Cancer

"Miracle," Nurse Lou sings as she walks into my room. I know, my name is so ironic, isn't it? I'm desperately looking for a Miracle to allow me to live, and my name is Miracle. Nobody's ever pointed out that before, so you're so original!

"What." I answer dryly. She snorts and adjusts my meds, then glances over at my untouched tray of food. She sighs and looks at me with a pout. I roll my eyes, puh-lease, I do not fall for pity acts. I am one, after all.

"You need to eat. Stay healthy." She complains. She's youngish. Probably about thirty-two now, with blond hair and big brown eyes. She's single and always points out the hot doctors and nurses.

"Ha." I scoff. "I'm gonna die anyways, what's the point. And I have cancer, I'm so fucking unhealthy it isn't real." I snarkily reply. She shakes her head, she hates when I talk about how nothing matters because I'm gonna die anyways.

76% of what I say is that. The rest is sarcasm and insults. I'm such a bitch, I crack myself up.

"Whatever, Tuck's here. He wants to walk." She struts out of the room, her heels click-clacking on the floor. I hear a deep, gravelly laugh and a high pitched giggle, and then my brother stalks into the room.

He's big, about 6'3" with cropped brown hair and big blue eyes. He's really muscly and intimidating. Really, he's just a big, cuddly teddy-bear. Speaking of which, he hands me a little fuzzy teddy bear. It's brown with a purple belly and a little smile. I grin.

"Ready for your walk?" He asks and my grin turns upside-down. As I said, I was very anti-social and kids were afraid of me. Therefor, walks weren't my favorite things to do. I don't even walk. I can, but it's hard for me, and Tuck likes when he gets to push me around in it.

He scoops me up into his arms and expertly hooks me up to the right, moveable meds, placing me gently in my wheelchair. We head out, me, Tuck and my arsenal of medications dragging behind.

Tuck waves high to everyone, cheery and happy, gives grins, hugs, kisses and laughs to all. I sit in my chair, arms crossed, scowling. We pass the bully of the hospital, Terry Lawrence. She smiles sweetly at him, but I could feel her staring daggers into my back as we wheeled by.

Yes, even hospitals have bullies.

Oh and the stories I have to tell about her. But those can wait. This is important.

Suddenly, we hear a commotion from down the stark white hallways, and a nurse pushes past us to get down there. Tuck runs, full speed and somehow gets us way up to the front of the growing group. There's a boy, lying on a cot. His skin decorated in bruises and cuts, blood blooming up everywhere.

He's unconscious.

There are two boys with him, one with glasses, gripping the cot, biting his lip, and another short one, who is crying hysterically. The doctor's have to hold the two boys back as they wheel the cot into the emergency wing. The crying boy falls to his knees.

I wheel myself over there and pat his back. He launches himself into my arms, pulling out a few meds, to which the doctor's go into a tizzy and my brother nearly has a heart attack. I pat the boy's back, he smells of cologne and... paint? I stroke his hair.

"It's okay. It'll be okay." I mutter into his ear.

This is when my life changed for good.

Notes

What happened?