Looking back on my life I didn’t feel any remorse per say but more of a feeling of emptiness. I had the feeling that I missed some vital spark, either a person or thing, which would have filled this gap within me. It was by no means a bad life. I had excellent grades during high school with plenty of friends and a loving family that supported me but I still felt a calling. A desire to do or contribute something worthwhile to something greater than one single person.

I suppose that’s why I joined the military immediately after high school in order to feel part of something more. Unfortunately for me the world was falling apart at the seams with religious fanatics proclaiming religious crusades and two bit dictators springing up with an alarming frequency. I was fighting in hellholes where you can’t even tell enemies from civilians. You could talk to someone today and by tomorrow they could be trying to kill you and really what was the point of all the fighting anyway? Oh sure, you could kill the mass murderer masquerading as a leader but within a month another one would replace him. They would pretend to play nice for a little bit before they began “rehabilitating” the unwanted and the cycle would repeat.

I finally got out of all that after 10 long years and I only felt relief. Relief that I wouldn’t have to hold a friend’s hand and watch him struggle to say one last thing. Watch as the life in his eye’s dimmed and flickered one last time before disappearing forever. Relief that I wouldn’t have to see a father huddled over, holding onto his child’s corpse, his eye’s unseeing, asking why? Why did my child have to die? If God heard his silent question he didn’t seem to deem it necessary to answer leaving him there, alone, surrounded by the rubble that was once his home.

My reminiscing is broken by the sound of the door opening. I look over and see my longtime friend from my soldiering days walk in.

I smile weakly and call out “What’s up doc?” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and sits down next to my bed. I could tell the news wasn’t going to be good by his face. I’ve made it many times while holding onto a dying friends hand. “Still calling me by my nickname I see.” “Of course, I scoff, Doc is Doc do you even have another name cause if so I’ve forgotten it long ago.” “It’s right here” he says pointing at a small placard attached to his chest. “You probably stole it from someone else” I wave my hand dismissively sending bolts of pain throughout my body. I grunt, from the pain, and Doc’s smile fades away. He holds up a folder that I didn’t see when he came in. “I have your test results and there’s really no other way to say this but it’s not good, not good at all. The cancer was able to metastasize before the chemo could catch it and its spread throughout your body. I’m sorry Scott it’s only a matter of time now.”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

I nod grimly, “Hehe, after all that we went through I always thought it would’ve been a bullet that killed me. So Doc, how long do I have to live?” He sighs his eyes downcast, “Two weeks maybe a little longer. I can at least get you off the chemo and increase the amount of morphine to alleviate the pain a little.” “So that’s it then? There’s nothing left to do except wait to die?” I manage to croak out. Doc shakes his head slowly, “You had a chance if it hadn’t metastasized but we caught it far too late. I’m truly sorry Scott there is nothing we can do.” A silence falls between us as the words sink in. ‘Two weeks, two weeks left to live.’

I thought I was prepared for the possibility but actually hearing the words spoken aloud I felt as though a weight was crushing my chest. The crushing weight of knowing you’re going to die, it looms over you. You can’t run from it and you can’t fight it. My eyesight becomes hazy and my throat constricts. Doc tries to console me but we both know nothing can change the fact that I’m dying. Eventually Doc leaves me after promising to contact my family. I’m alone now.

The only thing to keep me company is the glow of the heartbeat monitor. Its beeps in tune with my heartbeat *babump babump babump* I guess it’s truly my Angel of Death. Watching over me every second of every day until it announces my end to the world, this coldhearted machine of metal and plastic.

~~ Three weeks later ~~

I won’t tell you of the time I spent with my family during my final days on this planet. I won’t go into detail of the agonizing pain I went through every day. Those memories are private and they are mine alone to bear as the end nears.

It’s nearly 2am right now I’m only up right now because the pain drove me from my sleep. I glance at the heartbeat monitor my ever faithful companion through these trying times. Watching the line move up and down on the screen. I see it falter for a moment and then it comes. The lines waver and begins to move erratically across the screen. I thought it would be more painful at the end but strangely the pain has left leaving me to watch the machine. Slowly ever so slowly the length between beats lengthens. ‘It’s almost if it’s the tune to send me back to sleep.’ I close my eyes waiting for the end and listen to the sound. *beep.beep..beep…beep….beep…..beep……………….beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep*