Status: In progress, loves.

Don't Waste Your Time on Me.

Just crash, fall down - I'll wrap my arms around you now.


To say it has been a shitty day would be an understatement. I was absolutely exhausted from all those hours of sleep I've been lacking recently, caused by me trying to cover as many shifts as possible in order to avoid having to return to the dull and sad place I called home. With each passing day it became harder to live alone in an too big apartment and I welcomed every chance I got not to go back and wail over me being alone and basically social-lifeless.

As if me being antisocial and sleep-deprived wasn't enough already, I absolutely had to start my day by being told that one of the patients I've grown attached to has passed away that morning. The little six-year-old girl was called Jennifer and she was one of the sweetest children I've ever seen. She would always be happy to see me, making grabby hands at me and whining until I hugged her. She had suffered from cancer since the tender age of four. She's been my patient for about seven months, being at the hospice on and off until she moved in completely two days ago.

See, you have to know that the things at a children's hospice work a bit different than at a normal one. Adults go to a normal hospice a few days before they pass away while the children here would come and spend a few days here every month from the day the doctors told them there wasn't anything they could do to help them. Their parents usually told them that they'd come here to get to know the environment they would take their last breaths in but it was way more than that. Living in a child hospice means talking to therapists and carers about dying, about their fears and their expectations. It meant facing their destiny but also learning to not fear it. Once the doctors were sure they wouldn't last longer than a few days, the children would move in completely and then it would be our duty to make their time as enjoyable and painless as possible. Between their first visit and them moving in could pass months, sometimes even years which made it even harder for not only me as a carer but also them as a patient. I could only imagine how nerve-racking this whole procedure must be, what with knowing you'll eventually die but still having to wait.

I was deep in thought as I exited the Jennifer's room, accidentally bumping into Judy, our secretary.

"I'm sorry." I mumbled, eyes glued to my shoes.

"It's okay, Jack, don't worry." she assured me, adding a "What are you doing here, anyways? Isn't today supposed to be your day off?" the blonde questioned, eyebrow raised but a worried expression still evident on her fragile-looking features.

I lifted my head to meet the curious look in her piericing blue eyes before clearing my throat and explaining that "Dan asked me if I could cover for him today, because his girlfriend is getting his very first ultrasound today and he didn't want to miss that."

This seemed to be convincing enough for her, because she gave me a small smile and a hum in approval before waking away, leaving me clueless as to whom exactly I had to take care of for this day.

"Hey, Jude!" I called after her "Wait up!" I said as I fell into a slight jog, trying to catch up with her.

She immediately stopped waking, instead turning around and waiting for me to reach her before giving me yet another look and a "Yes, Jack?" her tone sounding somewhat expecting.

"I was thinking that maybe you could tell me the room numbers of Dan's patients? And then well.. maybe you could manage to give me one of the new patients, because I really don't want to go home tonight." I told her, silently praying that she wouldn't ask any questions.

"Ummm.. yeah, sure. Let me just check on that real quick." the tiny blonde said before going through the countless stacks of papers she seemed to always carry around with her. "Okay, here. Room number 186, 212, 155 and 223 are Dan's patients and there's this new kid who is scheduled to check in in about two hours. Jason was supposed to be his carer, but I'm sure he won't mind. The room numbers 217. And Jack, try to get some sleep."

I quickly hugged and thanked her before making my way down to the first floor where I entered the room of a brown-haired boy who eyed me with his big green orbs, simply stating "You're not Dan." and pouting furiously. You could tell by the way his voice was still a little too high-pitched that he couldn't be older than eight, maybe nine.

"Yeah I know, buddy. I'm sorry, but Dan isn't here today." I told him while putting down the tray with food I've been carrying. "My name's Jack though and I'm sure we'll have as much fun as you and Dan use to have, okay?"

He only nodded, picking up his juice box and taking a sip "I'm Nathan. I'm eight and I was born with an incurable heart disease." Nathan told me matter of factly. "Mommy said I would see Daddy in heaven soon." he said, smiling slightly.

Oh crap I thought That poor boy doesn't even comprehend what he's smiling about. I feel so bad for that poor woman, losing her husband and then her son must be hard for her. I forced a smile, waiting for little Nathan to finish his lunch.

We sat there for about half an hour, Nathan telling me about what his room at home looked like and how much he loved his toys and his dog Pebbles. I learned that his father had died in a car crash when he was six. "But that's okay" Nathan said "because Daddy and I will be together in heaven."

I stared at him, not knowing what to say. I wasn't going to destroy his illusions, no. That would've been cruel and the universe had already been cruel enough to this innocent boy. I left the room to go check on the other kids, but not without promising that yes, Dan would come back tomorrow and that of course I would visit him soon.

After I finished talking to everyone of Dan's patients and visited a few of mine, I still had twenty minutes left until my new patient was coming, so I decided that taking a nap wouldn't hurt anyone and with that I headed towards the staff room where all the beds and scrubs were practically screaming to be used. I entered the room silently, not wanting to disturb anyone who was possibly sleeping, but only finding that I was in fact the only one in there. I made myself comfortable in one of the five beds and drifted off to a peaceful slumber almost instantly.

When I opened my eyes again I was quick to glanced at the clock, seeing that the new kid was supposed to arrive ten minutes ago. Good, that meant he was probably already in his room, waiting for someone who'd come by and tell him what'd happen the next few days.

I entered room 217 with a smile on my face and a happy tone, knowing from experience that seven-year-olds would shoot you a heartwarming smile the more enthusiastic you sounded. "Hey, I'm Jack and-" I cut myself off as I realized that the boy sitting in front of me was a. not seven years old and b. silently sobbing. I caught myself fairly quick finishing my sentence with an "and you're in need of a hug." before rushing over to sit next to the teenager, pulling him into my arms without him protesting. He didn't say anything, just buried his face into my chest, shaking uncontrollably as sob after sob made its way through his body. I rubbed small soothing circles on the small of his back, waiting for him to calm down. I knew that there was no use to try and find out what had upset this boy so much, seeing as it would only end with him snapping at me as soon as I'd say the words "what's wrong?" because let's face it: being send to a hospice was like an unofficial death sentence which meant that hello, everything was wrong.

After about ten minutes of crying the boy in my arms was more or less calm, taking deep breaths and cuddling against me. It wasn't unusual that those kids would get physically close to me what with searching for any type of comfort and all and to be honest, I didn't mind at all. I soon noticed that the boy who looked to be about seventeen years old had fallen asleep in my arms, so I settled him down on the mattress, pulling the duvet over his tiny frame and switching the lights off, silently leaving the room.