Arcane Awakening

Some kids are playing at the hospital ground.

I stare at them nonchalantly, but still wondering from where they get the energy. The kid with white hair, Joseph, a patient of thyroid cancer, is currently holding hostage of a handball and wiggling with it. Another kid with constant attachment to tissue papers, Liana, diagnosed with acute pneumonia, is provoking him to pass the ball to her. The kid who seems a bit older than them, James, standing with the help of a crutch instead of a leg, watching them from aside and giggling at times.

Maybe I've had my fair share to live, maybe because I'm not young, maybe life hasn't been always fair to me, I can't feel joy like those kids. But it's alright, as I think to myself, since everything is bound to end one day and I'm no exception.

Hearing the click of the door, I look away from the window. Jenna, my little neighbour, enters the room with cheerful steps. I'm not sure if it's because of the pink ribbon on her hair, but she's looking brighter than usual.

"Miss Hazel!" she runs to my bed where I'm lying down, her eyes are brimming with excitement. "The nurse said I could take of the stickers off my hands today! Look," she attempts to show me her wrists, considering this as a big achievement.

"That's great, Jenna," I chuckle, feeling a bit better in my empty mind. "I hope you'll need those less in the future."

"Thank you! But I miss home though," she pouts and leans on the bed edge carefully. "I'm sure my dolls are crying in sadness since I'm not with them! By the way, Miss Hazel," she tilts her head towards me. "Will you come see my dolls one day, you know, when everything gets better? I have lots of them, which will make even you envious!"

I smile softly, "Sure, I will, if your parents allow me to. I'll make sure I visit you and your dolls, Jenna."

And I wait for the guilt to hit me for lying to a kid. Some things can't be changed and I'm a mere creation of the universe, I don't have much power to exceed my limitations.

When the sun sets, I slowly adjust my bed to lie down comfortably. That's what I have been doing for the past year, lying down, taking my pills according to the rules, savoring bland, antiseptic foods if I feel like it and use my every bit of strength to hop on the wheelchair and hover my way through the hallway.

I must have dozed off for a bit, since there are two whispering voices in the room. I immediately know who they might be, since they check up on me regularly to see if I have already used my ticket to the afterlife.

"Babe, I want that golden lined dress," I can imagine my sister hanging from the soon-to-be husband's neck, pouting and puffing her cheeks. "It's so cute, I really, really want it."

"But sweetie, it's so expensive, can I really afford it? You have to understand me," the husband softly tries to turn down her request.

"But I want that dress. And you love me, so you'll buy it for me at any cost, right?"

"Listen to me, sweetie."

"What about the life insurance money?" I can feel her glancing at me even with my eyes closed. "You talked with the company, right?"

"But we ain't getting the money until your sister dies. You know how the rules work, so why don't we go with the dress I chose?"

"Ah that woman, still holding onto her useless life!" my sister raises her voice and storms out the room. And the husband hurries behind to calm her down.

I open my eyes.

The neon light is so red, looks even redder than human blood. It's like a signal reminding me about the countdown, in every moment. I wonder about the organism behind the light and chuckle to myself without no reason.

When the supper time comes, I finish my food like a good kid, even though the food probably never heard of seasonings. And then I smile to the nurse who fed me, asking her to have a good night.

I wait patiently till it's midnight, one thing I'm good at. The noise quiets down slowly, soon there will be a change in the guards shift, which will take ten to fifteen minutes. Enough for me to use my last bit of strength for one last time and place my pathetic body on the wheelchair.

I try my best to lock the door and make it look like I'm sleeping inside. Another good thing is that any doctor won't do checkup on me at night, since my illness isn't severe anymore. Well, it's not severe right now, doesn't mean I'm getting any better either.

I sigh while passing Jenna's room, trying to conceal my sadness. I'm sure she will get better and be a great person in the future, away from this white rooms. I chuckle seeing the elevator opened, like even fate is helping me today. I don't forget to push a button down after I get off, I don't anyone to get sus thinking someone came to the top floor.

I struggle hard again, to gain motion, to reach the rooftop through the rally. Rooftop isn't banned to us patients, since everyone wants some fresh air, but the railing is half a human length high.

I grasp the hand stick I brought with me tightly, balancing myself leaning on the brick railing. The night sky is astonishingly beautiful tonight, with stars twinkling here and there. I look down at the roads, the city is still alive, filled with car horns and human clamoring. After a while, the noise will still be there, but I won't be. Life goes on, it's just not for me.

I slowly touch my face, wiping the tears off. I'm sure where they came from, but still I'm happy that I got to choose this decision by myself.

When I stand on the railing, my brain does a quick math. The building is eight storied, along with the rooftop, it can be considered as a nine. With average length of each floor, my velocity and friction forces, I'll probably take like four seconds to reach the ground. I can't help but giggle to myself, I didn't even like math in school.

There I stand, with the help of the stick, shaking involuntarily, but prepared to experience my end. Was my life worth it? Short answer, no. But there's nothing I can do anymore, except this, since my soul left me long ago.

I slowly let go of the stick.

Only after a few seconds, the sound of the wind passing my ears, a muffled shriek of my own, the crushing sound of my bones and immense pain everywhere, welcome my farewell.

Looks like the painkillers didn't work.