‹ Prequel: Loving The Jerk Who Might Have Feelings
Status: The last one of the Night Trilogy, I swear! :D
P.S I'm Dying,
Dying Sucks,
“Hun, it’s going to be alright” my mother says.
I glare at her knowing that she’s lying. I am not going to be okay. My name is Katharine Ozera Night and I’m dying from a rare genetic disorder called Alex’s Disease. Two weeks ago I was in my deathbed- err, I mean a hospital bed surrounded by a team of expert doctors and surgeons, my mom included. None of them could cure me then. None of them can save me now.
Alex’s Disease is the bitch of all diseases. It’s inevitable; if one of your parents had it, you’re going to have it. No 50%-70% chance: it is 100% certain. It’s incurable; my mom and a team of experts recently discovered a medicine that could delay it, but even last week when they tried to inject lethal doses in me it didn’t work anymore. Alex’s Disease always ended in a painful death.
My birth mother died when I was young (all I could remember was the screaming) and I had to live in an orphanage until I turned nine. Then a lady came to visit the hospital where the doctors did tests on me. Dr. Athena Night.
At that point I hadn’t shown any signs yet. My mom had died at 19 so they thought I had a couple of years left; apparently that should’ve cheered me up, but it didn’t. I was angry at my deceased mother for bringing me into this world just to die, I was angry at the uncaring doctors for not trying harder, I was angry at myself for existing. That’s when the lady adopted me. She was nice, pretty, and very smart. She homeschooled me, cared for me, and worked extremely hard to find the cure.
I was grateful for her. I lived in that peaceful time for another four years; then at thirteen the disease hit me.
I remember; it was a really hot day in Switzerland (as hot as it can get) and I was outside playing with some of the neighborhood kids. A big girl made me race her and I couldn’t say no because she’d call me mean things. I remember feeling weird; dizzy, nauseous, and my head hurt, but I just couldn’t let her win, so I raced.
The next thing I know I’m in the hospital with tubes coming out of everywhere. The process had started.
Once the disease hits you, you have less than a year to live. You’re muscles start to deteriorate, your bones become so fragile you can barely move without breaking them, and your pain receptors become increasingly sensitive; from 10x to 1000x at the end. I spent half the year home alone because I didn’t want to be at the hospital; then the other half I was in the hospital while they ran more tests and things.
The pain was… incredible. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m not a masochist, it’s just that to feel that amount of pain without blacking out… Well, it makes you wonder about life. Not that I was doing any thinking during that time; sometimes I’d cry and scream, other times I’d make them put me under with anesthesia because morphine didn’t work.
Looking back makes me shiver, but luckily my mom discovered ‘the cure’. She injected it in me just in time to pull me out of Death’s grasp. It’d been a good year after that; they did articles on my mom and me, and my mom even let me go to public school. It was a nightmare, but I’m glad I can say that I survived it. Then a week into summer vacation, it hit again.
So there I was in the hospital again. The process wasn’t starting again; it felt like it’s just picking up where it left off.
It was a month later that I remember asking for more anesthesia in my special asking way. “IT HURTS!!”
The pain was a throbbing sensation then, the other time it was never ending, but this time it came and went. Quickly enough for it to still make you want to die, but slowly enough that you have time to think, which wasn’t what I wanted. I just wanted it to stop.
“K-Kat” I remember my mom stuttering, but before she could continue, a sob escaped her mouth and she ran out of the room. She was trying so hard not to cry to show me that there was still hope. If I hadn’t been in so much pain I would’ve rolled my eyes.
Thankfully, though, they gave me another dose of anesthesia, then...
The next time I awoke it was dark. I remember being surprised that there were no doctors or nurses, just my mom sleeping in the corner. Five seconds passed before I realized that I was supposed to be in pain.
One week later and I’m declared ‘cured’ supposedly, according to my mother, but I’m not buying it. You can’t be an inch from death twice and believe you were going to be okay. It’s just not possible.
