Moment 00: Terminal

Seven days to live...that's all you have.

MOMENT 00: TERMINAL

“Seven days,” said Dr. Clar. “You have seven days to live.”

Mom broke into deep sobs, and Dad turned, staring out the window. Had I shamed him again? He couldn't even bear to look at me. Not that it mattered; he hadn't been around much anyhow.

My little sister, Kat, cooed at first, but even at her young age, saw the pain in everyone's eyes. Our parents were both devastated, shouldn’t that have been my right?

Dr. Clar, a kind man, looked as pained as my parents. He obviously didn't enjoy telling fourteen-year-olds they were dying. I had only a week until I would be dead.

Dad still didn't turn back, but said, “Can anything be done? Is there a way to give him more time?”

Dr. Clar grimaced. “As I said, I’ve only seen this illness once before in my fifty years of practice. The other hangs on only by a miracle, or perhaps a curse.”

Mom cried out, “Christ!” If we'd brought him sooner! If only you'd listened to me!”

“Leigh!” Dad scolded. “This isn’t the place to shout�"”

Mom sobbed and threw a snotty rag at him. “How can I not?”

“I’ll be outside if you need me.” Dr. Clar said in a low voice. He patted my knee, frowning, then left.

He showed sympathy for me, but I didn’t want it. I wanted an answer to my disease. I wanted to live! Still, for some strange reason, I couldn’t bring myself to cry. I didn't want to shed a single tear.

Mom glared at Dad. “It’s all your fault, Tony!”

“Please!” He said, visibly trembling, trying to keep calm.

Mom stood and stared at me for all of three seconds, and it seemed she couldn't take more than that. Turning quickly, she left the room and let the heavy wooden door slam.

Little Kat crawled across the floor and tugged on my pants. I looked down at my Sister; so innocent and unaware. I would never blame my Kat for my sickness, but my parents, I could blame. Dad only came around when things were convenient, and Mom, she'd barely lifted a finger to raise me.

Why me? I'd done nothing to deserve this! I'd never smoke, drank, or did any drugs. Of course, I never should've thought life to be fair; a lesson I should've learned early in my fourteen years, but ever the optimist, I ignored the signs. When I saw those donation commercials, I always thought, that’ll never happen to me. I'm healthy. Of course, in the past couple weeks that all changed.

Kneeling down, I lifted Kat and held her. She immediately jumped forward and wrapped her arms around my neck.

“Brah!” She said, unable to pronounce brother.

I buried my nose in her hair and eyed Dad. He still couldn't lay eyes on me. Did he care about my health, or did he worry about the cost of everything before him? A funeral would be pricey. I probably wouldn't get one.

Just as I thought he'd say something, he uttered the foulest curse I had ever heard and stormed out of the room. They cared so little; they left Kat behind. Sure they'd come back for her, but how long till they noticed her gone? She probably would end up in a foster home one day, and would never even remember she once had a brother.

A while later, a nurse came, looking annoyed. She snatched Kat from my arms and tossed a gown on my bed. “Get changed,” she grumbled.

Kat cried and reached for me, but I could only stare, with my heart shattering.

When they were gone, I changed and took my place in the hospital bed, careful not to tug the IV. With that, I looked out the window.

I stared at a single star. Maybe the North? It looked bright enough. Something strange happened. The star split into six orbs of light, spun around in a tight circle, and then returned to one.

I laid my head back. What had I just seen? A UFO? Angels perhaps? Or more likely, a trick of the mind. Powerful painkillers already dripped into my IV feed.

When I closed my eyes, the thoughts hit me all at once. The painful reality weighed heavy. In eight days, I wouldn't be around. In seven, I would die. And in the six leading up to doomsday, I would suffer.

I opened my eyes once more and spotted a cockroach on the windowsill.

The dirty creature crawled over Kat's toy she'd forgotten; a red curved magnet, the kind you'd see in cartoons.

Coldness spread through me, and I felt detached from my fingers and toes. Had my time come already? Seven days, or seven seconds, what did it matter? Death becomes us all. With that thought, I slipped off into the frigid darkness.

Author's Note

Available for sale on Amazon. (limited chapters here)