Black Cord

A short little story about a young girl diagnosed with end stage melanoma, her fight to hold on to her hope, and to find her courage to let go and accept her fate.

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12. twelve. the finish line awaits.

Everything hurts as my eyes flutter open. I shut them as the bright lights are blinding. I keep them shut. It's safer there, in the dark.

The breathing, the rhythmatic breathing of the heart monitor, is almost calming.

I'm.....alive.

I feel something in my throat. I try to say something, I'm not sure what, but all that comes out is a groan. Dr. Mackenzie's voice is suddenly in my head:

"Sweetheart. It's Dr. Mackenzie. Don't try to talk. You stopped breathing, so we had to put a tube in your throat to help you breathe. It will also help push oxygen into your brain, heart, etc...you know..."

No...I don't know.

".....could be an indicator that the cancer has spread to your heart and lungs..."

Why am I alive? Why are you testing me, God?

"Are you hearing this, honey?" My mom interrupts my thoughts. I open my eyes. The lughts aren't so bad now. I nod to my mom. Though I wish I were in Heaven or wherever I'm going, it's a good feeling, having them here, talking to me, even though I can't talk back.

I blink and a single tear falls. I don't want to die. But I will anyways. I'm nearing the end of my rope. That's terminal. It's my reality. And it sucks.

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