their diagnosis, and they have mine.

"Erika?" The doctor called, snapping me from my thoughts. "Even though you have an aggressive form of cancer, you are in the early stages. Myeloblastic Leukaemia with maturation is curable when treated early. Sixty-seven percent of people younger than twenty survive, depending on biological factors."

The doctor paused as I processed the chunk of information he fed me, waiting for me to say something.

What could I say exactly?

Frustrated, I scrunched my hair into a tight bun, tapping my foot involuntarily against the chair leg.

Breathe, Erika. Everything will be okay. He got the results wrong. 

"Why me?" I rubbed the inner part of my thumb, a relaxation method I picked up from YouTube.

He rested his hands on the file and took off his specs. "AML is often a DNA mutation found in the bone marrow and in the bloodstream, eventually leading to other parts of the body. People with this form of leukaemia have too many immature white blood-forming cells in their blood and bone marrow. Your tests have shown a lack of red and white blood cells as the abnormal cells have spread through your bloodstream. The leukaemia attacks your healthy cells, making it harder for them to do their job."

Each heartbeat grew louder, vibrating against my ribcage.

I'm supposed to attend college, grow up and become an actress. I want to see my eighteenth birthday and declare to the world that I have reached adulthood.

"There are many treatments available. With your permission, I would like to start with Induction Chemotherapy as soon as possible. The sooner we start chemo, the higher number of cancerous leukocytes affected."

All his words made my head spin, unable to cling to what he was saying as I fiddled with the hem of my oversized jumper. "How long will this last?"

"Induction Chemotherapy will prepare your body for remission, reducing the number of mutated cells. It won't destroy them all within the first cycle, so two cycles or more would be ideal. Each cycle lasts a week. During the rest periods, you will be able to recover at home."

"I need some air." I stood up in a hurry, wanting to leave before he had anything more to add. My world was crumbling, layer by layer, and soon it would collapse.

"Erika, wait." The doctor got up from his swivel chair and took long strides toward me, extending his hand for me to shake. "You have nothing to fear. Dr Hafsah built this wing for adolescents, accommodating all their needs while supporting their recovery. You're in excellent hands."

Forcing a smile out of politeness, I shook his sweaty hand. "Thank you, I guess."

Yeah, thanks for delivering my death sentence. I suppose I better start decorating my coffin now.

"Since you will be here for a short while, please do call me Johnathan." His natural auburn hair turned grey at the roots and grew thin on the crown of his head.

"Let me show you to your room. We have a lot of teenagers on this ward, and being around your age group could make you feel more at home, at least until you're well enough to go home." He turned to escort me out, and I followed him close behind.

I doubt I will ever feel at home here with everyone coughing and spluttering from their bedsides.

The pale-looking walls weren't anything special to look at. Too much white gave me a migraine. The rooms on either side looked like a prison ward as they stretched to the end of the corridor.

All I need is an orange jumpsuit and a nasallang piercing.

"None of the rooms have a television, but you are more than welcome to visit the patients' lounge. I know it's pretty standard, but feel free to join some classes pinned on the notice board at reception. Do you have any questions?"

"When will I see my parents?" I asked because I hadn't seen them since morning.

Johnathan replied, "I will inform them, and they will be able to collect some clothes and any personal belongings you might want."

My future was in jeopardy for the first time in my life, and I wasn't in control. My life was in the hands of somebody else, and that terrified me.

A/N

Word Count: 1,300

* Under 'The Family Law Reform Act 1969' in England, 16-17-year-olds can give consent to medical treatment without their parent's permission. *

* Since this is set in England, the NHS pays for the treatment. * 

What are your final thoughts on this chapter?

What are your first impressions of Johnathan?

Have a fangtastic day! 

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