Day 15:
I woke up this morning, and we went to the big white building again. Daddy took me this time and told me it was called a hospital.
I had to sit in the lumpy chair again, and I was given bigger pills to eat so I wouldn’t be sick. I guess they didn’t work that well. I still felt pukey every day. And it was starting to hurt a lot more.
Day 26:
I woke up, and Mama told me it was time. Most of it was on my bed or in the shower anyway.
I hated the way I looked after. It made me feel naked.
The only good thing to come out of that day was the new hat Mama bought me. It was pink and had yellow flowers on it. It was pretty like before.
Daddy came home late that night. He was excited, though, which was nice for a change. I heard him talking to Mama about some big thing at work that could change our lives. I guess Mama didn’t like it, she started yelling at him. They argued for a little while. I cried alone in my bed, clutching myself dearly because I didn’t want to vomit again.
Day 40:
Today we went to the hospital. But not to sit in the lumpy chair, for a checkup. It was hard, and I could barely move my arms. I just felt so tired. When we were there, the strange woman told me I had to stay in bed from now on, so I could focus on getting better. She gave me a piece of fabric, called a bandana. She said it was a type of hat that cool kids wore. Mama put it on for me. It was grey and covered most of my head. I didn’t like it, but I wore it because Mama was crying. They put me in a wheelchair so I could leave the hospital; my legs didn’t work anymore.
Day 67:
I woke up, a little excited because today was supposed to be my last time sitting in the lumpy chair. Was I all better?
We went to the strange woman’s office to talk after they poked me with a needle again.
I could not understand any of the big words they were using (terminal, advanced-stage, palliative?). Two words stuck out to me, though:
“I’m sorry.”
I didn’t know how long I was asleep, but I woke up to a woman’s painful, blood-curdling scream. It sounded horrible.
I realised it was Mama. I had never seen her cry like this before. And then I looked at Daddy, and we all cried.
Day ??:
I woke up this morning – no, at night? It was dark when I woke up. But was it the night I went to sleep, or the next night? I’ve been in this bed for too long.
Was time even real anymore?
I could barely move – everything hurt.
I couldn’t even swallow anymore, so no more ice cream.
A strange woman dressed in teal clothing put a tube in my nose a few nights ago, so I wouldn’t be hungry and have to eat.
My daddy told me everything will be okay.
“No, dear.”
And I didn’t understand.
And then one day, Daddy came home with a big smile on his face.
His eyes looked quite funny, though. Maybe he got to eat some ice cream. Ice cream makes me happy.
So, I asked Daddy if he had eaten ice cream.
He shushed me and told me we couldn’t wake Mama.
“Don’t worry. It’ll all be over soon.”
He pulled out a strange-looking machine and put it on my head.
It hurt, way more than all of it before. But I couldn’t scream.
- Couldn’t. Move. A. Thing.
Day 105:
“Time of death, 4:02 AM.”
Day 106:
——————
(.)
LOADING….
LOADING….
All systems: FUNCTIONING
Begin protocol – open eyes.
Identifying… identifying…
SPECIES: human.
Mama.
Daddy.
Protocol: Bark in delight.
“Welcome back home,
Luna.”
How could you?
