The story so far:
"I Have 30 Days to Live" -> (5 skipped) -> "Chapter Five: Coney Island King" -> "Chapter 6: Ego Tripping at the Gates of Dis"
Morning, day seven. Huh, all good children go to heaven. I awake with my eyes watering and nausea sitting in the back of my throat. I force my eyes shut, but the insides of the lids feel like sandpaper. Even with them shut, the bright sunlight shoots through the cracks in the blinds and pierces my eyelids like arrows through my skull. I try to move, but the pain and the queasiness halt me. I hear a cupboard slam downstairs, pain hammers through my head, through my body, and rattles in my stomach. I need to vomit, but I can’t move, movement means pain. Movement ignites the fire behind my right eye. God, it burns. I want to distract myself, I try to breath but want to scream out in pain as the air seems to stoke the hot, seething ball of flames breathing inside my skull. La Calavera. Day seven. I try to think of things to distract from the pain. My eyes are watering, am I crying? Maybe I’m crying, it hurts so bad. A gnawing gremlin balled up inside with the raw chords of my nerves between his teeth. It’s about to burst, my skull is going to burst. Day seven. Day seven. Day seven. Seven vertebrae, the atomic number of nitrogen. My wife walks in I can feel her, sense her quiet sadness. She hurts for me. I know it. I can’t open my eyes though. I can’t. If I do the sunlight will burn them out of the sockets. My skin hurts. I can’t relax, my whole body is tense. Teeth clenched. God it hurts.
“Sweetie,” she whispers, the faintest breath and my gremlin tantrums, shredding tender nerves. I just cringe in response. Day seven. Day seven.
“I’m sorry, your sister called, Lacy, she’s coming up later. Maybe you should take your pills. I’ll get you some water and an ice pack too.” She doesn’t touch me, she knows. Sister Lacy. Went to the fair once. She said she was too scared, but we rode anyway. I held her hand to make her feel better. That’s a real man, dad said. A man who looks out for family. Dad said that. Day seven, why does it have to hurt. Why a breathing thing growing in my brain and hurting so bad. Seven stars in the big dipper. Lacy got married in September. Sept, seven hills of Rome. Romans, blood, torture. Chained people to rocks in The Coliseum and let my gremlin eat them. Who thought of water torture? It dripped a hole in my skull and now the water is filling up my brain. It’s just water. I should tell them it’s just water. Like a water balloon. Maybe if they poke a little hole… I should tell the doctor to poke a little hole. Solve all my problems. Lacy was a swimming champion. Why does it hurt like this? Why won’t my eyes stop watering. I have to move, I’m going to puke. I slide out of bed. Swim on the carpet like Lacy in the pool. The Australian Crawl to the bathroom. The fire, God it’s on fire. Someone help me. I’m panicking. I know that, but this is pain, I can’t breath the pain I can’t. Day seven. Only Day seven. Day **** seven. And I can’t breath. I think I’m puking, but the pain won’t let me open my eyes. I feel coolness, tile, the bathroom floor. I feel a hand on my shoulder. She’s a saint. My saint, my savior. She cleans me up. Back to bed, can’t open eyes. I once hit Lacy in the eye with a baseball, catching I pitched. Mom was mad, dad said she should have moved her glove faster. Dad said I was a real man. I stuck up for family. I helped Lacy. Water and pills. Dexa something for the brain that swells and morphine. What do they care? I’m dying anyway. Just give him morphine. Just give me morphine. Dying day seven. Seven suicides in the bible, but she keeps the morphine. I don’t keep it because this pain, that presses outwards, the pressure on every nerve. I want to punch something. Break my hand cut through flesh stab myself to stop this. God it makes me mad. The pain makes me tense and so **** mad. I wish I could stand. I punch the mattress with the back of my fist and let out a noise, like a growl. I punch the bed again. It hurts it hurts day seven hurts. Both fists now pounding the bed and my legs kicking too. Pounding the pain, pounding the tumor. I hate this I hate this I hate this. Day seven I hate day seven. But I’m weak and I can’t like a tantruming child I can’t for long though because I’m tired. And the pain floods back in. Like bleeding waves like the gremlin like the hulk in my brain got mad got bigger. Nibble on my nerves hulkgremlin. Sharp teeth gnawing and growing bigger while it eats my brain. It eats my brain on day seven. Say it slowly day seven. I mouth it, day seven. Seven deadly sins. Sloth. Laying in bed waiting to die. And little Lacy, she will see me slothful and sad and dopy on morphine. I can’t I can’t let her see me like this. I wish I could be strong like Lacy’s back stroke. Clenched fists, nails digging into my palms. There is blood on the blanket from the little half moon cuts. It hurts. Just **** kill me. Somebody kill me. I want to scream, but they all hear then and me moaning makes them sad and I can’t I can’t I can’t make them sad. My room is dark now she puts a sheet over the window and the ice pack goes on the right. My savior. My saint. My wife, I love her. Seven external holes in the human head. My fireball gremlin will grow and leak out of every hole. But for now, it has Dexamorphine. For now it sleeps and shrinks. I sleep. I sleep morphine.
