Holly's eyes flicked up from the pages of the book and her brow furrowed as she studied my face. After a moment, she tucked a lock of her red-brown hair behind her ear. The lock refused to stay put, the curly strand popped free immediately.

"You're in pain."

"I'm always in pain. Today is no different. Read," I told her, wiggling my fingers in the direction of the book. Moving anything else would have caused more pain than I wished to entertain at the moment.

Her lips parted as if she wished to say more, but instead, her eyes dropped back to the pages of the book and she continued reading. "Your place looks like the World's Fair," I said. "Does it?" He turned his eyes toward it absently. "I have been glancing into some of the rooms. Let's go to Coney Island, old sport. In my car." She paused, placing her marker in the pages before tucking the book beside her. Her eyes were focused on my hand where it gripped the bed's rail. "Is it worse today?"

My jaw clenched tightly to keep my pained grunt at bay. I'd been praying silently she wouldn't notice. It was a foolhardy hope considering my knuckles were white where my hand gripped the bed's metal rail. When I didn't immediately answer her query, she rose from her seat. My hand flashed out to clutch her wrist. I ignored the pain that quick movement caused because it kept her at my side.

"No, please don't go. Stay and read some more. Please?"

Her lower lip disappeared between her teeth. It was an endearing trait of hers that I loved. After a moment of consideration, she resumed her seat and picked up the book. "All right, but only until I finish this chapter. Then I go fetch the doctor."

There was little point in disagreeing with her. My savior may appear to be the quiet, sweet, girl next door, but she could knock you on your ass before you realized she'd struck the blow. Despite appearances, she was stubborn and fierce.

When she began reading again, I placed my clenched fist beneath the blankets where she couldn't see it. Where she couldn't see my fingernails cutting little crescents into my palm. My eyes slipped shut, lulled by the rise and fall of her voice. This week it was the Great Gatsby. The name of last week's novel escaped me but I liked the protagonist in that book better. I must have drifted off to sleep because before I knew it I could hear the sound of whispered voices coming from the far side of the room pulling me from my slumber. One eyelid lifted and I spotted Holly across the room standing beside the door and speaking with the doctor who was in charge of my care.

A small sigh escaped my lips. It didn't matter how many times I told her not to bother, she would fetch the doctors. Some might say I should be grateful to her for the way she looked out for me. After all, it isn't as if my parents were here bashing heads to be certain my treatment was progressing as it should. They paid the bills, called occasionally, but that was the extent of their parental involvement. I wasn't certain if it was because they cared so little about what became of me or they simply couldn't deal with their only child lying in a hospital bed waiting to die. I saw no point in asking for confirmation on which it was. Eith answer would only disappoint me. Up until I was hospitalized I would have never doubted their devotion to me. This situation proved how delusional one could be about their own life.

Holly appeared beside the bed. "The doctor said they're going to try something new for the pain."

"I asked you not to fetch him."

She reached out, brushing a lock of my blond hair back from my forehead absently. "Since when do I listen?" she asked.

The lock of hair slipped back over my forehead. My hair was getting too long. I needed a haircut, but it certainly wasn't on the top of my to-do list at the moment. I was more concerned with other things. Like pain and death.

Still, I managed to grin at her when I answered. "Since never." I reached out and took her hand in mine. "Thank you for attempting to look our for me, even if we both know it's a wasted effort, I appreciate it." The smile she gave me warmed me.

Her fingers squeezed mine gently before relaxing and releasing her grip. "You need to stop believing that you're going to die. Have some hope."

"You need to stop believing I'm going to live. We both know that isn't going to happen."

She didn't bother answering me, I knew she believed I was being foolish. Instead, she lifted her things into her arms with a small smile. "Lazaro Gregg, at some point you need to choose, live or die. You can't keep one foot on solid ground while the other is swinging free over your grave as you wait to tumble in."

There was no response I could make to that statement, so I let her walk out the door. My eyes remained on the empty space she'd left behind. She was correct in one respect, I did already consider myself dead. Yet, when she walked into the room I wished to live badly enough that I ignored that conviction of mine. If she were by my side all hours of the day I would gladly choose life.

That thought sparked an idea inside my head. It was a notion I couldn't seem to ignore and it grew the longer I tried to push it aside. It begged to be entertained, it wanted life and it grew to the point I could no longer ignore it.