"What do you mean you're going to kill yourself?"

My father's voice cracked as he said those words, his face a mask of confusion and horror. I hadn't meant to phrase it quite like that, but now that it was out there, I realised how it must have sounded.

"Dad, it's not—" I started, but Mum cut me off.

"Elizabeth Reid, you cannot be serious," she said, her tone sharp with disbelief. "After everything we've been through, after all the treatments and—"

"Mum, please, just listen," I pleaded, raising my hands. "I'm talking about assisted suicide. At the hospital."

The kitchen fell silent, save for the quiet hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the clock on the wall. I looked at each of their faces in turn: Dad, his brow furrowed in concern; Mum, her lips pressed into a thin line; and little Meri, my seven-year-old sister, who seemed more confused than anything else.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. This wasn't how I'd planned to have this conversation, but I should have known it wouldn't be easy. How do you tell your family that you've decided when and how you're going to die?

"I know we've talked about the organ donation," I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. "But I've made a decision about... about how I want to go."

Dad's eyes widened in understanding, but Mum's expression remained unchanged. Meri tugged at her sleeve.

"Mummy, what's assisted suicide?" she asked, her innocent question piercing the tension in the room.

Mum ignored her, her gaze fixed on me. "Elizabeth, darling, you're not thinking clearly. The treatments—"

"The treatments aren't working, Mum," I interrupted, hating the way my voice trembled. "We all know that. I've known it for a while now."

"No," Dad said, shaking his head. "No, that's not true. The doctor said—"

"He said we should prepare for all eventualities," I finished for him. "This is me preparing."

I watched as the reality of my words sank in. Dad slumped into a chair, his head in his hands. Mum remained standing, her posture rigid, as if holding herself together through sheer force of will. Meri looked between us all, her bottom lip quivering.

"Beth, are you going away?" she asked, her voice small and frightened.

I knelt down beside her, forcing a smile onto my face. "Not yet, Meri. I'm just talking to Mum and Dad about some grown-up stuff. Why don't you go play in your room for a bit?"

She nodded hesitantly, casting one last glance at our parents before scurrying out of the kitchen. As soon as she was gone, Mum seemed to deflate, collapsing into the chair next to Dad.

"How long have you been thinking about this?" she asked, her voice hollow.

I stood up, leaning against the kitchen counter. "A few weeks," I admitted. "Ever since my last check-up."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Dad looked up at me, his eyes red-rimmed.

"I didn't know how," I said, feeling the sting of tears in my own eyes. "I didn't want to upset you."

"Upset us?" Mum let out a bitter laugh. "Elizabeth, you're talking about... about..."

"Choosing when I die, Mum," I said, forcing the words out. "I'm talking about having control over my last moments."

The words hung in the air, heavy and oppressive. I'd never said it out loud before, not like this. It felt strange, almost liberating, to finally acknowledge it.

"But you're only seventeen," Dad said, his voice barely audible. "You can't just... decide this."

"I'm not just deciding on a whim," I insisted, surprised by the strength in my own voice. "I've thought about this, a lot. It's about dignity. About going out on my own terms."

Mum shook her head, a tear sliding down her cheek. "No. No, I won't allow it. We'll find another treatment, another doctor. There has to be something—"

"Mum, stop," I said, more forcefully than I'd intended. "Please. I've made my decision."

"Your decision?" she repeated, her voice rising. "Elizabeth, you're a child. You can't possibly understand—"

"I'm dying, Mum!" I shouted, my composure finally cracking. "I understand that perfectly well. I've understood it for months, even if you and Dad couldn't accept it."

The silence that followed was deafening. I could hear my own heart pounding in my ears, see the shock on my parents' faces. I'd never raised my voice to them like that before.

"I'm sorry," I said, softer now. "I didn't mean to shout. But I need you to listen to me. Really listen."

Dad nodded slowly, reaching out to take Mum's hand. She gripped it tightly, as if it were a lifeline.

I took another deep breath, trying to organise my thoughts. "I've been thinking a lot about... about what I want my last days to be like. About how I want to say goodbye. And I realised that I don't want to waste away in a hospital bed, in pain, unable to recognise you or Meri."

