Zayn

It had been about two weeks after my first chemotherapy treatment, my high fever and the days where I could only sit down on the toilet with a bowl in my hands because my stomach decided to empty itself in two ways. It was awful as I was extremely exhausted, but I couldn't stop it. The strength your stomach had was insane- I got woken up to throw up every single hour, even when my stomach was already empty.

Much to my happiness, it was completely over and my body could finally rest and recover from the heavy days.

The high fever was caused by the chemotherapy because it was new to my body and I wasn't immune to it. I didn't think I was ever going to be immune to it, since it was quite aggressive and considering to my Leukemia who was already fighting against my own healthy cells.. it would be rare.

The throwing up and diarrhea was a symptom of the chemotherapy as well. Besides that, I hadn't really noticed other symptoms of it until, now.

I woke up from my deep, full, night slumber and slowly rubbed the sleep from my eyes while yawning quietly. I stretched my arms out and turned on my side, snuggling deeper into the covers and its warmth to just lie down for another few minutes, something I loved.

Opening my eyes, all I could see was darkness. The curtains were closed but my alarm clock read it was already ten am, meaning they let me sleep in today.

I placed my hand next to my face on the pillow and my other hand was resting underneath my cheek. I frowned when I felt something thick but soft laying on my pillow next to my face. I really couldn't make out what it was and it scared me a little.

I slowly sat up and grabbed it, a ticklish feeling was soon followed after that as it felt like something was falling apart, down my arms onto the bed again. I brought it to my face but it was still too dark to see what it was.

Getting out of bed, I carefully made my way over to the window. I still had to gain all of my strength because of being so much in bed the past few days but I was getting there, at least I didn't fall like what had happened a few days ago.

I opened the curtains and closed my eyes at the bright sun that shined right into my eyes . I turned around, opened my hand and stared at it for a while, feeling like my heart just dropped a few inches along with my emotions.

Touching the strand of black hair with my other finger, I saw how the strand fell apart, ten, fifty or maybe a hundred hairs fell down onto the floor and I could only stare at it for a while.

I ran my fingers through my hair and it caused more strands of hair to fall out. The strands were thick and it caused me to feel a little unwell. I had expected it. Of course I had expected it. The doctor told me it would happen after all, but I didn't prepare myself for it. I wasn't ready to lose my hair already. Not yet.

Making my way over to the mirror, I couldn't help but run my fingers through my hair again, plucking out more and more strands. I let them all fall down onto the floor and kept doing it for a while. The more I did it, the more sad and mad I was starting to feel.

I stared at myself into the mirror and I could see my expression changing. I swallowed and clenched my jaw while I continued to pull my hair out, throwing it roughly onto the floor after that. It was unsightly, with all the bald spots on my head but something kept me motivated to keep going and to keep plucking my hair.

Doing it more and more, I eventually felt some kind of anger boiling up in me. Thoughts came back into my mind, the kind that told me this all isn't fair. That I don't deserve to be in a place like this, but, that was selfish. No one deserved this- not even the most cruel person in the world. This sickness was awful and it could ruin people. Physically- to death, but also mentally.

That was something I noticed. It ruined me mentally. Because each second I was staring into the mirror, the more I was starting to hate what it looked like. It was awful to see, I couldn't quite describe what I was feeling like when I saw myself like that.

I started to feel more frustrated and without thinking straight, I opened one of the drawers and snatched my shaver out of it, switched it on and adjusted it on my head. I started from behind and shaved the hair that was left off. I then moved to the sides of my head and shaved that too, placing the shaver on top of my head.

I kept staring at myself while shaving my whole head and it didn't take long before I was completely bald. Looking at myself in the mirror, it brought me a lot of emotions. I didn't know how to handle them so I started cursing loudly. At myself, at the sickness, at my hair and at my bald head.

"Shit!" Suddenly realising what I just did, my vision started to get blurry and I couldn't bear looking at myself anymore because I hated the view.

