Isaac

Augustus Waters left us three months ago. He was always a selfish git. Now Hazel and I have to carry on with our lives, I blind and She dying.
The fault, dear reader, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.
How ever shall we cope?

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2. Promises

"Hazel Grace," I smile, as I hear her footsteps enter the room. You become accustomed to an individual's noises when you lose your sight. I feel the couch move as she sits next to me.

"Hey, Isaac." She whispers. I can hear tears in her voice. She sniffs and I reach out my hand.

"How you feeling?" I ask, knowing the answer. "That selfish son-of-a-bitch getting to you?" Her thumb moves in circles on my knuckle.

"In a sense," She says, and I squeeze her hand. "That's not really it, though."

"What is it then?" I say, leaning against the armrest. Mom told me that she'd bought a new couch a few weeks ago, but this one felt exactly the same as our old purple sofa bed. So I imagined it was.

I can feel her eyes bore in to me. Lucky thing. The only thing my eyes bore into anymore is a container in some faraway research hospital, waiting to be prodded and tested and examined. So, in a way, they're just like cancer patients.

"Isaac, you know-"

"Yeah, I do! But," I sigh. I don't want to think about this. "I just. AARGH!" I lash out, aiming to kick whatever I can, and in the process knocking over Phillip. Hazel gasps.

"I'm so sorry!" I say, fumbling for her oxygen tank. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry." I whisper, facing my head towards the floor. I take deep, shaking breaths.

"Isaac, it's okay. You just knocked it over that's all. I'm fine. I promise." Her hand rests on my shoulder and I wince at the word. 'Promise'. What does that even mean anymore? No promise is ever kept, let alone meant. And to make things even better, I start to cry.

When Monica left me I was devastated. It hurt me that she didn't want to be with me anymore. That she couldn't handle it. That my love for her wasn't enough to keep her with me. That her love wasn't strong enough to want to still see me everyday. It wasn't as if I was dying. I was just going blind. No biggie - right? Apparently she didn't think so.

My crying is awful. Tears and snot stream down my face, and I'd hate to think what I look like. Hazel mops up what's dripping off my chin, and I lean forward to press my head against her shoulder.

"Don't leave me, Hazel." I whisper. "You're all I've got." My throat tightens.

"I'm not going anywhere," She whispers back, stroking my hair. "I'll be r-right here." Her voice catches and we both know she's just trying to console me. She won't be right here. Not for much longer, anyway. Support group Hazel is dying.

 

 

 

 

 

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