I originally wrote this for a competition...but I'm thinking of writing more. What do you guys think?

  I wasn’t going to graduate. Ever.

I stood on the cliff edge, feeling the wind send careless fingers hearing the waves smash against the rocks some fifty meters below. A single tear traced down my cheek; I hardly noticed.

   I had just come from my oncologist¹ Dr. Mills’ office. He had told me I wasn’t going to graduate – my leukaemia had reached the final stages. My three years were up – I was at the blastic stage².

                “I’m so, so sorry, Taya. There’s nothing more we can do.” His blue eyes look at me with so much sympathy I nearly threw up.

    My bottom lip trembled as I remembered Dr. Mills’ kind voice giving me the news that hit me harder than I’d ever been hit. I wanted to cry, but there were no more tears left; only a desolate, hopeless ache that nothing could cure. I screwed my hands into tight, tight fists. All my hard work...for nothing.

Suddenly I was angry. All the ‘sorry’s in the world wouldn’t cure my cancer. I screamed, long and loud, so mad. I smashed my fist into the rocky ground, kicked a rock as hard as I could. The pain felt good, kept me from thinking. I ripped grass up furiously, raked my nails down my arms, punched the ground again and again.

                “No!” I shouted, screamed. My voice was hoarse. “No! NONONONO! I want to live!”

It couldn’t end like this! It couldn’t! I was sobbing, tears I didn’t know I had streaming down my face. I felt like flinging myself over  the cliff and letting the stormy waters claim me. Time seemed to stretch on endlessly, unrelenting. Bitterness, fury, loss, pain and loneliness swamped me. I was dying.

I screamed, my voice raw, no words only sound. I was on my knees, my fists bleeding, my arms bleeding, my knees red. Crimson spatters surrounded me and all I was aware of was the bitter, bitter taste of defeat.

And then warm, strong arms were around me, pulling me up, crushing me against a strong, warm chest. A voice, achingly familiar, was whispering in my ear. I cried harder than I ever had before, shaking, my body wracked with tears.

                “Tay, oh my gosh.” It was him, it was Chris. “Oh Taya.” I didn’t have to look up – I knew the handsome features by heart. His arms were still holding me tight and I wanted to curl up in them and sleep and never wake up.

Gradually my sobs slowed, reduced to a few hiccups. I knew I looked a mess, with my mascara running in streaks down my face, mingled with the tears, my eyes red and puffy. My head was wet from Chris’s own tears, and I screwed my eyes shut. Even with him I felt so alienated, so different and misunderstood.

                “I-I’m n-n-not going to gr-graduate,” I mumbled.

                “I was told.” Chris’s voice was soft and trembling as he rested his head on mine. “But we all have to die sometime.”

                “I guess.”

                “Stay strong, Tay. I love you,” he murmured, and I started silently crying all over again.

I wasn’t going to graduate. Ever.

¹ a doctor who specializes in cancer treatment

² The final stages of leukaemia

Wow. That's pretty powerful. I would like to read more, but I don't know if that would spoil the impact that this has just on its own...? The repitition of 'I wasn't going to graduate. Ever.' at the beginning and end sort of make it a finished piece I think... either way, I love it ^.^