"I'm dying", I say barely above a whisper.
Her voice hitches and I close my eyes.
I can't bear to see her response,
I know she'll probably tell me to keep fighting.
To keep trying...
But I can't.
It's been nearly two years since I found out.
Two years fighting for survival.
Two years realising I was my own rival.
"Don't say that", her voice breaks.
Her forehead rests against mine, as her hand roams the scars on my arms.
"I can't", my heart aches.
I tense my jaw, hoping to constrict myself from crying.
I swallow the sounds of my cracking heart and pull away.
I finally open my eyes and look anywhere but at her.
I see the birds flying and I hear them chirping,
The sun shinning so bright it contains a bright aura of happiness.
The ***** green grass dancing and moving with the beat of the wind.
Leaves shattering and making a harmonious sound.
I laugh to myself, considering how contradicting the mood between her and I is to nature.
Her voice betrays her as it exposes her vulnerability.
Her whole demeanour dies,
Her knees buckling, holding on trying not to fall while her tears escape her effortlessly.
I shut my eyes,
Bite my lip,
Ball my hands to a fist,
Trying to hold in the pain,
Trying to hide the disease spreading within me.
"Okay, I'll fight it and I won't die", I look straight into her eyes.
"Promise?" She asks.
"Yea", I give her a faint smile.