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WatchIng From Another Place

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Chapter One
Inevitable
It’s a hard and terrible thing to watch someone suffer, even worse when you know the person. But there is no pain that compares to the pain of watching yourself suffer. To you in your day that may seem impossible but to me in my day and life, nothing is impossible. Nothing except for the elusive cure. In my world we have everything anyone has ever dreamed of, flying cars and forests made of candy. We are missing one thing in our world though, we are missing the cure to all pain, because every ounce of pain that has ever cursed this world is still here. And until we find The Cure all this pain, disease, and suffering, will be here with us.
My name is, soon to be was, Heather Patterson, although after The Exchange my name will be Ariana. I suppose I should get used to the name but since I’m still Heather, I’ll tell this to you my way. My name is Heather Patterson and I’m 14 years old. I don’t want you to judge me based on this, but I was diagnosed with cancer at age 13. And not benign cancer either, terminal cancer. And terminal cancer for me is the same thing it is for you, cureless.
After being diagnosed with cancer, I was shocked. My first thought was” Cancer? No it can’t be. I’ve never even been sick.” To be frank I never thought disease in general would ever touch me. Before cancer I pretty much lived in a gigantic, disease free bubble. I have rich, snobby parents who wouldn’t let my two brothers, Isaac and Matt, or I get near “diseased thing”. “Diseased Things” are pretty much anything that can give us a disease. The only place I’m allowed to go is church. I know its crazy, my parents won’t let me go to school but I go to church every Sunday. To them my religion is more important than my education. I go to school using a video chat set up in a catholic school’s classroom. It’s awful not being with other kids because now, when I need friends, I don’t have any. What I mean by needing friends is I’m dieing from cancer all alone. My parents are too busy working and Matt and Isaac couldn’t care less. The only people I could turn to for comfort would be my friends I just don’t have any. So to make the inevitable end go faster I’m writing a diary of my journey. And to tell you about my journey I have to start at the beginning, the very beginning of my journey.
Chapter 2
End of My Free Life
I remember the day vividly. It was February and it had just snowed the previous night. I was 7 years old and Matt and Isaac had both recently turned 4, I forgot to tell you they are twins. I had woken up extra early that morning just to go sledding. The snow was deep, white, and perfect for playing in. My brothers and I grabbed our sleds and headed for Anders Hill.
Anders Hill was the best hill in the neighborhood. No one was quite sure if the hill was man made or had just been there forever but nonetheless it was a legend. Anders Hill had more stories and mysteries surrounding it than kids who went there to sled. Each and every kid who went there added their own tales and gossip to the other stories shrouding the hill in its mystery and making it wonderful.
When Matt, Isaac and I reached the top of the hill at least 25 kids were already there sledding and snowboarding down it. Considering it was only about 6:45 AM the kids were pretty energetic and pumped. We climbed to the top of the hill and for a few carefree hours we enjoyed the simply joys of life as children.  We ran up and down that hill a million times until our cheeks were red but we were having too much fun to go home.
As we treaded up the hill for one more run down the hill, I saw a tall, windblown, figure standing at the top of the hill. “What is a parent doing at Anders Hill?” I wondered.” They must know that we are perfectly safe here.” As we climbed closer I saw that the tall figure was our mother. “Isaac, Matt, Heather” She called out “ I have some important news.” “ Mom” I cried, “ What’s the news?” “ Your cousin Melanie is dead. She died last night of Melanoma.” I was shocked and so was Isaac, “ I liked Melanie, she was so fun and lively.” And I remember standing on that cold hill thinking,” Melanie was only 14 when she died. I hope I don’t die when I’m that young.”
Melanie’s funeral was a blur a grieving people. I remember masses of family crying together, wishing us all good health. Melanie’s death had completely crept my parents out. And the reason that I am practically under house arrest is because of Melanie; because my parents wanted me to live, they would not take any chances after Melanie died. And starting, at 7 years old was the end, the end of my free life.



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