Total pages in book: 215
Estimated words: 199344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 997(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 997(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
The pain has taken over, and it’s worse than I was prepared for, even more so now that my organs have started to surrender. They’re giving up, and every day, it only gets harder.
It won’t be long now. Maybe a few days, and I’ve never been so scared. I’m not ready to leave this world without him. I don’t want to be just a memory.
Getting out of bed has become a chore too challenging to tackle until it’s absolutely necessary, and when I do, I need Noah right there holding me up. And in those times when it gets too much and my mind clouds with fear, Noah makes love to me until all I know is the all-consuming bond we share.
I can’t lie. I’m terrified of what waits for me on the other side. Will I see Linc? Will I slip away into nothingness? Or will there be a whole world waiting for me with all the adventures Mom promised? But I’m also terrified of what I’m leaving behind. Mom and Dad will be devastated, crushed, and broken beyond repair, but they’ll hold each other up. Noah and Hazel on the other hand . . . Every time I think about it, my world burns to ashes around me.
I’ve spent the last few weeks immersed in my laptop, writing away, only over these past few days, I haven’t had the strength to finish it. Or perhaps it’s the courage I’m lacking. I know what comes next, but I don’t know how to put that into words.
Kelly—my home care nurse and my nurse from the treatment center—finishes checking my vitals, and the sad, encouraging smile on her face tells me that tonight is not the night. She’s been with me right from the start of that first round of chemo, and since then, we’ve somehow developed some kind of silent way to communicate. I know exactly what she’s trying to tell me by just the simplest flicker in her honey eyes. She was really rooting for me. She really wanted me to be able to pull through this, and over these past six or so months, she’s become family.
Finishing up with her usual treat for Allie, she strides out of my room, closing the door behind her. As she gives my parents an update out in the hallway, I do what I can to block out their muffled voices. I can’t bear to hear how I only have a few days left.
Instead, I pull out the pen and notepad I’ve been busy writing in and get back to work, wanting to leave a little something for the people who mean the most to me.
Tonight’s letter—Hazel.
Noah sits beside me, giving me the privacy I need to write, but I’m not going to lie, I see the few times he peeks over my shoulder, reading the words I’m writing to my little sister. He just can’t help himself, but when the time comes for me to pick up this very notepad and write the words Dear Noah at the top, I don’t know how I’m going to get through it.
It’s well after nightfall when I stuff the five-page essay into the envelope and scrawl Hazel’s name across the front, and I’m exhausted. I can barely hold my own head up, but as I glance over at Noah, watching the way he watches me, I know I have to do this now because come tomorrow, I don’t know if I’ll have the strength to even try.
“Noah,” I say, my voice croaky as a lump forms in my throat.
His eyes are instantly wide, scanning over my face, about ready to launch himself off my bed and race for help. “What’s wrong?” he rushes out. “Are you okay? What do you need?”
“I’m . . . I’m okay,” I breathe, my words getting harder to string into complete sentences. “I just . . . will you take me . . . out to the roof?”
“The roof?” he questions, already shaking his head. “Baby, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“There’s some things I want to talk to you about,” I say, taking a deep breath and trying to ignore the pain, but truth be told, it’s not so bad right now, not after Kelly just dosed me up. “And I just . . . I want to sit in your arms and . . . and look at the stars.”
His brows pinch in concern, and I see in his eyes as he wars with himself over what to do, but ultimately, he’s not going to tell me no, not now. “Okay,” he finally says, taking the blanket and easing it back off my thin legs. “You’re not to let go of me.”
I nod, knowing that’s not even going to be a problem because he’ll be the one holding on to me, refusing to let me fall.