Shaken by this new revelation, I rolled over towards my window and winced from the light of the midday sun shining directly into my eyes. My parents had let me skip school.
“I might as well get used to this…”
I immediately grabbed my bottle of meds as my agony began to flare from being conscious, downing two pills without anything to drink. It took time to get dressed, as I quickly found that my muscles were stiff from the waves of throbbing pain. Aching all over, I walked downstairs and saw my dad in the living room, reading the newspaper. He was there to make sure I got through the day without hurting myself. Trying to stay unnoticed, I snuck into the kitchen. The last thing I wanted was for him to want some long conversation about how I could talk to him at any time and all that other stuff. I took my antidepressants and convulsion meds, and made myself a bowl of cereal. Just as I was crossing the kitchen with the bowl, a bolt of electricity shot up my spine, making me feel like I was being flogged with red-hot chains. I dropped the bowl with a loud smash and collapsed to the floor, gripping my skull and roaring in anguish. This was even worse than my first seizure, a level of pain reserved for the damned souls of Hell. My dad bolted out of his chair and rushed over to me. Within thirty seconds, it was over. I could feel the pain ebbing away, until it was at its normal levels.
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m ok.”
“We’re taking you to the hospital.”
“No,” I declared. My dad looked at me as I picked up the broken shards of the bowl and stood up. “I’m going to be having these seizures for the rest of my life. I can’t go to the hospital after every one. I’ll get used to them eventually.”
I suffered two more seizures that day, both of them causing me to fall to the floor in agony. My mom got home with my older sister and younger brother. They all paused when they saw me in the TV room. I was watching a horror movie and the room was dark. There were bags under my eyes from the strain of my seizures and my hands were trembling more than usual. I looked at my mom and gently shook my head. She got the message and slowly pulled my siblings away.
The dinner had an awkward silence as everyone tried not to stare at me.
“Emily, you wouldn’t happen to know what my homework is, would you? Did you talk to my teachers?” I asked my sister.
“No.”
“I need to head back to school tomorrow, I can’t afford to lose two days as a senior.”
“No, absolutely not,” my mom argued.
“I need to go back to school sometime, and this pain and these seizures aren’t going to go away. I have cancer, not some goddamn cold that will go away after a day of rest.”
Everyone tensed as I mentioned the cancer.
“There is no reason for me to stay home.”
The sky was a dark gray and sleeting as my dad drove us to school. Other students were swarming in to get out of the rain and snow as the doors were finally unlocked. First period was about to start and I hadn’t wanted to wait for it with all of the other kids. The last thing I needed was an awkward twenty minutes outside the school with everyone staring at me.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” my dad asked for the hundredth time.
“Like I said, there is no reason for me to stay home.”
I stepped out of the car and into the falling snow and rain, pulling up the hood of my sweatshirt. It was going to be a harsh winter. Fall hadn’t even ended and the ground was covered by a foot of snow and ice. I didn’t notice the cold as I walked towards the school. I was the last person inside and I quickly headed towards my first class. I was hoping to stay unnoticed, putting off the inevitable awkwardness. I stepped into the small classroom, trying to hide behind the crowds of kids getting into their seats. I sat in the back of the class where no one would see me. If I had been noticed, no one was mentioning it. The teacher began calling attendance. I became more and more tense as he approached my name.
“Marcus Clive?” he asked, doubtingly.
“Here.”
As one wave, everyone turned to me.
“Ah, I had heard that you had suffered a seizure on Monday, are you alright now?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I found out that I have a new form of cancer, but I’m fine.”
Everyone gasped and began muttering amongst each other. The teacher was silent for almost a minute.
“Please, continue,” I said dryly as I took a pill.
I walked down the crowded halls with everyone staring at me. Every few seconds, someone would ask me a question about the disease in my brain or tell me all that lame bullshit about how I could talk to them at any time. I reached for my pills the second enough time had passed since my last one. Just as I put my hand on the cap, the sensation of being stabbed in the back of the skull with a nail bat ran through my body, sending me tumbling down to the floor and roaring in pain. People around me freaked out as I writhed on the floor, gripping my skull as the tumors on my brainstem all sent a particularly strong tremor through my nerves. Within several seconds, it was over. I lied on the floor in a cold sweat, slowly trying to get up.
I raised my head and coughed up a mouthful of blood onto the floor. The stress of my constant pain, coupled with my seizures had ruptured an artery or vein somewhere. People tried to help me up but I waved them away. I took two pills and ignored the voices of everyone as I walked away with a limp.
It was lunch and I was sitting where I always sat. Against the wall of the cafeteria was a set of folded bleachers where students could sit during lunch if they didn’t want to be at a table. As always, I was by myself, but that was because I was compelled to be. I sighed as another girl came up to me and said that if I ever wanted to talk, I could talk to her.
‘You’re only saying that because of my cancer. If I didn’t have a brain full of tumors, nothing would change between us. I barely even know who you are.’ I fought the temptation to say it, but my anger was making difficult. “Thanks,” I said instead, but with a tone as dry as the brick wall behind me.
She walked away and I looked out over the cafeteria for the hundredth time, trying to avoid the gaze of the people looking at me and loathing what everyone was. Humanity was as much of a cancer as the tumors in my brain, and I hated my species with every fiber in my being. I hated the weakness, the greed, the stupidity, the shortsightedness, and every other thing that made us the overgrown cockroaches that we were. I had to hate them, for my own good. Even before my cancer, my life had been agony. My mind was ravaged by its own cold existence, all this time cheated out of chemicals like serotonin. For most of my life I haven’t known what peace, happiness, or sanity meant. I’m trapped in a realm of existence that I cannot escape from, and no matter how well I live, be it a billionaire or a homeless vagrant, my misery and anger will be never leave me. That sadness had in time been twisted into hatred, the feeling of not belonging to any part of the world decaying into loathing for that world. Hatred is my only means of survival, the only alternative to wallowing in despair. It hurts less to hate the world around me than to want to be a part of it. It hurts less to hate others than to be starving for a connection.