I threw my shaver on the floor with a lot of strength and it fell down with a loud thud, falling apart into a lot of pieces. It gave me more energy, perhaps upset adrenaline, and I started throwing more things on the floor, anything I saw at that moment. The glass my toothbrush was standing in broke into a thousand pieces, my deodorant and cologne, the strong scent filling my room, my clothes that ended up covering the floor. I pulled the sheets from my bed and started punching it while I let myself fall on it.

And on moments like these I didn't bother to hold back the emotions I was feeling. My eyes were filling with tears and it didn't take them long to start falling from my eyes and roll down my cheeks uncontrollably. Loud sobs left my mouth but my pillow knew how to muffle them. It was the way I handled my emotions, I wanted to scream it out, but I always kept them to myself.

Honestly, I hadn't known it would make me feel like this. I had thought I had left the emotions of anger behind the moment I had accepted my sickness a long time ago. How, could I, on moments like these, possibly stay positive?

I couldn't hold back the sobbing and crying to the point where my pillow case was soaked. My tears tasted salty, my sleeve finding its way to my face many times to try and keep my face as dry as possible. I hadn't cried in a very long time, I had bottled it up so I felt like I was crying harder than I had ever done before.

I suddenly heard the door open and my head shot up, changing my position to sitting down. I quickly dried my face and stared at the window to avoid the person who was standing behind me. I took a deep breath to try and calm my sobs but they, unfortunately, were still giving my body shocks. It was obvious for the person that I was crying.

"Zayn.." It was Caroline. I felt relieved that it wasn't Rose. I mean, I hated to cry in front of anybody in general, I had never done that before, but if my first time would be in front of Rose.. that'd be shameful in my eyes.

I didn't reply to her. I just kept staring at the window, tears still spilling from my eyes, onto my cheeks and seeping down my chin onto the floor.

I heard her footsteps coming closer to me and I couldn't contain a loud sob from leaving my mouth. More tears started to spill and she grabbed my hand. "Let it all out. It's okay."

I shook it off, "Leave me alone." I managed to get out without my voice cracking and I turned my body away from her, actually wanting to be alone for once.

"Zayn, it's okay. You can let it all out." She said, her soothing voice calming me, though, I wanted nothing more than be alone and cry everything out.

I shook my head, "Go away."

She softly grabbed my arm. "I said go away. You don't know what I'm feeling like." I turned my face to her but she didn't leave. She held up a box with tissues. I pushed it away and walked over to the window, staring out of it, though, the images never processed in my mind.

"No. You're right. I don't know what you're feeling like, but I'm here for you. And that's what matters at this point. I know you need someone, Zayn." Her voice was soft and sweet and it only made me cry harder.

I turned back around and looked at her, "Tell me how ugly I am." I had to blink several times to get a clear vision, the tears completely blurring my view.

Caroline grabbed my arm and pulled me closer. "Why'd you say something like that?" She wondered, tears collecting in the corners of her own eyes.

"Just tell me. How ugly am I?" I dried my face but it didn't make sense. The tears made it wet within a second.

Her expression changed to a sad one and I knew it was because of my words. "Don't say something like that. You're not ugly. Your hair doesn't define your beauty."

I didn't reply. I couldn't reply. I hated the fact that I suddenly got insecure and I just hoped she would understand me. I hoped she wasn't the type to think that only girls could get insecure about themselves because it wasn't true- guys got insecure too.

I started crying harder and I couldn't help but hum along with my sobs and cries. Caroline sat down on my bed and pulled me on her lap. I wrapped my arms around her neck and rested my chin on her shoulder as she started rubbing my back and trying to calm me down.

She was comforting me like my mum would do when I was a little kid and fell off my bike, but I couldn't care less. This was something everyone needed at times, especially when mothers couldn't always be there for you in moments you needed them.

I needed someone to hold me, to comfort me even if that person didn't understand- or more importantly- felt what I was going through.