Fine

No! No! No, it can't be!

History is repeating itself again. I know you're probably wondering what's wrong, well, you can't run from fate.

Tears pools at the corner of my eyes as I re-read the piece of paper for the umpteenth time. Why? Why me?

First the mother, now the daughter.

An hour ago, I had gone to pick up the result of the test I did a couple of weeks ago, and let me tell you- the content of the result is not pretty at all.

The result reveals I got tumor in my brain, it's so unfortunate- the goddamn thing that killed my mom, I guess it's hereditary.

Brain tumor.

The result has me thinking- maybe I am all the things I've been called, from a stick to a virus. Cancer, the word tastes bitter on my tongue, no one deserves it, no one.

The deed has been done, according to the doctor- I'm at stage two, and I need to have surgery done, hopefully it works out.

And just like that, all the dreams I had as a little girl flys out of the window- what's the purpose of a dream without a soul?

I'll tell you, no damn point.

Walking into the school, as usual, I feel stares and mumblings.

"Why was she not in school all morning?"

"What else? Whoring around." The red haired laughs.

I pause by a tree and remove my backpack. I open it, rummaging through it for my scribbling book. My eyes nearly bulge out when I see what is written down.

Ap Calculus.

My worst subject and the less favourable teacher.

The class started quarter of an hour ago, I hastily run off to the class. Another thing is, the teacher despises tardiness.

"Hello," I say, as I enter the extra large classroom.

"And why are you late?" The teacher asks.

"I walked here,"

"But you walk everyday," She replies. Stupid, stupid Charlotte.

"I got lost on the way," That's a stupid excuse. I've been walking these streets my whole life, an amateur will never even believe that excuse.

She lets it slide and sends me off to my seat.

"I hope you guys got the last part before the little disruption. And Charlotte, I'm not going over this topic again, get notes from your classmates, okay?"

"Yes ma'am." As if they'll ever lend me their book, I'll probably write theirs too.

"Charlotte!"

"Yes ma'am,"

"Pick up the books and rearrange them on my desk, will you?"

"I can't," I whisper. What's the best way to tell a teacher you can't bend and pick up her splattered books?

"What do you mean, you can't? Oh, you've grown wings now Charlotte?" Mrs Winters yells out.

"Please don't yell at me," I beg. Murmurings surfaces, enraging the headache I've got. The reason I declined Mrs Winters is because, my head aches harder when I tend to bend or run and now, I've got it worse.

"Leslie!" She screams.

"Yes," Leslie says, standing up.

"Will you talk some sense into your sister?" I guess I hurt her ego.

"Sure thing," She draws out.

"Stop making a scene and pick up the damn books!" Leslie shouts, sashaying her way towards Mrs Winters and I, at the top of the classroom.

"Language!" Mrs Winters calls out.

"Of course, Mrs Snow Winter," Leslie responds in a demeaning manner.

"What did you say?" The astounded teacher asks.

"Ah, nothing. I'll deal with little miss goody two shoes here," She changes the subject.

"What's up sis? You got your period?" She chuckles, others joins in. Even Mrs Winters let a chuckle slip past her lips.

"It's just headache," I point out. Mrs Winters scoffs.

"Yeah right," She disbelieving says.

All of a sudden, she grabs my hand and forces me to bend down, a surge of pain rush through me at the sudden impact, forcing my eyes to close in before I can even understand what's going on.