N/A: last chapter. Hope you like it :)

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A few years later Charlie got really sick. Her mom ran her to the hospital. They took her to the room they always take her to when things like this happened. It's like this was her room and her room only.

She gazed up at the flat white ceiling above her head. Why were hospitals always white? It was so boring. It always felt wrong if someone came in wearing colors, they looked so out of place.

Everything was pale in hospitals. The nurses' uniforms, two shades darker than the walls, blended perfectly with their own pale skin.

She hated being here. Trapped in this big, white box. Being tended to by nurses who acted like they didn't care about her. They come in, look at a few charts, then they go. No conversation, no reassuring smile, nothing. "I'm bald, not deaf," she thought slightly annoyed.

Unconsciously she ran her hand over her bald head. "It's not that bad," she told herself. "Full of advantages. No lice, no knots, my hairstyle won't come undone during the day." She bit her lip and shut her eyes trying to stop the tears that were threatening to squeeze out the corners of her eyes.

"Now stop that!" she said to herself. "You have already cried four times today, no more." She talked to herself a lot now days. She was her new best friend. The perfect friend. She kept her secrets, laughed at her jokes and most importantly did not stare at her with pity Not that she could, the room had no mirrors.

Her eyes were closing by themselves. "Just a little nap." She muttered to herself before slipping out of consciousness.

Charlie lay with her eyes half closed, listening to her own rattling breath. Her mother sat holding her hand, silent sobs shaking her shoulders. It's alright Mum, she wanted to say but she seemed to have lost control of her tongue.

She was tired, so tired. The weariness had plagued her for months now. She could feel her weariness running through her bones, it felt like it was running through her very blood.

In her head she saw her bedroom just how she had left it. Brown walls, A queen size bed, dressers covered in little toys or figures. Not to mention the letters on her walk that spelt out Charlie that her grandpa gave her when she was 10.

The picture changed and she could feel the sun on her back and the waves going over her toes. The smell of salt and sand. The different colors from the different bathing suits and the water.

She closed her eyes a moment and felt her mother's grip strengthen. She opened them again slowly and a smile touched her lips. She was dancing. Twirling, leaping, dancing. Dancing on a stage in a gown of gold, her hair flying around behind her. She ran, and jumped, dancing like she had never danced before. Then the audience cheered and clapped, "again!" they a said. "Again!" but the curtain dropped, blocking her from view.

Charlie smiled as the music faded. In her mind she slipped out of her dancing shoes and walked barefoot into the light.