"So, Wednesday?" I say tiredly. "I'll die on a Wednesday?"
"Yes." The doctor says, jotting notes down on a chart. I'm lying in a hospital bed, and their checking my muscles. Every so often something will twitch. The inside of my cheek is raw and bloody from being bitten so many times.
"But that's not even an exciting day." I groan. "Why can't I die on like, and fun day?" I'm not even sure what I'm saying at this point. I'm trying to find something to complain about, so I'm able to whine about my death, because it scares me that I feel such peace towards my passing.
"Well, because you and your mother decided that you wouldn't get any more medicine after Wednesday."
"After Wednesday?" I repeat slowly, just to make sure I heard him right.
"Yes. We won't be giving you the normal medicine, but rather some anesthetic to help you pass. Does that sound alright?"
"Yeah. Whatever." I mutter. I bite my cheek again as my hip begins to twitch fiercely. The coppery taste of blood settles on my tongue, and for the first time I feel scared of dying.