One Last Breath

Skylar

My blue eyes were staring down at my legs with a glare, trying to burn holes through them. Pain, that was all I was looking for. Something to get away from this numbness, anything. I was just sick and tired of the tingling of the pins and needles that were running through them.

But I guess this was better than the feeling of absolute nothing. Falling to the hard tiled floor and not feeling a damn thing had scared me. I had tried not to show it, but I think that Noah had noticed, he had to have. He knew everything about me, knew the way that I operated, knew every emotion I had. It was impossible for him not to see the fear in my eyes.

But I wasn't scared anymore, or, not as scared as I had been, because now I could feel my legs. It was like they had just fallen asleep. Only, that was the child's way of looking at it. I knew how serious this was, and I knew exactly what it meant. My legs were showing signs of failure.

The dystrophy was getting farther along.

I looked up when the door opened and was met with the watery eyes of my mother and the steeled face of my father. Behind the two I saw Noah, but he was giving me the time to talk to my parents.

"Oh, my baby!"

I rolled my eyes while giving my mother a smile. "Mom, calm down," I sighed, hugging her back as she crushed me in her arms. I always wondered how she got all that strength when she was so small and boney.

"We're just worried about you baby girl. We rushed over here as soon as we could when we heard what happened. How are your legs?"

I glanced back down at them again, biting my lip to keep the dirty look off of my face. I could feel them now, but just barely. Not enough to be considered normal. And I wouldn't be surprised if I couldn't walk.

"They feel like legs, I'm fine now," I lied.

I saw relief flood through their faces, and I knew that lying had been the best decision. They were always so worried about me, about my health; I didn't need them stressing any more than they already did. I just wish they would relax and not think about me and my condition.

"'Lar!" I heard the young voice of my step-sister, Angelina, squeal. I gave her a big smile as she came into the room and scooped her up.

She continued to ramble to me, not letting me get in a word in as she told me about her day. Everyone was smiling and watching the two of us, and for a moment, it felt like I wasn't even in the hospital. It felt like we were just a normal family.

"Ms. White, Mr. Arkin, do you think I could talk to you for a minute?" Noah's voice said, though it was low and not supposed to be heard by anyone but my parents. They nodded their heads and followed him out the door.

Heather stood there kind of awkwardly after they left, not really knowing what else to say. We had never been close, because she had come into the picture during my teen years when I was already sick. We never had time to bond because I had always been in and out of the doctor's office. I think we both preferred it that way.

"Mommy, I'm hungry," Angelina whined, jumping off the bed and running to her mother.

"We'll go to the cafeteria and get some food then," she replied, sounding relieved, "Do you want to come Anthony?"

I turned to look at the child who was leaning against the wall, looking like he was miserable. "No, I'll just stay here."

"Okay honey, we'll be right back."

She didn't spare a glance at me before she quickly left, her youngest child in her arms. As soon as the door closed, it just left me and the melancholy teenager. I let myself look at him and wondered what could have possibly happened to him since the last time he had visited.

"What's with the long face?" I questioned, situating myself so that I could sit up straighter.

"None of your business," he hissed, not even looking up.

I rolled my eyes at his drama queen attitude. "Someone's on their period and it is certainly not me."

"Will you just shut the hell up, seriously?"

I glared at Anthony, not at all expecting or liking the way he was acting towards me. Sure, we had this fucked up relationship where we liked to torture one another, but we just seemed like normal siblings. With that one sentence, it sounded as if he hated me right then and there.

"I was just asking what your fucking problem was, I didn't ask for your god damn bitchy response. Excuse me for caring about you."

"You don't give a shit," he said, finally looking at me with eyes sharp enough to cut. The look hurt, but just like the sadness I usually had in my body, I didn't show that. Instead, I glared at him hard enough to make him look away first.

"And what the hell do you mean by that?"

"You don't give a damn about me Skylar, you never did."

I scoffed at him, making him look back at me with another glance good enough to kill. "And what gave you that idea? You're my brother Anthony; of course I care about you."

"If you cared, you wouldn't be dying on me!" he almost shouted at me, pounding his fist against the wall, making me jump.

I was about to say something to him, but he interrupted me. "If you really loved me like a sister should, you would fight this and overcome it until the doctors found a cure. You wouldn't be slowly dying in front of my eyes!"

"Anthony…"

"I don't want to hear it Skylar. I fucking hate you."

He looked away then, his head pointed in the opposite direction and his hair hiding his eyes. I was shocked at his statement and hurt beyond compare, but I know that he was hurting more than I was.

I had been with him since he was ten years old; I had watched him grow up. I was the one that he always came to when he had his problems. He came to my bed when he had a nightmare and I was staying at my father's house. And until he had gotten into high school, we had been best friends. Then we drifted apart, with me being stuck here while he was at home alone. We had maintained the relationship anyway we could, and our fucked up siblinghood was the result. But it was like this incident was the breaking point; the time in his life when he finally realized that in a year or so, his sister was going to be deader than a doornail.

I threw the thin hospital blanket off of my legs and threw them off the bed, not making much noise what so ever. The commotions outside were louder than me. I didn't know if I could, but I attempted to stand on my own. With the support of the bed beneath my hands, I was successful, and walking was the next step.

But the bed only went so far, and the foot board creaked when I gripped onto it. That caught my step-brother's attention, and his eyes were wide when he saw me out of bed.

"Skylar-"

"There's no cure for this Anthony. There probably won't be for many generations. I'm fighting as hard as I can, but this isn't cancer. There's no possible way that I can make it through this alive."

I went to walk by myself, hoping that I was strong enough, but was not. My knees gave and I went to the floor. But Anthony was there with me, falling to the floor with me in his arms, cushioning the fall. I sat there, in between his legs, and looked into his eyes, which were tearing up.

"But I am fighting. I'm not in bed, waiting until the muscles just give. I'm getting them stronger so I can survive longer, so I can see you and Dad longer. I'm not there to tuck you into bed anymore, and I no longer will be, but I once was. You're still my best friend, and I will love you forever, not just until the day I die."

Anthony held me tighter in his arms, hugging me tightly and nuzzling his face into my neck. I wasn't surprised by the wetness that I felt there, and I wasn't going to make fun of him for it. I wrapped one arm around him while the other went to stroke his hair. I whispered calmly into his ear and didn't let go of him.

"I love you too Skylar."

//////

Noah

I made sure that we were a little ways away from Skylar's room, that way no one could over hear the discussion I was about to have with my patients parents. They looked up at me, their eyes blank, waiting for what I was about to say.

"As you know," I started, "this is more than likely an early sign that Skylar's dystrophy is speeding up rather than slowing down. With the muscles deteriorating, it's harder for the brain to send its signals to the legs, so she's going to be having troubles walking soon. And her arms have already been thrown into the process as well."

"It's gotten to her arms already? Oh god," Ms. White sniffled, wiping at her eyes.

"Unfortunately, yes. If it continues on like this, it's going to hit her lungs in a matter of months. You don't need to know what happens after that."

"What do you suggest Doctor?" Mr. Arkin questioned, pulling his ex-wife into an embrace so that she could quietly cry on his shoulder.

"I recommend that she be taken back home, or maybe to a mutual place of meeting, that way she can spend as much time with you as possible."

"What about her livings here? Doesn't she have to go through therapy and take tests?"

I nodded my head. "She does, but for the therapy, I can drive out and do that. The only thing at this point that she spend the rest of her time comfortable and with the people that she loves."

"I-I think we can manage that. Will you give us a week to set up everything before we can get her out of here?"

I nodded my head, looking at the two parents sympathetically. "Of course, take all the time that you need."