Terminal Illness Countdown Novels & Stories

“I also wanted to let you know—I’m sick. In case you were wondering.” I was but don’t tell him that. “I’m sorry to hear that.” “Terminal cancer,” he claims. My heart fucking sinks. “Yeah. I don’t have much time to live. I told Theo I wanted to be here. To die here. In the place where I was born. And look, we have a small adventure together before it happens.” “Grayson,” I start, unsure of what else to say. “It’s alright. You don’t have to say anything. I understand and appreciate your concern.”

They probably never would have guessed that I had brought this terminal illness upon myself. The doctor presented a series of treatment plans. For the time being, we would use medication to suppress the tumor and wait for conditions to improve before considering surgery. Against all expectations, the medication actually slowed the tumor's progression. The system had warned me that my body had to die within two years of completing the mission in order for me to return to my original world. If I missed that deadline, I'd be trapped here forever. I had less than a month to make that deadline now. In the days that followed, Jonah remained at my bedside without fail.

"Think of it as helping someone live, really live for whatever time they have left." He gripped her hand so tightly it hurt but she didn't pull away, didn't do anything except hold on while they both cried for futures that would never exist, for dreams that had died the moment a doctor said the word terminal. Finally when the tears had slowed, when they could both breathe again without sobbing, Lucas spoke. "The race," he said, his voice hoarse. "One week from now, you still want to do it." It wasn't a question but she answered anyway. "Yes."

The diagnosis hung in the sterile air of the command center like a death sentence. Entropy. It wasn’t a word of medicine; it was a word of cosmic finality. The universe’s slow, inevitable march towards cold, dead silence, now manifesting as a creeping grey crack in the very soul of Jack Miller.

But alas, that was unable for me in the short time I had to get you to safety. Remember when I asked you for words of advice for a man nearing his deathbed? I didn't know where to start, or how to let you know. But I'll be short and concise here, I'm dying. I suffer from a terminal illness which I do not wish to mention the name of. I haven't got much time to live, the doctors have revealed 5 months at most. Please don't worry yourself when you read this, it's the last thing I want to cause you. I know you've suffered so much pain living with us at the hands of Imran. I'm so sorry for that, I don't wish to further add to your pain.

[Host has suffered catastrophic injustice: deprivation of dignity and theft of achievement. [Current unfairness count: 3/3.] [Judgment confirmed. Death program initiating.] [Brain-death countdown: 10 minutes.]

February 28th, the last day of winter was setting like that. The last secret LF had hidden was the fact that he was suffering from hepatocellular carcinoma (HCC). The 'one year' he habituated saying was not a deadline to complete the mission, but a terminally ill time as his remaining life was running out. It was LF, who always recited softly that there was no time and acted like a person facing death right in front of his nose. Hyeon-sin slowly turned her head and looked at Choe Ju-hyeon, who was collapsing, and LF, who had lost consciousness.

"She said we were destined to have no children, so she used her lifespan to trade for Brandon... The countdown was the countdown to her death, not Brandon's..." "Destined to have no children? But... but we had Heidi!" Mom covered her mouth in disbelief. I nodded too. Yeah, that's ridiculous. The countdown started as soon as I was born. How could they get it wrong? Dad paused when he heard this. He said doubtfully, "Maybe Mom was delirious from her illness?" Then, his eyes reddened again, "But, Brandon's..." "Impossible, we couldn't have made a mistake! I'm going back to get a clear answer from her!"

I waited until it was close to midnight—I had three minutes to go. I started thinking back on my life, but it was too simple and plain. There didn't seem to be much to remember. My life had been a tragedy from the moment I was born. The minutes turned to seconds, and I slumped onto the table. I had my urn and photo beside me. Five, four, three, two, one… The countdown ended, and a dead silence descended upon me. The room went silent—even the sound of my breathing disappeared. At the same time, I heard the sound of the doorknob turning. Someone was back!

I said nothing, just let the word linger in the sterile air, and at this moment, it felt heavier than the fluorescent light that hung above us. My stomach dropped to the pit as I finally spoke up, my voice low, barely above a whisper. “N…no” I shook my head, my voice cracked. “I'm sorry, Miss” he said again, scanning the test results once more. “The tests are all conclusive and no decision was made rashly. The sickness is already in its advanced stages. And your body has been holding up for so long….but unfortunately….” He paused, taking a deep breath. “It can't anymore. You have less than nine months to live”