Brisé
“Seven long days since she left that room and I watched her walk away. Why didn’t I stop her? “The End,” she said, and I died inside. I told myself that she couldn’t have meant that. The first day, I wasn’t too worried. Sure, I hated that she was upset, scared shitless of the battle she had on her hands, and hated fucking cancer in general. How can a six-letter word create such devastation? By day two when I still hadn’t heard from her, all my calls, voicemails, and texts went unanswered because she had shut off her cell service. She still hadn’t come home, and I began to panic. I checked all the banking accounts. I didn’t have access to her personal account, but I knew she only had about two hundred dollars in there, and I wasn’t due to transfer her monthly stipend for another few weeks. That amount of money wasn’t going to last long, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to pay for any treatments she needed, and she needed to start them, and fast. I called Myra; he ignored my calls.
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