The Girl with the Glass Heart

TW: themes of death

The room smells like sick people and crushed dreams.

Antiseptic fills my nose with its painfully real smell.

I can't quite remember why I'm here. I've talked to the nurses, or the doctors, but they all just give me a sad smile and say, "You will one day."

The only thing I remember is my bed. The one with soft pillows and a nice, purple blanket that my grandma got for me. I feel terrible, and I keep slipping in and out of consciousness. What's the point of living if you're not even going to really be living half the time?

My breaths are deep, shallow, and I can't talk for too long without gasping for air.

I am only twenty years old, but I feel like I'm a hundred years old. Everybody else in my ward is, except for Cassidy, who originally got a life prognosis of two-three weeks, but she's gone on for at least a month now. We talk through the phone sometimes, but I can't do it a lot of the time. She can. She's gotten stronger, and she can even take baby steps now. I can't. I'm stuck here, slowly, well, rapidly, dying.

One day, a doctor that I had seen before came in. What did she come for again? Oh no. I'm screwed.

"Blythe. How are you feeling today?" She asked. How am I feeling? Well, I'm about to die, thank you. I'm feeling just dandy.

I croaked an answer between 'fine' and 'no'. The doctor smiled and continued talking as if I was just in for stitches, or something small.

"My name is Doctor Mathew, and I'm here to tell you how long you have left to live," she said. I froze. I'd be awaiting this day since the second I appeared in this bed. The way she said it, she sounded like she was just delivering another daily weather report, or the price of your kid's favorite cereal, not somebody's life duration.

My jaw clenched, and my shoulders tensed. I'd been awake for about ten minutes, so I wouldn't be surprised if I slipped out of consciousness again soon. I closed my eyes for a second, rubbing the edge of my middle finger on my thumb. I took another deep breath, that became hitched as they do now.

I opened my eyes, and the doctor, who wasn't about to die anytime soon, cleared her throat.

"Okay, Blythe. First off, I'm sorry for this outlook. The tumor isn't going anywhere anytime soon, and you may live longer, become healthier, like Cassidy over there, but, uh... you've got about a week left. Maybe shorter."

My jaw lightened up, only to go slack. A week? Maybe shorter? I hadn't called anybody, and who knows how strong my hands were to write a letter. Who would I say goodbye to? Would anybody want to say goodbye to me?

I felt a tear escape my eyes as Doctor Mathew frowned, giving me pity on a platter with cilantro on the side, and walked out.

How could this have happened so fast? What did she say about a tumor? Is that why I was here? I had built this world, why was it all falling apart? Why, why, why?

My head throbs with each thought, so all that is left is to go to sleep. A part of me does not want to wake up after I drift away into sleep, but I simply close my tear-filled eyes and go to sleep.

I listen to the heart monitor as I slowly wake up from my sleep. I don't know how long I slept for, or what time it is now. I don't even care. I just want all my pain to be gone, for all my suffering to cease. I just want to sleep.

But I was just sleeping, wasn't I?

I close my eyes, and nothing happens. My mind still runs like an old clock. Moving, but at a slow pace, not keeping up as it should. It never has, really.

I try to think of what to do in this short amount of time. I'm stuck here all the time, with nurses looming over me, three-week-old roses on my bedside table, and random tubes clipped onto a couple fingers. And that constant beeping of the heart monitor. I had gotten used to it, but sometimes I just want to hurl it away into the abyss.

The first day of my week left to live is uneventful. Very, depressingly uneventful. I eat the disgusting hospital food that tastes like dog food, but then I remember a documentary I saw about children who thought that this was the best food they had eaten in years. I ate, but then I threw it all up. As normal.

I'm so tired, all the time. The nurses told me that Cassidy got out of bed the other day. I tell them to send her my congrats. Suddenly, my fingers itch. So do my feet. I want to run. I always liked running. I sat up, and then immediately regretted it. Sitting up? Almost impossible. Trying to run? No chance, buddy.

But I really wanted to. Maybe with a wheelchair.

I closed my eyes, and the second day came.

I had a sparkling idea in my brain.

"Patricia?" I motioned to the nurse, making my voice as loud as it could be.

"Yes, Blythe?" She said, rushing over to my side, checking all the tubes.

"Can you tell Cassidy to come?" I asked. She looked at me with an eyebrow raised. "Uh, sure," she said.

Cassidy came in walking on a cane, her messy red hair pulled into two pigtails. Pigtails looked so good on her.

"Hey, Blythe," She said. I shooed Patricia away, and she laughed, rolling her eyes, and whispered something to Cassidy. Cassidy nodded, and then turned back to look at me. Suddenly, I felt my stomach turning. Cassidy was... beautiful? No, no, I'm dying in a week. No crushes.

I re-centered my focus as she walked over to my bed, groaning a little as she sat in the hard chair next to my bed, the same chair that had been vacant for over a month now. I think it was a month? A really long time, at least.

"Cassidy, I need your help. I want to run." I told her. She raised her eyebrows, and then smirked.

"I see. I actually did this thing a while ago, when I was in your state, and..."

"What was it like?"

