Fight Back

Date: 22nd October 2014. Weight: 8st 5lbs. Stage: Four. Estimated time of survival: Five months.

I don't think I've come to terms with what's happening to me. I know that I'm dying and there's not much time left for me. But I don’t accept it. I understand Infirma and I know how it works and how it weakens you until your heart has no choice but to give up. But I don't think that many people my age could accept that they were dying. Or that I was dying for that matter. That's why I can't tell anyone.
Maybe Hope would accept that I was dying. Maybe before I pushed her away and she would be there for me. But I could never tell her, not now. She was sitting not far away from me in the library. I could just go up to her and say it. But would I be able to? Muttering those words . . . I'm dying . . . it would make it all seem real. And I just couldn't turn my death into a reality, not yet anyway.
I went over scenario's and reactions in my head. I was so into doing this I didn't even notice Hope looking at me. No, not looking. She was glaring. She never really looked at me like that. She had her hand clenched around her cell phone and she looked like she was about to crush it to dust. It scared me seeing her like that. She shoved her things in her bag and then walked stonily towards my table. If looks could kill she'd put Infirma out of a job.
“Helena." Hope said coldly.
“What?” I replied.
“Do you know what I've just found out,” she demanded. “My parents have just officially split up, they're getting a divorce."
“Oh.” was all I could reply. I was more shocked than anything, her parents always seemed so happy.
“And you know what I thought? Oh, Helena will help me through it. But then I remembered, no she won't, because Helena has turned into a selfish bitch that only cares about her own easy life.” Hope spat. I looked at her for a minute, I felt bad that the only part of that statement I actually took in was the bit about my life being easy.
“So why are you here?” I asked nastily. “If I'm such a selfish bitch, why are you here?”
“I just...”
“Yes?”
“You should be there for me. I just thought you should know how pissed off I am at you and what I think of you.”
“So you're taking your petty problems out on me? Don't you think I have my own stuff to deal with? That my problems may just be worse than your dad fucking his secretary?" I spat. “And whatever you think about me, I guarantee others think worse but just don't have the guts to say it to me,” I laughed and packed my bag. “Goodbye Hope.” I said flatly and walked away.
I don't really know how I feel about Hope. I suppose some of what she said offended me, hurt me even. But I enjoyed that. I just enjoyed being a horrible person. Yes, I was way past the point of repair.
I pushed open the door to my history classroom and smiled at the sight of my desk. The class was full but Mike wasn't sitting in the chair next to mine. I saw the supply teacher and she frowned at me. “Sorry I'm late, Miss.” I told her and she nodded.
“What's your name?” she asked.
“Helena Jasper.” I replied and took my seat while she noted me down. I sat stretched out and dumped my bag down onto Mike's usual seat. It felt good just to know I wouldn't be near him today.
Then to my dismay in walked Mike Fuentes. His eyes glinted mischievously when he spotted the supply teacher, but then dulled when he realised the only free seat was next to mine. “Great." I muttered.
“What's your name?” the supply teacher asked.
“Michael Fuentes.” he replied.
“Very well, sit next to the girl in the back left,” she told him and I groaned. He walked sulkily towards me and I put my hand up. “Yes?” she asked.
“Sorry Miss, but he can't sit here.” I told her smoothly.
“And why not?” she asked and looked over her glasses.
“My bag is sitting here, and even though its just a bag I really think that it deserves the seat more than Mike.” I told her evenly and watched Mike smirk.
“And as its a boring, ugly object with no friends to appreciate its terrible sarcastic sense of humour, I think Helena could relate better to it." Mike added.
“Oh, witty.” I mocked.
“Thanks.”
“Sit!” the teacher spat and I rolled my eyes. “I want you to continue with your work." she barked and scratched at a spot on her chin.
“Wow Dread, she's nearly as pretty as you." Mike said sarcastically.
“That was clever, Mike, write it in your diary."
“No, I mean it. You really are so pretty and clever.”
“One of these days your going to say that and mean it.” I threatened and saw him laugh silently.
“Oh, I do mean it.” he continued dryly.
“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.”
“You're the lowest form of humanity.” Mike spat back.
Then for a moment I felt my eyes become heavy. The moment passed as quickly as it came but it had made me feel dizzy and raw. Bile had come up and I had to swallow hard.
Mike poked me sharply in the arm and I managed to turn and sneer at him. “Hey Dread, I didn't know you were famous.” he laughed and shoved the textbook in my face. I looked at the picture of a large, fat, hairy buffalo standing on the American plains. Then I threw the book back at him.
“Shut up." I hissed.
“Point one to Mike 'everyone loves me' Fuentes.” he said triumphantly and crossed his arms over his chest smugly.
I went to reply but I felt the bile rise up again. I clapped a hand to mouth to try and stop myself from being sick. I knew Mike was looking at me and I hated that he was seeing this.
“Are you okay?” Mike asked after a minute.
“I’m fine.” I managed to reply.
Then I picked up my bag and got up. I walked out quickly. I needed to get to a bathroom. I pushed open the door and had to hurry to the cubicle to lock it and bend over the toilet in time.
At first I saw everything leaving me. But then I closed my eyes, seeing that, almost like my health leaving me – ironically – sickened me.
When it had stopped I sat back and slumped against the cubicle wall. I managed to flush the toilet and reached up to wipe me mouth on the roll of tissue. I slid my phone out and scrolled down until I found Phil's number. The phone rang a few times but he answered, probably after seeing who was calling.
“Pippa?" Phil asked urgently.
“Phil.” I said weakly.
“Pippa, are you okay? You sound faint?”
“I've . . . I've been sick." I told him quietly and heard him let out a sharp breath.
“Okay, what happened?” he finally asked.
“I was in history . . I felt sick. Then I left for the bathroom. . . . I've been sick here.”
“Was there any blood in the vomit, Pippa?" Phil asked.
“I didn't look.” I said faintly.
“Shall I come over?” he asked.
“No, no. I'm fine, I was just letting you know." I muttered.
“Okay Pippa, I need you to get yourself home and to bed. Then sip some water and don't eat for at least three to four hours."
“Alex was never sick,” I said desperately. “Only when he was having the experimental therapy.”
“Everyone's different. You're not your brother," Phil replied firmly. “Now I need you to get some rest.”
“I will.”
“Promise?”
“Yeah.” I said and smiled a little.
“Promise."
“I promise.”
“Okay Pippa, bye.”
“Bye, Phil." I said and let my phone slip out of my hand and onto the floor.
After a few minutes I managed to stand up. I grasped the wall for support and looked into the mirror that was nailed to the back of the cubicle door. I lifted my shirt up and was horrified. My ribs were starting to show too much and my hips and collar bones I noticed were protruding. I was losing weight and I knew when the weight loss started it didn't stop. Mike was right, I do look ugly.

Notes

Hey! What did you think? Will Helena come to terms with it? What will happen to Mike? Is Helena getting worse? :)