“Are you comfortable, Tony?” my wife asks as she fluffs a pillow behind my head. I’m sitting in my favorite recliner with an ice pack on my forehead. Lacy is in the kitchen, getting drinks for everyone. My sweet little sister. I know I look like **** today, but she didn’t even flinch when she saw me. Just smiled, just smiled her sweet little sister smile and kissed my cheek. I nod to my wife, trying hard to keep my eyes open. Morphine helps with the pain but it makes me so tired, I guess that part of the point. Sleep through all the bad stuff. Lacy walks back in, brave, all smiles.
“Anthony, here’s your water,” she says and hands me a glass. I take it in my hand, but as she takes her hand away I realize how heavy it is. The condensate droplets lubricate the glass and as it slips I try to grab harder, but it keeps sliding.
“Ooops! Sorry, little slippery,” Lacy says grabbing the glass from me as it’s about to fall. My wife smiles and hands her a straw. Lacy nods, taking the straw, and puts the glass on the table next to me. Not a word about how weak I am, she’s happy, helpful Lacy. She sits on a chair close to me. Karen sits across from her.
“Lace?” I croak.
“Yessir?” She smiles. She’s always called me Sir, ever since we were little. Said she sensed power and authority in me. She always knew I’d be successful.
“How are the swimming lessons going?”
“Great! I love the kids and the new pool they built just off the Rec Center is so nice. Did you know they put a retractable roof on it? I have some real strong swimmers too. It’s going to be a fun summer.” For the first time she frowns. She puts her hand up to her mouth and looks from Karen to me.
“Lacy, it’s what I want. I don’t want to talk about me dying. I want to talk about life and normal things. Please, don’t feel sorry. It will be a fun summer.” I take her hand, tears begin dropping down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know if I can pretend it isn’t happening. I’m going to miss you so much and, I,” she puts her hand back up to her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks, and looks at Karen who smiles and nods to her, “I have some good news. I just wasn’t sure you’d want to hear it, but Karen said to tell you.” She paused again, “Seth and I are going to have a baby.” She smiles through her tears and I’m so happy I can’t help but try to leap out of my chair to hug her. But the morphine is like a five point restraint and all I can muster is a slight move forward. Lacy jumps up from her chair and embraces me, smiling through her tears.
“When are you due?” I ask, feeling the wetness of her tears on my cheek.
“January, we don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl yet. I want to know, but Seth wants a surprise.” She stops, watching me. A twinge of pain seizes my head, I flinch, I know that, but I try hard not to. It only lasts for a maybe half a minute, but the pain is searing and I can feel my right eye squinting in response. And I’m so tired.
“Have you started thinking of names?” I know my voice sounds strained. Karen smiles at me, she thinks I’m the brave one. After I’m gone though, she’ll know it’s really her. Lacy takes a deep breath as her lip quivers.
“If it’s a girl, I like Zinnia. Seth thinks I’m crazy, but it’s a flower and it’s unique too. I think it’s cute, but he likes Beatrice. It was his Great Grandmother’s name. I think it sounds too old.”
“I told Seth Zinnia is adorable. I’m on your side,” Karen said laughing.
“That’s three to one then. Zinnia it is,” I said, the pain had passed and I managed some enthusiasm.
“But if it’s a boy, we’re in total agreement on Anthony,” she says, her voice breaking. She can’t hold back the tears anymore and neither can I. She clasps my hand so hard and I can feel her shaking.
“I’m honored, thank you,” is all I can mange through tears. I look up and Karen is crying too. At that moment a young voice from the kitchen drifts into the room.
“Aunt Lacy is here!” A bouncing Melissa enters as well all quickly dry our tears and put on brave faces for the kids.
'Day Seven' statistics: (click to read)
