Tears trickle down her cheeks, her face to the wall, curled in the corner of her bed. She'd said goodnight, not because she was tired, but because she had to think. Leukemia... acute myeloid leukemia... cancer of the blood... treatment... chemotherapy... She was twelve, she wasn't ready to die. She wanted to be a teacher, she wanted to graduate high school and go to college and be a teacher- a music teacher to show children the wonderful world that is notes and keys and kind words. She didn't want to die.
She shakes and curls into a ball, stomach hurting as sobs overtake her, and when the sobs stop because tears can no longer come, her eyes are like that of a deer in headlights and all she wants to do is run from her reality, but she can't. She can't run away because cancer isn't like everything else, cancer is internal, cancer is inside her- she will never escape from it, and if she tries to run, it will catch her.
And when it catches her, she will be dead.