Something Worth Living For

Inspired by 'Another Last Goodbye', a screenplay by Prodigy.


4. Three


The next morning, Blair is out of her bed, sitting in a chair beside Regan’s bed as they talk in hushed tones. The door to the room is open. Nurses pass by periodically, but thankfully none stop long enough to listen in on what they’re talking about.


“You said you can drive, right?” Regan asks, keeping her voice low. “My car is in the parking lot.”


Blair’s eyes widen. “You have a car here?”


The blonde nods, remembering where it is parked. “My parents left it as a sign of hope.” A heavy silence hangs in the air for a brief second, but it’s quickly disrupted by Regan coughing. “So, anyway. I have almost two thousand pounds in my bank account from wasting my summer working. If you get me wherever I’m going, you can keep whatever’s left.”


“Where is it that you want to go, exactly?”


Images of the world flash through Regan’s mind: saturated postcard landscapes that only existed within the pages of her old scrapbook. She doesn’t have the time or the money to go to one of those places, so she’ll settle for the next best thing. “The mountains. The forests. I don’t care, just somewhere with nature.”


Blair catches her lip between her front teeth, biting down on it for a second. “What about your family?”


Regan’s calm composure slips for a second, revealing the sadness beneath, but she quickly covers it. Her voice is barely above a whisper when she speaks. “No parent should have to watch their child die. We all know it’s coming. They’ve prepared themselves.” She glances down at her notebook, open on her lap. “I’ve written them a note.”


Blair nods. “When do you want to leave?”


“I’m ready when you are. Maybe after you get discharged? I have a plan.”


Blair is about to ask for more, but a nurse enters, ending their conversation. She stands slowly. “We’ll talk later.”




Blair is discharged the next morning. She spends an hour or so at the reception desk, standing behind a rough looking man – her father – who signs her papers. The receptionist fakes a smile as she takes the papers, checks through each one, then discovers another line for him to sign on. When they’re done, he grunts, grabs Blair by the arm, and pulls her from the hospital.


Regan’s car keys are tucked in her palm. She keeps as eye out for the car – a red Toyota Yaris – as they cross the car park, hoping that she won’t have to hit the panic button on the keys and draw any attention to herself when she returns. She spots it parked close to the hospital doors, and breathes a sigh of relief.


She spends the rest of the day sat at home in her bedroom, avoiding going downstairs so she doesn’t have to see how her parents won’t look her in the eye. They turn up the radio to full volume, but Blair can still hear the bitter things that they say about her. Because of that, she feels less guilty about slipping out her bedroom window and sprinting down the street as soon as the sun sets.


The next part of Regan’s plan involves Blair sneaking into a back entrance of the hospital. She walks with purpose down the hallway, avoiding eye contact with passing nurses. She rounds a corner and finds several wheelchairs stacked against a wall. She takes one and heads for the door, nearly running into a familiar nurse in the process. It’s Regan’s nurse, but she meets Blair’s eyes and walks past as if Blair is invisible. Frowning, Blair dismisses the encounter and exits the hospital through the way that she entered.


Regan’s words echo through her mind as she pushes the wheelchair through the car park: “We can’t leave through the hospital; all the nurses know me too well. Bring the wheelchair around to my window.”


Blair sneaks around the building, trying to search for Regan’s window without looking too suspicious. She counts the windows down the side of the building until she finds the right one, one that’s open, and opens the wheelchair beneath it. She steps onto the seat and boosts herself up and through the window.


Inside the room, Regan is sat on her bed wearing street clothes. She grins as soon as she sees Blair. “You made it.”


Blair smiles back. “I did.”


“Do you have the wheelchair?”


Blair nods. “The car isn’t that far away, too.” She gestures vaguely outside.


Regan’s grin widens. “Great. Let’s get out of here.”


With Blair’s help, Regan pulls herself to her feet and starts making her way towards the window, pulling out tubes and wires along the way. She winces at some unseen pain.


Blair frowns. “Are you sure you don’t need-”


“I don’t want them.” Regan cuts her off before latching onto Blair’s arm as they walk towards the window together. She sits on the ledge and swings her legs out through the window. She slides out, her feet resting on the seat of the wheelchair before she lowers herself into a sitting position.


Blair takes one last look at the room. She catches sight of the notebook left on Regan’s pillow, and she resists the urge to read the words scrawled across the pages. She swallows hard, then slips out the window, hopping onto the ground below. Taking hold of the wheelchair handles, she guides Regan towards the battered red car and helps her into the passenger’s seat before folding the wheelchair into the backseat.


When Blair is seated behind the steering wheel, she glances over at Regan. “You’re certain that you want to do this?”


Regan replies without any hesitation. “Absolutely. Are you?”


Instead of answering, Blair starts the engine. A pair of headlights pull away from the hospital.


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