Hate You: Prologue

I stare down at my gran’s pale skin. Her cheeks are sunken and her eyes tired. She’s been fighting this for too long now, and as much as I hate to even think it, it’s time she found some peace.

I take her cool hand in mine and lift her knuckles to my lips.

“It’s Tabitha,” I whisper. I’ve no idea if she’s awake, but I don’t want to startle her.

Her eyes flicker open. After a second they must adjust to the light and she looks right at me. My chest tightens as if someone’s wrapping an elastic band around it. I hate seeing my once so full of life gran like this. She was always so happy and full of cheer. She didn’t deserve this end. But cancer doesn’t care what kind of person you are, it hits whoever it fancies and ruins lives.

Pulling a chair closer, I drop onto it, not taking my eyes from her.

“How are you doing today?” I hate asking the question, because there really is only one answer. She’s waiting, waiting for her time to come to put her out of her misery.

“I’m good. Christopher upped my morphine. I’m on top of the world.”

She might be living her last days, but it doesn’t stop her eyes sparkling a little as she mentions her male nurse. If I’ve heard the words ‘if I were forty years younger’ once while she’s been here, then I’ve heard them a million times. She’s joking, of course. My gran spent her life with my incredible grandpa until he had a stroke a few years ago. Thankfully, I guess, his end was much quicker and less painful than Gran’s. It was awful at the time to have him healthy one moment and then gone in a matter of hours, but this right now is pure torture, and I’m not the one lying on the hospital bed with meds constantly being pumped into my body.

“Turn the frown upside down, Tabby Cat. I’m fine. I want to remember you smiling, not like your world’s about to come crashing down.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I just—” a sob breaks from my throat. “I don’t know how I’m going to live without you.” Dramatic? Yeah. But Gran has been my go-to person my whole life. When my parents get on my last nerve, which is often, she’s the one who talks me down, makes me see things differently. She’s also the only one who’s encouraged me to live the life I want, not the one I’m constantly being pushed into.

That’s the reason I’m the only one visiting her right now.

When my parents discovered that she was the one encouraging my ‘reckless behaviour’, as they called it, they cut contact. I can see the pain in her eyes about that every time she looks at me, but she’s too stubborn to do anything about it, even now.

“You’re going to be fine. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. How many times have I told you, you just need to follow your heart. Follow your heart and just breathe. Spread your wings and fly, Tabby Cat.”

Those were the last words she said to me.