Page 101 of Misery and Ecstasy

Not only because the tumor pressing on the left side of my brain has made walking difficult, but also because I’m absolutely terrified of what’s about to happen in the next five hours.

Five days.

Five months.

I’m terrified of what my future holds.

I’m petrified of leaving Draven, not having nearly enough time with him.

My mother wanted to come with us, but I told her no. Not for the first time. Iamactually glad she and Alexander are here. I was shocked and ready to be furious at Draven and Olivia at first, but the moment Mom wrapped me in her arms, I could feel a strength emanating from her that I haven’t felt in a very long time.

It’s as though she finally realizes that I need her to be the solid, composed one, so that I can fall apart for a change.

It feels like she’s trying to get along with Draven, too. I don’t think it’s him, personally, that she doesn’t like. It’s more that she doesn’t want me giving my time to anyone but her. I think she’s finally coming around, though, knowing how little time we have left to spend together.

“I wish you would have let me drop you off at the front. Save you the extra energy.“ Draven gently squeezes my hand as we walk toward the waiting area.

“It’s not like you parked far away. What? Twenty feet? Besides, the exercise is good for me, I’m sure. I want to be able to do it while I still can.” I banter with him, but it lacks my usual amount of attitude and fire. At this point, it's just a desperate attempt at distraction.

With a deep breath, Draven walks me to a seat then all but forces me into it before checking in at the front desk. The receptionist asks him for my identification and insurance card, which he pulls out of his own wallet.

He commandeered mine at the same time as he did my cell phone in an attempt not to overwhelm me. He and Olivia concocted a lot of plans without me. I don’t know if I like the idea of the two of them being in cahoots.

“Go ahead and get started on these, and we’ll get her back for bloodwork as soon as possible.” The receptionist gives him a clipboard with a bunch of papers on it. “After the blood draw, she’ll come back out here before her treatment begins.”

He looks at the paperwork as he rolls his eyes. I think his least favorite phrase in the whole wide world—at least when it’s directed toward me and my health—isas soon as possible.

He hands me the clipboard then takes his seat next to me, throwing his arm over the back of my chair. He’s silent while I fill out the forms. About halfway through, he pulls out his cell phone, and I see an unknown number on the screen. I think he’s going to ignore it, but to my surprise, he stands.

“Hey. I’ll be right back, okay?” Not waiting for a response, Draven softly kisses me on my cheek before holding the phone to his ear and walking down the hallway toward the building’s exit.

When I get to the pages that highlight the procedure as well as the risks of chemo and radiation treatment, I freeze. The side effects shouldn’t scare me as much as the reason I’m here in the first place does.

But for some reason, I can’t move past them.

A wave of terror passes through me, and I begin to cry. I look down the hallway in the direction of Draven, but I don’t see him standing outside. Panic-stricken, I try to focus on something to center myself.

Breathe through it, McK.

But I can’t. I’d thought I’d come to terms with my now very questionable future. Each day is different from the last. My feelings are all over the place. My hope ebbs and flows opposite of my fear.

“What’s wrong?” My head snaps to my left, to a little boy with brown hair and an infectious smile.

Has he been there this whole time? Why didn’t I notice him before? Where are his parents?

“Nothing.” Shaking my head, I try to snap out of it. “I’m just scared.”

I didn’t mean to say that, but I couldn’t stop myself.

“I don’t know what to expect,” I continue, apparently still unable to shut up. “This is my first treatment.”

Why the fuck am I baring my soul to a child?

“It’s not too bad after a while.” The boy shrugs. “You get used to it.”

“You’re a patient here?” Sniffling, I swallow thickly, trying to control my nerves and stop crying.

“Yeah. I’ve been here a few times. It can be kind of fun sometimes. I get to play video games for hours without my mom telling me they’re going to rot my brain.”

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