My mom told me that they had come up with a new medicine that had completely cured my disease. It was gone, she said, almost like magic. That’s when I got suspicious. Like ‘magic’?
Oh hell no, my mom was a biologist. She didn’t believe in magic! Everything had a rational explanation and if I said something I better know how to prove its true; that’s how I was raised.
But I let it go to make her happy, and I spent my days in my room listening to music and reading books. The next thing I know she calls me down to have a talk and breaks the news to me.
“What do you mean we’re going to America?!”
“It’s going to be alright, sweetheart” she repeats. I shake my head and hold my hands over my ears like it can make her words less real.
“But, why?” I whine.
She brushes the hair from her eyes. There are new bags underneath her eyes. Something’s wrong.
“Well, I just think it’ll be a good experience for you. You’re nearly sixteen and you’ve barely been anywhere outside the house and the hospital. Trust me you’ll thank me later”
My mind whirled as it went through all the different possibilities. They hadn’t discovered a new medicine and I was about to die so my mom wanted me to spend my last few days touring a foreign place. They did discover the medicine, but it was an illegal drug and we had to move to Mexico so they could give me it there. Or maybe the disease had gone by itself and my mom wanted to see if there were more competent people in America that could help me before it came back. It’s gone... She said. Almost like magic... I shake my head again, “Okay, so what state in particular?” I ask.
“California”
I blink at her. Pretty tan blonde people lived in California. I was tall and pale, but not skinny enough that I could pass for a model. I did have beautiful black-blue hair and electric ice-blue eyes, but that came with the disease.
“But we’ll only be there for a bit, I think we’re going somewhere else”
“What do you mean ‘you think’?” I ask incredulously.
“I- well- I” She looks flustered. “Well I haven’t decided yet. Go pack your bags, our flight is scheduled for the fourth of July, first thing tomorrow morning”
I blink at her. She’s gone bloody mental. We’re still June.
I glare at her knowing that she’s lying. I am not going to be okay. My name is Katharine Ozera Night and I’m dying from a rare genetic disorder called Alex’s Disease. Two weeks ago I was in my deathbed- err, I mean a hospital bed surrounded by a team of expert doctors and surgeons, my mom included. None of them could cure me then. None of them can save me now.
Alex’s Disease is the bitch of all diseases. It’s inevitable; if one of your parents had it, you’re going to have it. No 50%-70% chance: it is 100% certain. It’s incurable; my mom and a team of experts recently discovered a medicine that could delay it, but even last week when they tried to inject lethal doses in me it didn’t work anymore. Alex’s Disease always ended in a painful death.
My birth mother died when I was young (all I could remember was the screaming) and I had to live in an orphanage until I turned nine. Then a lady came to visit the hospital where the doctors did tests on me. Dr. Athena Night.
At that point I hadn’t shown any signs yet. My mom had died at 19 so they thought I had a couple of years left; apparently that should’ve cheered me up, but it didn’t. I was angry at my deceased mother for bringing me into this world just to die, I was angry at the uncaring doctors for not trying harder, I was angry at myself for existing. That’s when the lady adopted me. She was nice, pretty, and very smart. She homeschooled me, cared for me, and worked extremely hard to find the cure.
I was grateful for her. I lived in that peaceful time for another four years; then at thirteen the disease hit me.
I remember; it was a really hot day in Switzerland (as hot as it can get) and I was outside playing with some of the neighborhood kids. A big girl made me race her and I couldn’t say no because she’d call me mean things. I remember feeling weird; dizzy, nauseous, and my head hurt, but I just couldn’t let her win, so I raced.
The next thing I know I’m in the hospital with tubes coming out of everywhere. The process had started.
Once the disease hits you, you have less than a year to live. You’re muscles start to deteriorate, your bones become so fragile you can barely move without breaking them, and your pain receptors become increasingly sensitive; from 10x to 1000x at the end. I spent half the year home alone because I didn’t want to be at the hospital; then the other half I was in the hospital while they ran more tests and things.
