I looked up at my dear friend nervously. Dark bags stood out in her otherwise pale face, she seemed to be drained of all color. Having noticed my worried facial expression, she smiled, but the cheerfulness did not reach her eyes.
“Don’t worry about me, Hellebore,” she said softly.
“You’re in pain,” I bit my bottom lip in order to stifle my next words.
“Of course I’m in pain; cancer and chemo usually result in pain,” she shrugged. It was obvious that she regretted the slight movement, for she stiffened her shoulders and drew her next breath sharply.
You don’t have to be in pain.
I threw the words to the back of my mind. How was I supposed to tell her something like that? How was I just supposed to tell her the truth?
“Oh, don’t give me that look.” A slight smile graced her pale lips, this time it was real.
I thought about how often she used to smile before all this happened, how optimistic she was. Even now, though optimism is the best mindset for this sort of situation, she was still so hopeful, and I didn’t understand how that could be. Still, it was obvious that her happiness was dying along with her body. I could smell her illness, I could see it slowly killing her – these treatments weren’t going to help her, it had progressed much too far. And she knew, on some level, she knew this.
“What look?” I inquired.
“That I-wish-I-could-help look you’ve been giving me every day since they found the cancer. Everyone has been giving me that look. Everyone. I don’t need my best friend pitying me too.” She slowly raised her arm in order to play with the scarf wrapped around her head, hiding the last wisps of caramel hair she had.
“I…I don’t pity you…” My words came out slower than I would have liked.
She laughed with derision, “Oh really? You don’t?”
“No, I don’t,” I said, this time with a little more confidence.
“I guess I have no choice but to believe you.” After a moment’s thought, she said, “I suppose all it took was me getting cancer in order for you to learn to speak up for yourself.”
I didn’t appreciate the joke, but I forced a smile onto my features. It must’ve been too forced, since she rolled her eyes. She didn’t want me here, not while I was going to sit around and do nothing but frown at her. At the same time, what else could I have done? Emotion wasn’t a strong point of mine, and neither was acting. I was genuinely concerned for her, she was the closest anyone had ever come to being my friend, and now, she was going to be taken prematurely. She should’ve had a full life ahead of her, but no, she was going to die, and a freak like me was going to live. I had caused so much pain in my life that there was no possible way I could redeem myself. My best friend, on the other hand, was loved by many people. She never caused pain, save for the heartbreak some males experienced over her. She tried her hardest to do well in school, to make her parents proud of her.
This just wasn’t fair.
I had to do something about this; at the very least, I had to try. She was right, I pitied her instead of supporting her; in other words, I wasn’t being a very good friend, and I had to fix this mistake.
After a few moments of struggle, I contorted my face into the closest thing to a smile that ever graced my features, and I took her hand. Surprise filled her eyes, and she glanced down at our hands.
“You can stop smiling…I know it’s not your thing,” she said. “I just don’t want you to look at me like I’m a fragile doll, like everyone else does.”
I nodded and tightened my grasp just a little.

*

Half past midnight should be late enough, I decided before picking up my cell phone. Having stared at it for the past hour and a half, I felt confident. Maybe.
I listened to the silence impatiently, my muscles stiff. I was starting to think that he would never pick up the phone when I heard the familiar voice,
“Hello?”
I said nothing in return; suddenly I was regretting making this call.
“Hellebore?” The voice came across as uncertain.
“Father…” I whispered.
“It’s been a long time since you last called me.” I could hear the smile spreading over his lips.
“Yes…”
“Now that you’re older, you’re too good for your daddy?”
“I haven’t called you that in years.”
“Let’s just say that you haven’t called in years.”
Has it really been that long?
“I…I want to ask you something.”
“Go ahead.”
A million and one questions raced through my mind.
“My-my friend is dying.”
“Which friend? What happened?” Concern filled his usually confident voice.
“M-Mary…she has stage 3 leukemia…”
“Well, I know you’re very close, but what does that have to do with your question?” He wasn’t a fool, he knew what I wanted to ask him, but I think he wanted to hear the words, hear me admit that I needed him; particularly, that side of him.
“I want you to turn her.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. You know that I can’t do that. I’m only a Dhamphir.”
“Are you sure she would be okay with that?”
“I wanted to make sure you’re okay with doing that, first.”
“My dear daughter, my dear, dear daughter. You know that I’m willing to do anything for you; you didn’t even need to ask.” Because I’m so desperate to have you accept me, that I’m willing to break my own rules, I mentally filled in.