The doctors words echoed through my dying brain.
"You have five days, Winona."
"I'm sorry dear."
"Stop lying!" I screamed.
"I don't wanna die!" I sobbed, pounding my fists on the crappy hospital mattress.
"Mama, don't leave me!" I cried as my mother rushed out of the room in tears.
"You're not the one who's dying you selfish pig!" I screamed, pulling on my hair.
"Help me, p-please!"
_________________
I'm Winona Finley. I am 16 years old and I am very sick as my mother says. I don't know what's wrong with me though, the doctors refuse to tell me. They say it should be the last of my worries and that I just needed to be focused on being happy, which quite frankly is impossible to do when you know that you have a disease you don't understand. …show more content…
I would love to say that I'm like every other teenage girl, but I'm not.
I don't have friends, I don't go out shopping, I don't drink Starbucks, and I don't prance around in Uggs and tribal print leggings.
I am going to come out and say this though, I am the queen of fashion. I really do think my white hospital gown really brings out my eyes.
Quick, somebody call up Vogue! This depressed and slowly dying teen would make an awesome front cover!
On another note some fun facts about me are that I love shiba inus, my favorite food is hospital cafeteria BLTs, my favorite color is light green, and did I mention I'm dying?
It's scary to think that this will be one of my last days on this planet, I've got four more to go and I'm already bracing for the lovely existential crisis I'll be having tonight!
I don't know what I'm going to do these last few days
though.
It will probably be something uneventful and depressing like eating a crap ton of food and binge watching Netflix shows, which is basically everyday of my life already.
_______________
I look out into the hallway to see who was outside and I saw a tall boy awkwardly standing in the middle of the hall looking down glumly at the white tile floor, clutching a bouquet of flowers that were just as pale and sad looking as this place.
"Hi." I said, dying to have some social interaction with someone who wasn't a doctor, nurse, or my mother for once.
"Um, hello-" He begins to say, but pauses mid sentence to read the name tag on the outside of my door.
"Winona." He finishes with a small smile.
"I'm Dallon." He says.
Dallon looks like a paintbrush, but he's a pretty paintbrush dare I say it.
He has one of those trendy white boy haircuts that stuck up in the front and he also has a pretty set of blue eyes as well.
"Are you alright with me asking who you're seeing?" I said.
"It's fine, I'm seeing my mom." He answers.
"Are those flowers for her?" I ask, but I immediately regret it do to how dumb it sounds.
"Yes." He replies with a quiet chuckle.
"They're pretty, white roses are cool." I said, trying to be kind even though I had learned to hate white roses because they are the only flowers I ever get from my relatives when they come to visit me.
"Mr. Weekes, you can come in now." A nurse says.
"Alright, thank you ma'am." He replies politely.
"I'll be back." Dallon tells me before he disappears into the doorway.
___________________
I had never felt this way about anyone, especially a boy. There was just something about him that was really intriguing. I just don't know what it was though. It could've been his azure eyes, his insane, but comforting, height, or even his gentle way of speaking.