The pain was… incredible. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m not a masochist, it’s just that to feel that amount of pain without blacking out… Well, it makes you wonder about life. Not that I was doing any thinking during that time; sometimes I’d cry and scream, other times I’d make them put me under with anesthesia because morphine didn’t work.
Looking back makes me shiver, but luckily my mom discovered ‘the cure’. She injected it in me just in time to pull me out of Death’s grasp. It’d been a good year after that; they did articles on my mom and me, and my mom even let me go to public school. It was a nightmare, but I’m glad I can say that I survived it. Then a week into summer vacation, it hit again.
So there I was in the hospital again. The process wasn’t starting again; it felt like it’s just picking up where it left off.
It was a month later that I remember asking for more anesthesia in my special asking way. “IT HURTS!!”
The pain was a throbbing sensation then, the other time it was never ending, but this time it came and went. Quickly enough for it to still make you want to die, but slowly enough that you have time to think, which wasn’t what I wanted. I just wanted it to stop.
“K-Kat” I remember my mom stuttering, but before she could continue, a sob escaped her mouth and she ran out of the room. She was trying so hard not to cry to show me that there was still hope. If I hadn’t been in so much pain I would’ve rolled my eyes.
Thankfully, though, they gave me another dose of anesthesia, then...
The next time I awoke it was dark. I remember being surprised that there were no doctors or nurses, just my mom sleeping in the corner. Five seconds passed before I realized that I was supposed to be in pain.
One week later and I’m declared ‘cured’ supposedly, according to my mother, but I’m not buying it. You can’t be an inch from death twice and believe you were going to be okay. It’s just not possible.
My mom told me that they had come up with a new medicine that had completely cured my disease. It was gone, she said, almost like magic. That’s when I got suspicious. Like ‘magic’?
Oh hell no, my mom was a biologist. She didn’t believe in magic! Everything had a rational explanation and if I said something I better know how to prove its true; that’s how I was raised.
But I let it go to make her happy, and I spent my days in my room listening to music and reading books. The next thing I know she calls me down to have a talk and breaks the news to me.
“What do you mean we’re going to America?!”
“It’s going to be alright, sweetheart” she repeats. I shake my head and hold my hands over my ears like it can make her words less real.
“But, why?” I whine.
She brushes the hair from her eyes. There are new bags underneath her eyes. Something’s wrong.
“Well, I just think it’ll be a good experience for you. You’re nearly sixteen and you’ve barely been anywhere outside the house and the hospital. Trust me you’ll thank me later”
My mind whirled as it went through all the different possibilities. They hadn’t discovered a new medicine and I was about to die so my mom wanted me to spend my last few days touring a foreign place. They did discover the medicine, but it was an illegal drug and we had to move to Mexico so they could give me it there. Or maybe the disease had gone by itself and my mom wanted to see if there were more competent people in America that could help me before it came back. It’s gone... She said. Almost like magic... I shake my head again, “Okay, so what state in particular?” I ask.
“California”
I blink at her. Pretty tan blonde people lived in California. I was tall and pale, but not skinny enough that I could pass for a model. I did have beautiful black-blue hair and electric ice-blue eyes, but that came with the disease.
“But we’ll only be there for a bit, I think we’re going somewhere else”
“What do you mean ‘you think’?” I ask incredulously.
“I- well- I” She looks flustered. “Well I haven’t decided yet. Go pack your bags, our flight is scheduled for the fourth of July, first thing tomorrow morning”
I blink at her. She’s gone bloody mental. We’re still June.
♠ ♠ ♠
Okay, guys bare with me. I suck at explaining things, and you very well know this. I'm only good at dialogue. Maybe. well isn't it the same thing?? Ugh, i dunno, i hate information. So basically Kat was dying from a rare genetic disease, and all of a sudden she's not, but she's suspicious and her mom's acting wierd. Get the gist? Yeah, next chapter will be WAY more exciting.