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Death From Angels
The world was in slow motion, as I stared at the picture held up to the sunlight. I couldn’t feel anything, not grief, denial, or anger, just numbness. In the movies and books, I should be waging wars, or trying to argue that they were wrong. This is life, not a movie, not a book, not even a dream.
But it would be nice, ‘cause in the end everyone would be happy, and I would be an inspiration for others. I stared at the picture of my head, the part that I couldn’t see, and much less feel. The part that I always forgot was there… my brain. A big white mass that shouldn’t be there seemed to be staring at me. The numbness was subsiding, and I felt something like a spark growing deep within my core. I shifted my gaze to the guy holding the picture. He was in white, all white, for a second I imagined wings sticking out of his back.
“Your daughter has a Glioblastoma multiforme; it has been growing for quite awhile now. She has 17 months at the most, 12 the least.” I wished that he would drop the smile, he was too calm, they all were…like angels.
I hope that when I’m dead, he can see all the blood in his money. The heated feeling now surrounded my heart, and was creeping up my throat. I didn’t feel numb anymore, and it was terrible. I felt helpless and weak, like I couldn’t control my own body. I was being invaded, and I remember the invasion, skillful, and subtle at first.
It started with headaches, so what, headaches were common, and so I popped Tylenol. Then grades started to plummet, it wasn’t that I wouldn’t concentrate, it was just that I simply couldn’t. Then just this morning I couldn’t walk straight because of a mammoth sized migraine. Every breath was like an explosion. I threw up all over my bed about five times. My mom found me sobbing, and curled up with my head between my knees. Like I was for an hour.
It was really quiet, my mom and step-dad were clutching each other by my bedside. “Can’t you cut it out?” My step-dad asked in a pleading tone. The question gave me a surge of hope.
“No, I’m sorry, the Glioblastoma is too close to the brainstem, and goes too deep for removal. Any attempts could risk: paralysis, -----,” I cut him off, tired of the calmness.
“So what, no matter how many big words you throw at me, I’m still dying, now get out of here right the heck now!!!” at first I was whispering, and then my voice gradually rose in hysteria. I glared at them as they left, high stride and all. When they were out of sight my mom immediately started the blaming.
“Lizzie I’m so sorry, I should’ve brought you in sooner, right when your behavior was changing, but I thought it was a stage. It’s my fault!” I tried comforting her by telling her it wasn’t hers or anyone’s fault, she didn’t give any evidence that she believed me. I eventually convinced my parents to go and eat. When I couldn’t see them, I literally collapsed into the pillows.
My thoughts ran wild. Oh my God, I’m dying. I’m only 15, I’ve barely lived. I haven’t had my first kiss. I haven’t had my first boyfriend. God, what did I do to deserve this, then out of nowhere a thought floated through my head: you know what you did. That’s right… the memory resurfaced, and I didn’t want it. I’m really sorry Mattie
I was 10, my mom and real-dad adopted a six year old girl named Mattie, we had her for three months, and I was jealous. She tried to get along with me, and I kept pushing her off. Then one day… she was gone, we never found her. Eventually that led up to my parent’s divorce.
I buried myself in the blankets and pillows, and cried until the room was full of the sound of guilt I’ve been holding in for years. See Lizzie, that’s what you get, this is what happens when karma comes back. When the air under the covers got musty, I resurfaced. A completely random memory popped into my head. I was 5, and it was a normal doctor’s visit.
A doctor, she had glowing blond hair, which reminded me of a halo. Her complexion was fair, and her blue eyes sparkled. She was crouched at my height handing me a lollipop, and telling me how good I did. I even asked if she was an angel, she laughed showing her pearly white teeth. When she left, her pristine white coat brushed my face, and I smelled a light scent of lavender smelling cleaners. Then, I was sure that all doctors were angels, I grimly gazed out the window. Back then I didn’t know that death was delivered by angels.