"Whoa, okay. Well, I may or may not have gone up to the roof. And somebody may or may not have pushed me in that wheelchair right there,"

"We can get onto the roof? Cassidy, I'm sold,"

"So, what's your plan, Blythe?"

"Eek! I'm actually so excited now! OK- so, at midnight, or at least when the nurses have left for a little bit, you're gonna come in my room, but be really quiet, and then somehow, you're gonna help me get into that wheelchair, and then we're gonna ride the elevator to the top floor, and then somehow get to the roof through there. You will push me, which will work out for the both of us, and I can write a note on my bed so that Patricia doesn't have a heart attack when she comes in and sees no Blythe in the bed,"

"Perfect plan! You actually get through the roof from the kitchen, which is on the top floor, so yeah. You will have to climb a ladder, though, so be prepared."

"Got it. Well... see you tonight!"

"Yeah!"

Patricia came back in, and Cassidy left with an ominous smile. Patricia looked at me and said, "What are y'all planning now?" I smirked and laughed a little, replying with 'nothing'.

Here me and Cassidy were, in our twenties, planning to escape from a hospital. Talk about reckless teens. We should be drinking (underage, gasp), planning our lives, but instead we're here with (probably) poisonous food - no, slop - and planning an escape like we were in middle school, going to the 24 hour gas station at midnight.

I felt light the rest of the day, and this was the first time in a long time that I hadn't been able to sleep. Butterflies were in my stomach, but I'm not some horny teen.

Cassidy was important to me. Even if this was the first time we'd had a conversation where I hadn't forgotten what she had just said or slipped out of consciousness. I closed my eyes for a little bit, and then heard a soft knock at my door. A burst of electricity went through me as Cassidy opened the door, her red hair glowing in the faint moonlight. It was really pretty.

"You ready?" She asked. I nodded, like this was the only chance I had. It was.

She carefully lifted me out of the bed as much as she could, and rolled the wheelchair under my feet as she held her back. She winced a little, and I gave her a concerned look, but then she smiled. I smiled.

We rolled almost silently through the halls, the adrenaline pumping through my head.

We got to the elevator, and I jumped a little when it dinged. Cassidy smiled, laughing a little, and then we rode up to the top floor, where our escape laid.

"Oh my God, this is so dangerous," I said as Cassidy hoisted me up on the ladder. I wasn't even sure I could make it up there, much less down. What if the fire department had to come? What would I do then?

Finally, I made it up to the roof. It was so fun.

"Cass?" I yelled down there.

"Yeah?"

"You coming up?"

"I'm trying to."

Oh no. It hadn't occurred to me that Cassidy might not be able to make it up.

Suddenly, her hand appeared on the roof. I felt somewhat relieved.

She sat next to me, near the edge but not near enough, and sighed.

"I forgot what it was like to be up here," She said.

"It's so beautiful,"

"Hey, look, it's Ophiuchus!"

"What is that? I mean, obviously it's a star, but like,"

"It's a constellation. It's actually seen almost everywhere, except for some extreme polar regions. I think it's really cool. Ugh, don't mind me nerding out about stars."

"No, no, you're fine. That's really cool. I like Ophiuchus now."

"That's nice. It's actually associated with healing and all that stuff, so it makes sense why we like it here,"

"Huh. Well, I still think it's pretty."

"Hey, Blythe?"

"Yeah?"

"I really hope you don't die this week. For some reason, I want to do this again or something like that."

"I... I don't want to die either."

I push away a tear that's forming, and sniff. Cassidy senses that I'm crying and reaches over to hug me. I let myself fall into her arms. I really don't want to die now.

We climb down the stairs after a solid thirty minutes or so up on the roof. I hunker into my wheelchair, and then exhale. As fun as it was, it was painful. For Cassidy, too.

We made our way back to the elevator, and back into our ward. Cassidy smiled as she wheeled me into my room, just across from hers.

"Goodnight, Cassidy." I call out to her.

"Goodnight, Blythe. If this is the last time I get to say that, which it might, you never know, I..." Cassidy trailed off, fiddling with her cane. I cocked my head, wanting her to finish.

"I... I know we haven't known each other for the longest time, but I felt something up there, and I don't know if you did too, but... and I know this is really stupid, because I've told myself for the longest time to not get attached to dying people, but here I am. I love you. There! I said it!"

I looked at Cassidy, allowing the single tear to fall down my face, which led to a quiet cascade. She hobbled over to me, and wiped away my tears. I looked at her and took her hand in mine.

"I told myself that, too." I whispered, her red hair glistening. I took a strand in my hands, wishing that this wasn't the last time I'd get to touch her hair.

"I love you too." I said, breaking the echoing silence in my little room. She smiled, a tear of her own falling, and then kissed my forehead. I felt my face heat up as she walked away.

"Goodnight, but not goodbye," I said to her as she turned at my door.

"Goodnight, but not goodbye," She said to me.

I closed my eyes, everything was slowing down.

This was only sleep.

The beep of the heart monitor beeped.

I placed my frail hand over my heart, and felt my heartbeat.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

My hand was over my heart when it stopped.

At least I said I love you back to her.