Refuse The helpMature

I look into the doctor’s eyes and shake me head. My daughter inhales sharply, and exhales; I can feel the tension leave her hand.


“Are you sure?” she asks. I squeeze her hand and smile. The doctor scribbles something on his clipboard and excuses himself from the room. My daughter stays with me for the rest of the day, telling me all about her job, her son, the house they have. I drift off to sleep again, and when I wake, she has fallen asleep too.

The days turn into weeks, and weeks into months. Nearly every day she is with me, and sometimes with her son. I cannot sit up without having pain, and I can no longer open my mouth. The boy is showing me a dinosaur book, telling me all about them. He makes a joke and laughs, and he looks into my eyes.

He has exactly the same shade of brown as the woman in the photo, and though I am a prisoner to a body that no longer moves, I feel myself stretch a hand towards him, and ruffle his hair and then I walk to the window, and look back to see Caroline hugging Owen, whispering to him and he leaves the room. She stares at the empty bed and doesn’t stop her tears from falling. I leave the window for a minute, and stand beside her, placing my hand on her shoulder. She turns around and smiles at me, and I smile back. Then I return to the window and feel myself being pulled through it and upwards above the grey clouds and into a light more radiant than the sun.

The End

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