Waiting Room

I sat motionlessly in the dark, grubby, dim, and lifeless room, gently tracing the rim of her emerald ring. The shine that it once gave off was no more; it portrayed nothing of the memory that I had of it. The sound was blurred and somehow seemed to have slowed down, and the only thing that echoed through my head was the ticking of the smoke-stained clock that hung just above the receptionist’s desk. I started shuffling in the plastic chair as my mind began to conflict with itself, debating how to react. “I’m only seventeen, so how do I stay strong?” One part of me questioned, while the other argued: “You fight this!” “What if you can’t fight this though; what then do you do? How do you let go of someone that has been with you every step of the way? What if this is the one battle that is not in your favour?” My thought was bluntly interrupted by a high-pitched scream and with a connection so strong; I instantly knew that it was her. The brief sound was followed with an unforgettable action: the mint door slammed open, crashing against the white walls with such force, that it woke me from my self-pity like nothing else could. She stumbled through the door hands pressed to her chest, tears streaming, face struck with pure fear. Before she could reach me, she dropped to her knees, sobbing, “Please no…not me.” My voice switched to mute. With nothing to say, I stood and rushed towards her, collapsing to my knees cradling her, a little like the way she would do to me as a child when I fell and hurt myself. Kissing her forehead, I dried her tears and whispered the only thing that I could… “I won’t let it take you mum.” “I promise.”

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