I am alone with someone

I feel it presence now of it glaring over me, not wanting or letting me free. I'm unaware if it lets me write to humour me or let me suffer as my final act of desperation. I wish I could make it out, truly I do, but I've been sentenced to death already, and the being I brought with i made it only truly peppermint. The only option I have is to finally be at a level of selflessness and take whatever I brought with me back. As I hope for this to be enough to end any harm to others, i feel I have brough something no man can fight, something that I truly can't understand, no man can ever understand, but it understands us. 

I lay awake in the bed I have now found comfortable. Turing over, yanking the tubes and other objects that are meant to delay the inevitable. Clarie walks over, undoing all forms of entrapment this place has on me for today. Even so, I know I'll be back next. The smell of disinfectant and bio fills my nostrils as I sit up. I know I'm lucky in comparison to the others, but I also know I am one who still has a good level of consciousness. That means I must know the inevitable and must face it head-on. Even if the chicken sees the axe being sharpened doesnt mean it can escape the coop. 

“How are you feeling, dear?” As she sticks a probing object into my ear.

“Like I wanna die.” A small chuckle leaves my raspy breath.

“Don't worry, dear, it will come soon enough.” We both let out a soft laugh; dark humour was the way we bonded. Even from a young age me my mother and I always found the light at the end. 

“Will you come over for Thanksgiving at least?” As she started, the grasping cusp as it inflated around my arm. Squeezing me tight, making me feel as if my arm was to turn purple. 

“If I'm still kicking, you know I will.” The light droplets of water that dripped from her eyes made me so sad every day. No mother should outlive her child, but here we are. 

“Your sister is gonna be downstairs in the main waiting room, she's gonna drive you home today.” As she rubbed my cheek gently, she felt the week's stubble that had grown. I have felt too weak to even do that now. Who knows what else I will be incapable of next? 

“Thanks, I'll see you tomorrow.” As I leaned in for a hug, I grasped around her. Feeling the tight hold she kept around me as she let go, she left one kiss upon my forehead. 

“Please think about moving home still, it really would be best.” The residue of tears was still left upon her face. 

“I'm 21 years young, Mom, you know I'm partying all night long.” A slight smile formed on her face as I sat up in the bed I've grown too used to. 

Sniffles came from her. “Fair enough, I don't wanna get in your way of pulling all the girls.” A small laugh from both of us came. 

The hallway was gloomy due to the idea that no one here wished to be here. The smell of blown candles and pneumonia filled the rooms. This was a place of fake honour. A way someone has a last stand, no one truly has any chance, though. This was a battle no one could beat. Even if you live, the scars will never leave. My sister had been sitting there locked into her phone by this point. I gave a gentle wave to the front desk worker while I made my way to my sister, for I may leave here. Walking slowly to her, I crept up behind and gave a light flick to her back of her head. 

“Who the hell?!” Lowered her voice as soon as she turned around.  “Oh, JJ”, rubbing her back of her head. 

“Hey, long time no see, made it all the way back for little old me, " giving her a weakened smile 

“Yeah, it's good to see you”, she wasn't able to keep eye contact while talking to me. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah, sure thing.” I had tried to keep a cheerful attitude, but knew she was struggling. “You know I'm not gone yet, don't need to be so down”, her teeth gritting hard

“Don't say stuff like that, okay?” A line of tears rolled down her face. “You aren't gone, and you won't be going.” It seemed like her teeth would have snapped in half. 

“Yeah, yeah, let's just head out.” Still trying to hold a smile, but even I had a hard time keeping it

Sniffles came from her, and it felt as if she was gonna let out a title wave of emotions, but all that came was “Yeah, good idea.”  As she struggled to keep composed, it seemed. 

The drive was not long by any means, only around 20 or so minutes long, but it might have been the river of Styx from how long it felt. The silent sniffles and cries of anguish that never truly left her throat. She had been out of state at the start, and I knew it had to be hard on her. I've accepted my fate, but I knew that even if I did, others around me would have to live with the life I left behind.  Even if it hadn't been my choice, even though this was something way out of anybody's control, it didn't mean I hadn't still felt endless sorrow for my family and endless regret. I had started to feel somehow it was my fault, somehow my doing. The karma I left somehow made me at fault. I knew it wasn't true, but I just couldn't stop the feeling. The compact car had filled with noxious fumes as we took a left. Home sweet home I thought to myself. 

“There is an open spot right up there,” my hand tumbled as I pointed to an open spot right in front of the apartment building's front door. 

“Yeah, I saw.” She rubbed her eyes dry as she pulled up. “Want me to walk you in?”  

“No, it's. It's okay,” giving an uncomfortable side hug within the car. “Hey, I'm sorry this is the first time we've seen each other in a while, I know not the best of circumstances.” 

“No, it's okay, I was already planning on coming up for Thanksgiving anyway,” she said, giving a pitiful attempt at a smile. “I love you, I know I gave you shit in your younger years, you were my little brother and all, but really we all love you so much.” 

“Thanks,” and I left without another word. 

The cold air had hit me like a freight train, with the smell of weed to follow. Walking in, I passed one of my neighbours who was walking her dog and nearly tripped me with how fast she came out. 

“Hey, Miss G, and hi Lucy,” looking over my shoulder now to see them both still moving on

‘Hello dear, so sorry for her, but we can't talk right now, we have a doctor's appointment we can't miss.” 

