Today is the day.
It has been ten years, and today is the day.

The mirror-me states back, a black hole in the form of a too-skinny, pale, sickly looking girl. Mirror-me sucks it all out. The pain. The worry. The thoughts. The life.
The thing it is most gracious for sucking out is the life.
Real-me can't take it anymore. Can't take hurting these people.
Mirror-me meets my hand with hers on the glass. The lighter skin raised on her wrists—remnants of miserable days in almost as desperate of times—shines across mirror-me's pale complexion in the shrill fluorescent floodlight. Real-me knows that she has the exact same ones. After all, they can only keep an IV in one place for so long. She also has the same empty eyes.
The person that was once contained in them has already gone into hibernation for the winter.

Today is the day.
The hour is closer than ever.
It has been ten years, and today is the day.

I was six when they found the first trace. They said that it was just a bit. Chemo-controllable. And the radiation would be a breeze. Losing hair? No... The amount of treatment that I'd be receiving wouldn't cause those symptoms.
And "Oh, honey. Are you the most beautiful little thing?"
I got a lot of that.
But "just a bit" turns into a fatal dosage quickly when it's leukemia. Hospital bills fly sky-high and the PET machine's favorite color is always glowing.
And my mother. She was always crying.

Today is the day.
The hour is closer than ever.
The clock ticks are magnified to a roar.
It has been ten years, and today is the day.

When I was five, my father would let me stand on his toes and we would go dancing around the living room. The music was always either inaudible or the Beatles, and it flowed between father and daughter in an awe-inspiring way.
Mom would turn away from her pot of potato soup on the stove and watch us, laughing along from her post in the kitchen.
We were always three peas in a pod, mom, dad, and I. Always finding enjoyment from the least likely of things. Like scavenger hunters looking for a new adventure.
My dad died the summer I turned six. He took a bullet to the chest in a Beijing sting-op. They always told him that the best FBI agents don't get to stay with their families for very long.
They were right. Because he's gone from this world forever, no matter how long his legacy lives on through those insignificant little medals they keep giving us. As if that will ever make up for it.
I lost my best friend that day. Mom did too.

Today is the day.
The hour is closer than ever.
The clock ticks are magnified to a roar.
Everything has slowed around me.
It has been ten years, and today is the day.

I was in the hospital for two years the first round. They would have me come in every two weeks for chemo until it got worse. Then it turned into every week. Then I was too weak to go home. Eventually, I was to the brink of death. The doctors swore I would never see nine.
But, miracle of all miracles, the chemo actually started working, and I saw nine. Then ten. And eleven. But, now, everyone knows that I won't see seventeen. Miracles don't happen twice.

Today is the day.
The hour is closer than ever.
The clock ticks are magnified to a roar.
Everything has slowed around me.
The nurse comes in, checks my stats, and shakes her head.
It has been ten years, and today is the day.

Remission is a bitch. Excuse my French, but it's true. It will fool you for years into having hope that everything is going to be fine.
It sure fooled me. I'm not that stupid anymore. I was in remission for seven and a half years. Then, at a routine six-month check up, the PET lit up like Times Square. I just sat there, stone cold and impassive as the doctor rambled on about our options. Somehow, somewhere deep down inside, I'd always known that this moment would come.
It was the hospital that became our new home that day.
But "sweetheart, you should just see the house I've got picked out for us when you get out of here. It's one of those brick townhouses in the historic district like you've always wanted."
We both knew that coming to Baltimore would be my last move. John Hopkins is good, but they can't work miracles.
And my mother. She was always crying.

Today is the day.
The hour is closer than ever.
The clock ticks are magnified to a roar.
Everything has slowed around me.
The nurse comes in, checks my stats, and shakes her head.
The doctor is trying to calm my mother in the hallway.
It has been ten years, and today is the day.

I have died two times in my life. It sounds impossible, but it's true. Both times were on the e-med flight to Baltimore. Before I got on the plane, my mother pleaded to fly with us. She didn't want to leave me.
My consciousness slowly fading, so "ma'am, we don't have time to argue with you. If we delay any longer, she might not make it."
He was wrong, of course. There was no further delay, but I only made it thirty minutes before I was gone.
People always ask me what it was like—being dead. It was the best sleep I've ever had. But the shock... That hurt like hell.
And the second time I coded, having to wake up was even worse.
That deep sleep—death. I didn't have to think about the pain of the cancer. I didn't have to worry about my hair that was falling out by the fistfuls. About my mother's pain. About her having to watch her last family member slowly die away. About the med bills or the boy that I had loved and who had loved me back. Well, that is, until we found out exactly how bad the cancer was—the rate that it was spreading at. Then Josh decided that he couldn't handle dealing with a girlfriend that was becoming fast friends with the grim reaper.
But, obviously I didn't die forever. And Josh? I kinda don't blame him.

Today is the day.
The hour is closer than ever.
The clock ticks are magnified to a roar.
Everything has slowed around me.
The nurse comes in, checks my stats, and shakes her head.
The doctor is trying to calm my mother in the hallway.
There's a "get well soon" card from all of my classmates back home sitting on the window ledge.
It has been ten years, and today is the day.

A/N:

So, this is my first time to actually post a story to FanFiction...

Is this A/N awkward as it feels? Haha. Sorry.

BUT... Please review!

Constructive criticism is always welcome!

Thanks!

Inez