I blinked and I looked at it again.
I couldn't have 8 days. Nat had 78 years...and I don't even have a single year left to live.
My breath quickened as I dropped the timer. What...
"Taylor, are you okay?" Nat's voice seemed muffled and far away. I wasn't even aware that my cheek was wet, that I fell to the floor.
I was 18. How could this possibly happen?
Somewhere in my brain, I registered that Natasha picked up my timer and gasped. She threw herself on me and hugged me.
I hugged her back...but surprisingly didn't feel anything. No anger, no fear, no anxiousness...just a void of....nothing.
All my dreams and hopes and wishes...crushed. I only have 8 days. 8 days to breath.
What am I going to do? What am I suppose to do? Is it going to painful?
My breath quickened, and I felt true panic and fear. My chest shuddered with another painful inhale.
My cold, lifeless body flashed in my mind.
Nat hugged my tighter which made me push her away. Claustrophobia took over.
The room was too small. My clothes were too tight. jThe collar was choking me. It felt like my coffin.
I slammed the down open and ran outside and melted on the grass. I can't do this.
Nat ran outside with me and sat down next to me. She didn't make another try to hug me.
I cried for God knows how long. My eyes hurt from the tears. My eyes were red and puffy, my lips cracked and dry. My throat hurt and my hands still shook. But soon after, I gathered myself. I'm going to make the best of what's left. I'm going to live the rest of my life on a high note.
I looked at Natasha. She was crying too.
I gave her a small smile.
"Ready to have the best eight days of our lives?"
"You bet." She smiled.
We drank. We tried to forget. We smoked, we danced. We went to parties, stayed late. I went on roller coasters, ate everything, spent money on jewelry, did everything and nothing. Talked about Nat's dreams.
And every night at midnight, I would hear my timer beep, marking another day less that I get to live.
0 years, 0 days, 22 hours, 34 minutes