“Yeah, of course, see you two tomorrow,” waving to them as they entered her truck. It had always been comical how this little old woman owned such a big car. Always made me laugh, but I just couldn't today. I had too much on my mind. 

Reaching my door with shaking hands, I steadily tried to get into the keyhole but kept missing until I dropped them. Trying again, I kept shaking and couldn't get it. Until they fell once more. Slamming my hand into the door. I thought about how pathetic I must look, a grown man unable to open his door; it was humiliating, really. Even if no one saw it still felt as if a crowd was watching. I had finally gotten it on the 3 attempt, quickly entering my house, I closed and locked my door.  Looking over, I saw the box of my father's things with a candle on top of it. He hadn't been the most open about the past, whether it be his family or himself. I knew near to nothing, and now I couldn't ever learn.  Walking over slowly to the box, I saw a booklet squeezed in between an old newspaper and a roll of quarters. Opening the frail pages, to see near gibberish. Incomprehensible what I believe to be words. Pulled out my phone to see if the auto translator I have was able to translate it, but nothing came from it. Throwing the book back into the box, I made my way to the fridge and pulled a bottle of Schoch I kept on top. 

I sat down with my drink, skimming through the box to see if I could find anything memorable or just something that would hold value for someone in my family. Very few were in it though, a few knick-knacks and other trinkets, as well as a candle with two matches, with some newspaper as well as an empty jar with a deep crimson layer of dried liquid on the bottom. I nearly gagged and threw it straight into the trash. Trying to forget about the hunting visal of someone ekeeping what seemed to be blood in a jar, I read through the new paper to see if there was any reason that he may have kept it.  Pages didn't stay much, just local news and other activities happening around the area and such. One caught my eye, though, being it had been circled.

“Local 23-year-old Thomas Scott found to beat cancer without any medical procedures, the world may not be ready for what this local hero can do!”

 

Rolling my eyes, a con man using sickness to gain wealth or power, but why did my father care about this paper enough to keep it in his close possessions? Throwing the paper back into the box, I picked up the candle and gagged hard as soon as I smelt it. It had been the scent of what I could only think of as a mix of bio and sweets, a smell I found only too familiar. The number 23 had been curved into the side. Picking up the paper again to see some sort of pattern, I felt uneasy, for so you see, I'm 23 too. I didn't know if this was just a big joke my dad tried to pull on me for he gets a nice laugh in the afterlife, but he had never been a joking man, quite stern actually. It had honestly started to freak me out and make me uneasy, but it shouldn't have; it was just a newspaper and a candle, such a simple thing, yet I'm shaking still. After giving myself a moment to relax, I had gotten an idea and opened the book once more and turned the pages until I reached 23. Coughing as dust spewed out of the rapidly turned pages, a paper fell out and hit my lap as I reached 23. 

“Dear son, this will be most likely the last thing I write for you, as my time has come to an end, and I only hope my life will be an extension of yours. Are family has a past that most don't know, even family members don't, but it's there, even if they don't look it will always be there. After you receive the cancer diagnosis, please read in this book if you wish to kill it. Do not question it, just do as the book says

From your Father”

Putting the note down, I did it nearly instinctively and read the book as well. It contained instructions on some sort of ritual or something of the like. My fears had vanished, and any form of spectusisume had gone to, and I just did as the book told. Lit the candle made the symbols, as well as other things I will leave out of this post. After I had finished everything, I broke out of the near trance-like state and backed up to the wall.

“What did I do? Why did I do it? Why couldn't i stop?” Heavy breathing came suit as I curled up into a ball and held my head in my legs, just a mess of confusion and worry. 

The room had gotten colder, and the light had brightened. Windows were becoming a pale fog, as steam had been in the room. My head started pounding as my nose bled. My head spun as I lay now in the fetal position. My body grew weaker as pain started throbbing in it. I got up a filled a glass with water, and drank it fast, wiping my mouth afterwards. Looking up, I saw something that throbbed my head more. Unable to put into words, it stood there as it took up the whole room and then just the space in one chair as if it were sitting in it. I threw my glass at it but it did nothing. Weirdness part: the glass didn't break, but landed as if onto a pillow and not the wooden floor.

“What are you?!” I said loudly, trying to get a response, but none came. 

“The book said you can get rid of the cancer, right?” Still nothing, but a sound can only be described as a slight laugh. 

“Why won't you talk?!” pleading now 

I had decided whatever it was, either it was to kill me, or worse, I decided to run to the door and get out, but my legs snapped like a branch of a small tree. I yelled in pain, pleading to not be harmed any further. Then it spoke, not in words, not in sound, but it spoke in something beyond that. Then I understood. 

My cancer was guaranteed to kill me by the end of the year. A cell had grown to the size of a golf ball on a vital organ. I had been through many different treatments and they were draining my family. Now, as I lie waiting for my body to give out, I see it waiting for me to finish. The flesh on my skin has sloughed off, leaving my face bare, and my bones boil. The body I had becomes near liquid as I write. I don't know how I'm still alive as I write, if it's a way of showing mercy to let me write my suicide note, but as I do, I know the inevitable has only made it harder on the people around me, and I wish no longer to be a burden on others and go on to mourn and live on. 

It wasn't something I should have fought; it was something I should have embraced. I wished to be remembered as a person who was kind and good to be around, and not as one who was frail and needed assistance walking. 

Good bye