If Only We Could Love Again

In the seventh year of my illness, I was finally so broke that I couldn't even scrape together enough money for my medication the next day. To raise the money, my best friend went back to the nightclub and started taking clients. By the time I found out and rushed over, I could already hear her suppressed, trembling voice coming from the private room. "Duncan, we can't do this! "Wendy will be devastated if she finds out!" The next second, I heard my boyfriend's low, ragged moan. "How else are you going to counteract the drug's effects?" My fingernails dug into my palms. The pain made my vision turn black. What hurt even more was that after it was over, Katie came to my bedside with tear-filled eyes and shoved a crumpled stack of bills into my hand. "Wendy, I made enough money working the club tonight to cover your medical expenses tomorrow." Duncan looked at Katie's scraped knees and bruised wrists. His eyes instantly turned bloodshot. The next second, he turned to face me. Those eyes that had once been filled with affection now held nothing but exhaustion and resentment. "Wendy, why won't you just die? "How much longer are you going to drag us down?" Right after cursing at me, he still used the money he'd earned by selling his blood to buy me hot oatmeal and painkillers. On the other hand, he could afford to gnaw on only half of a cold, hardened slice of bread. I watched as he carefully pulled a blanket over Katie. His movements were gentle as he tried not to wake her. An aching sensation spread from my chest through my entire body. It felt like countless knives slowly scraping away at me from the inside. Silent tears slipped onto my pillow. It didn't matter. I was going to die soon. Soon enough, I would stop being a burden to them.