Thread: Her last and first breath

Rose Marie Tulio, was a sick little girl. She was always sick. In fact, she couldn't ever remember actually going to school. Her mother always had school homework though for her to do. So she did it. Always without question. She was very bright. Quick to catch on to things. All the doctors and nurses thought so. It was a shame to see someone so young with such a strange cancer. They didn't even have a name for it but were constantly poking and prodding Rose. The cancer would slowly flare up and make her really sick, then the doctors would come in and shoot whatever drug they had religiously into Rose's veins and it would appear to be in recession, only to come back immune to the drug before. This was Rose's life. By the time she had made it to 15, the doctors had given up. Rose barely weighed anything past 100 lbs and couldn't get up and move by herself. She was a skeleton wrapped in bones and skin. Her good nature was slowly sinking into that of depression. She was now on quarantine because the doctors and nurses just didn't know what they were dealing with. Was this cancer contagious? Could it become airborne? They didn't know nor did they care to find out. No one came to visit her anymore. She just sat on the bed waiting for the inevitable to happen. Most of her organs were eaten away by the cancer, and she was kept alive on so many dialysis and fake lungs trying to keep her alive, just because her mom was rich. It came as a suprise to her, however, the day that it was raining hard, she woke up and turned her eyes to a man who was sitting there holding her hand. He was a big muscular man. He seemed really upset that she was dying. She had no idea who he was, but the company felt nice. Squeezing his hand, they soon became best friends. Every day, for a while at least, he would come and visit her. Never telling her who he was really but, she didn't care. He was company and she was starved for touch that was kind and gentle and skin to skin. All she got since then was needles and IVs. One day, she had a coughing fit she couldn't handle. She tried to get him to get out, but he stayed and held her. She was dying, she knew it. She didn't want him to see. She continued blood rolling down her chin as the cancer took its victory lap through her system ending with the goal, her heart. She leaned against him and shut her eyes as the monitors noted her passing. Then light. Soaring, falling, gliding. She was like a small butterfly on the winds of a summer breeze. But then she was being pulled back. Something, or someone was pulling her back. No! She didn't want to go to the disease again. Trembling, she clawed for anything that would keep her out of that body, but no, it was destiny. She was in a body, not her own. It felt wierd. But she couldn't move anything. He body was like being in a shell, she couldn't reach past it, she was stuck. SHe couldn't open her eyes or work her mouth, but she heard them talking. Who they were? She didn't know. Physical? What the hell did he mean by physical. She couldn't do anything physical all her life. She was just a 100 lb. little cancer patient taking up a bed adn watching old reruns on whatever they were trying to dish out on PBS.