Only a few hours had passed after I received my diagnosis, and within that time, it was like I was drowning in quicksand and struggling to breathe. The more I thought about my condition, the more worried I was for Dad, leaving him alone with her.

He had a lot on his plate since Mum hit the bottle and took up drinking, an old hobby of hers. The empty bottles of Pinot Blanc took first rank with a new one reappearing on the kitchen worktop each day.

Yearning to get back home and support my dad, I knew I had to get better for his sake and sanity.

My mind reeled back to the vivid dream I had earlier in the waiting room, and even after a nap, I couldn't shake the mysterious boy from my brain.

Did I pick him from the fragments of my imagination?

The harder I tried imagining him, the quicker he faded within my subconscious mind. It was like someone blew out the flickering flame of a candle, leaving me in the dark.

I don't know what is real anymore.

The double-layered roller blinds added a nice touch to the windows, letting the right amount of light in during the early afternoon.

Scraping back my dirty blonde hair, I suppressed a groan as the digital clock read '15:20.' Tomorrow was the start of something I couldn't comprehend as the dreams seemed less daunting, pulling the duvet over my head.

My grey-coral Lonsdale barrel bag caught my attention, sitting beside the bedside table with the zipper left hanging open. My parents went home to pick up my belongings after Johnathan had given them the news, hoping they would still be here when I woke up.

They packed my favourite teddy bear, Cuddles. Its beige coloured leg stuck out at an angle like they had packed it in a hurry.

I received Cuddles for my 7th birthday from my parents, and it became my favourite, well-loved bear. I took him everywhere with me, mainly because with Cuddles around, he gave me a sense of security when my parents couldn't. Either Mum was too drunk to care about her responsibilities, or Dad tended to her needs more than he should. A tear resurfaced, threatening to spill down my cheeks.

Over time, he watched me grow up, becoming discoloured, and the red thread highlighted the stitches he needed when a rabid dog decided he was a chew toy. One eye fell out, so we replaced it with a maroon button, but it wasn't the same colour as the original. It gave him a mismatched appearance. I placed him on the pillow beside me, which was his prime spot and his new home.

Curious as to what else they had packed, I rummaged through the rest of my belongings. Laying on top of my clothes was a prospectus for Northampton University. I guessed Mum had snuck it in while Dad wasn't looking. She was hoping to persuade me to pick a course in law, but I had my heart set on drama, something my mother wasn't keen on. She said, "Drama won't pay the bills."

While she was right, I believed I could be on stage one day, performing my heart and soul to thousands of people. Each time I stepped on stage, the adrenaline coursed through my veins, giving me a thrill that made me a different person. I was no longer Erika Smith but a girl who showed she had confidence and ambition.

I found a copy of The Importance of Being Earnest in one of the side pockets. The edges of the pages had seen better days as they bent in one direction. I tried smoothing the corners, hating that my parents didn't care about books the way I did. For me, books were like an organ that needed proper care and appreciation.

A gentle knock on the door startled me. I stared wide-eyed at the knob, waiting as Johnathan popped his head around the door. "Oh, good. You're awake. I didn't know if you were still sleeping."

I wish I still was.

Laying the novel aside, I gave him my full attention.

"Is something wrong?" My heart rate sped up, waiting for his answer as he left me on tenterhooks.

Johnathan pushed his black specs further up his nose with his index finger. As stubborn as they were, they slipped when he lowered his head.

"Oh, no. Everything is fine. I came to see if you wanted to visit the lounge and mix with others your age? If you would like, I can show you the way?"

Grateful for his offer, I shook my head in decline. Now wasn't the time to swap sob stories and compare bruises on our arms or how much weight we had lost.

"That's thoughtful of you to offer, but I think I'll stay here and finish my book." I inclined towards the paperback resting on the bedside table. Even though I had read it from start to finish once before, it was the option I preferred.

Johnathan tapped his fingers against the door frame, slowly nodding as if he understood. "Your dad dropped by, but you were asleep. He said he would come back in the morning."

A sense of annoyance filtered through my body, hating how I had slept when Dad came and went without saying a word. Times like these were when I needed him the most, but it was unfair when he was suffering at home, juggling the responsibility of looking after us.

"In the meantime, if you need me, I will be in my office."

I forced a smile, hiding behind a facade that grew harder to fake with each passing hour. If only I could dissolve within the sheets, transporting through the mattress as they do in Narnia.

Okay, that was a wardrobe, but they're close enough.

The book lay heavy in my hands as I turned to the page where I had left my bookmark, eagerly waiting for him to vanish. Each word had a meaning on the page, but my eyes scanned past the print without a second thought. The pages evaporated between my fingers as I skimmed past paragraph after paragraph.

Pulling my legs to my chest, I rested my elbows against my bony knees with the edge of the book, making an indent through my thin leggings. The baggy sleeves of my oversized jumper covered my hands, occasionally getting in the way. It was enough to turn over the cuffs once but twice pushed the limit.

After losing a significant amount of weight over the past year—a red flag that needed addressing  —the unintentional weight loss was down to extreme fatigue and a loss of appetite.

A clatter of noise echoed outside my room, piquing my curiosity. I left my book and padded in my pink polka dot socks to investigate. 

A group of youngsters waited in a single file outside one of the rooms, perhaps the lounge. Several patients carried their drip stands attached to an infusion bag, whilst you wouldn't even know that the others had cancer.

The nurse wheeled a clearing trolley down the corridor, piled with cups and saucers with two stainless steel handled jugs. On the second layer, a tin of digestive biscuits rattled as she strolled past.

"You're more than welcome to join, honey," the nurse said as she stopped midway, looking back over her shoulder. She wore her ginger hair into a bun on the crown of her head, adorned with a braid that wrapped around its core. "The patients are friendly and welcoming."

I crossed my arms over my chest, wishing I had my book to hand as an excuse. I guessed it was one of those self-help therapy sessions, but it wasn't my thing, though, or at least, not the social part of it. The part that enticed me was the free beverage and a biscuit. "I think I'll pass but thank you. Maybe next time."

The nurse smiled, highlighting the dimples on her fair cheeks. "Sure."

Sighing, I backed into my room and closed the door. I wasn't in the mood for socialising and found making relationships difficult. It wasn't that I didn't want to make friends, but more the fact that I acted awkward in certain situations.

Cassie, my best friend, was the confident and bubbly type where education wasn't on top of her curriculum list. She valued boys over math problems, and who could blame her? She had bouncy hair and a prominent smile that lightened up someone's day. Boys fell over their shoelaces to get noticed.

Boys did the opposite in primary school. When I walked past, a few pretended to tie up their laces, even though they wore Velcro strips.

I wasn't Miss Popular, and my turned-up nose wasn't anything to look at compared to Cassie.

It had been a week since I last saw her at school, not knowing when she would visit. At least her cheerful presence would make this place more bearable. If I had my phone, I could send a text, but due to possible radiation, phones weren't allowed.

I collapsed on the mattress, fighting an urge to scream at the drab wallpaper.

Why me?

Uncle Desmond had lung cancer, but now I was following in his footsteps, praying I had a different outcome.

Within these four walls, the isolation intensified. A sense of impending doom gnawed away at my innards.

Nighttime grew closer, and the tug of his presence pulled me under. As I closed my eyes, it enticed me to follow, and I couldn't say no.

A/N

Word Count: 1,595

Will Erika ever feel at home while she stays for her treatment?

Is Erika's mother right about pursuing a career in Law?

Have a fangtastic day!

(㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)