Dillon Baker
Time for my shots. I pulled out my hand, took a moment to hold my breath, and then stuck the needle in my arm. One, two, three, four, five it was done. I smiled at the nurse looking at me with concern, and handed her my needle. She gave me the second one. I took it, and once again stabbed myself in the name of medicine. She gave me her pity smile as she handed me the last shot. I sighed, injecting myself for the final time that afternoon. At 7pm it would be the same exact thing.
The nurse then took the injections away to clean and I felt like I could breathe again. Happy Birthday, Dillon. On my seventeenth birthday, instead of partying and doing crazy stuff, I was sitting on a hospital bed, and actually I wasn't even sitting on my own, the hospital bed was propping me up. I was drinking this horrible vitamin juice meant to build up my immunity. I was waiting for my parents who lived across the street to come with some present and tell me they are so sorry that I couldn't be out in the real world doing everything they did when they were my age, just like every other fucking birthday I have ever had. Since I could remember anyway.
I was going to have to just sit still and do nothing. Big surprise. I grabbed my remote control and turned on the TV. For my fifteenth birthday my parents got me my first ever video game, it was a PS2, now I have a PS3 and an Xbox One and a whole bucket load of games. Some of them were sick perks. I piled them up on a side of my bed so that I could have easy access to them, and on special occasions I allowed myself to play for as long as I wanted to. Today would be one of those days. I would lazy around and play, be able to do something with myself and with my time other than just think about how I'd rather be anywhere but where I am now.
Weak. Helpless. Alone. I turned on the Xbox and started my newest game, Ground Zero, I started playing for a few minutes when there was a knock on my door. I paused the game.
"Yeah?"
"Honey, it's us." My mom's voice. I rolled my eyes at the cooing. I was seventeen.
"Alright, you guys can just come in you know." I replied. The door creaked open. My mother came in with a timid smile, and my father followed her.
"Hey, how're you doing?" My father said, trying to act strong, but his eyes told of his fear. Something was off.
"I'm good, you know, never been better." I grinned at them. My mother half laugh half choked.
"Happy birthday, sweetie!" She gave me hug. My father then came and patted me on the back.
"Happy birthday, bud." I nodded at them.
"Yep. I think one more birthday and I'll be happy." My mother frowned.
"What do you mean?" My father asked me, his voice stern. I smiled.
"I mean, one more year till I'm outta here right? No more injections, no more lying in bed all day, no more wishing I could actually have a life. When I'm eighteen I don't have to be here anymore. Look, I know how to take care of myself, all I gotta do is take those injections, I've been doing them by myself for years." My father's face got angrier and angrier as I continued.
"You don't know what you're saying." His voice dipped dangerously low.
"No, you don't know what I'm saying." My father's eyes narrowed.
"Don't you talk to me like that."
"Or what?!" I yelled. Rare. I lowered my voice. "What are you gonna do, huh? Stop paying my bills, stop supporting me so that your little business can take off? You think I don't know what's going on with our family. You think I don't know that we're broke?! What the hell are you going to do, kill me?!" My father grabbed my hospital shirt and pulled me up. My mother screamed and slapped him.
"Get out of here Phil, now!" She glared at him. "Now! And don't come back in here if you're planning on hurting him."
"He's dying, Shanelle! Stop protecting him. If he wants to go out when he's eighteen we can't stop him. I'm not paying the bills for an ungrateful child."
"You're not paying my bills because you don't got any money, you selfish son of a-"
"Enough!" My mother screamed. "The nurses are bound to be here any minute. You two shut up. I want you out of here Phil. And I don't know what's going on with you Dill, but if you talk to your father like that I'll be the one hurting you. Got it?" I nodded slowly. My father left, slamming the door behind him.
"I'm surprised the nurses haven't already come." My tone was soft.
"They know your father and I know how to handle you. They're not too worried. Besides, I'm sure we're not the only family with anger issues."
"I don't have anger issues." I defended myself.
"Then why the hell did you yell at your father like that? Huh? You know he's stressed right now, he's ready to take it out on anyone. You know that."
"Maybe I wanted him to take it out on me. I feel so helpless, mom. I can't do anything. I can't be anything. I just sit around all day hoping that I'll be strong enough to even walk out for lunch or dinner. My happiest moments are when I'm out, even if only for five minutes before Ruta says 'That's enough, he'll bleed to death.'" My mother's eyes widened.
"She says that?"
"She doesn't mean it. It's just who she is. But that's not the point." I sighed. "The point is, I need to live, mom. I need to know what it's like to drive a car, get a job, go to a dance, and be loved. I want to be able to be there for you guys. I feel so stupid and cheated."
"Honey, I know you want to be there for us. But right now, the only way you can be there for us, is not disrespecting us." I nodded.
"I didn't mean to--I wasn't going to--I just don't get why you guys are so afraid of me dying all the time."
"Because you could die, anytime. Dill, you're at the highest risk factor. The doctor pulled us in before we came here and said, you're just getting worse as you age and get stronger. For some reason, it's making the blood clots worse. Moving could trigger internal bleeding. Anything could." Tears were forming in her eyes. "You know Dill that if there was anything your father and I could do, we would do it. No matter the cost. The two of us, we really don't want to lose you." The tears slid down her face. I brought my hand up and wiped them away.
"I promise I'll fight mom, I'll live. Don't worry. And I promise I'll never talk to dad like that again. I just thought it was about the money. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." My mother wrapped her arms around me and I held her tightly as she cried. "It's okay mom." I told her.
"I'll figure something out."
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