"But darling," Mum said, her voice choked with emotion, "we'll be there with you, every step of the way."

I smiled sadly. "I know, Mum. And that means everything to me. But this isn't just about you. It's about me, and what I want."

"And what about what we want?" Dad asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "What about our wishes?"

I felt a lump form in my throat. "I know it's hard. I know it's not fair to ask this of you. But I need your support. I need you to understand why I'm doing this."

"Help us understand, then," Mum said, wiping away a tear. "Because right now, all I can think is that my little girl wants to... to leave us sooner than she has to."

I took a shaky breath. "It's not about leaving sooner. It's about leaving while I'm still me. While I can still say goodbye, while I can still tell you how much I love you. And yes, it's also about the organ donation. About making sure I can help others, even at the end."

Dad stood up suddenly, crossing the kitchen in two long strides and pulling me into a hug. I felt his body shake with silent sobs, and I clung to him, letting my own tears fall freely.

"My brave girl," he murmured into my hair. "My beautiful, brave girl."

I felt Mum's arms encircle us both, and for a moment, we just stood there, holding each other. It was as if, in that moment, we could hold back the future, keep the inevitable at bay for just a little longer.

When we finally pulled apart, Mum cupped my face in her hands, her eyes searching mine. "Are you absolutely certain about this?" she asked.

I nodded. "I am, Mum. I've never been more certain of anything in my life."

She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a shaky breath. When she opened them again, I saw a resolve there that I hadn't expected. "Then we'll support you," she said. "Whatever you need, whatever you want to do, we'll be there."

"Thank you," I whispered, feeling a weight lift from my shoulders. "That means everything to me."

We stood there, the weight of our conversation hanging heavy in the air. Then, from the doorway, I heard Meri's small voice.

"Beth? Am I still being the flower girl at your wedding?"

I turned to see my little sister clutching her stuffed rabbit, her eyes wide with uncertainty. Despite everything, I couldn't help but smile.

"Of course you are," I said, kneeling down to her level. "Did you think I'd forgotten?"

She shrugged, hugging her rabbit tighter. "I thought maybe... because everyone looked so sad..."

I glanced up at Mum, who was trying to compose herself. "The wedding is still happening, love," Mum said, wiping her tears.

I nodded, pulling Meri into a gentle hug. "That's right. Nathan asked me to marry him on his birthday, remember? And you're going to be the loveliest flower girl anyone's ever seen."

Her face lit up. "Really?"

"Really," I said, tapping her nose lightly. "I promise."

As Meri scampered away again, chattering about dresses and flowers, I stood up and faced my parents. The tension in the room had shifted, but it was far from gone.

"I can't quite believe we're still going ahead with the wedding," Mum said, shaking her head.

Dad put his arm around her shoulders. "It's what Beth wants," he said quietly. "And Nathan... well, he knows the situation."

I felt a lump forming in my throat. "I know it might seem mad," I said. "Getting married when I'm... when I don't have much time. But Nathan and I, we want this. We need this moment."

Mum nodded, wiping her eyes. "I understand, darling. It's just... it's rather a lot to take in. The wedding, and now this decision about..."

She trailed off, unable to say the words 'assisted suicide' again.

"I know," I said, reaching for her hand. "And I'm so grateful that you're both trying to understand. That you're supporting me."

Dad cleared his throat. "Right then," he said, his voice rough. "What's our next step?"

I took a deep breath, trying to order my thoughts. "I suppose we need to speak with the doctors about it all. And perhaps a solicitor? I'm not sure about the legal side of things."

Mum straightened up. "Yes, and we ought to contact the hospital's ethics committee. They'll know about the procedures and necessary paperwork."

"And the wedding," Dad added softly. "We need to keep planning the wedding."

I felt so much love for them both. Even facing their own grief and shock, they were trying to help, to support my decisions - both the joyful and the heartbreaking ones.

"Thank you," I said. "For listening, for trying to understand. I know this isn't easy for either of you."

"It's not," Dad agreed, pulling me into another hug. "But we're in this together. Always."

That was all I needed.