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**Chapter 3**
*"Memory is a thief that steals time, but it's also a gift that lets us hold what we've lost."*
The hospital room was quieter now, the machines' beeps softened by the haze of Elias's fading strength. The pain in his chest, that brutal fire from yesterday, had dulled to a smoldering ache, as if his body had made a fragile truce with the disease that consumed it. At sixteen, Elias knew his time was slipping, each breath a borrowed moment. The window still framed a sky he'd never touch again, but today, it didn't taunt him. It was just there, a backdrop to the only thing that mattered: his family, gathered around him like stars in a constellation he'd soon leave behind.
Anna, his mother, sat on his left, her hand clasped around his, her thumb tracing circles over his knuckles. Her face was pale, her eyes red-rimmed but steady, as if she could will him to stay through love alone. Lily, his ten-year-old sister, curled against his side, her stuffed rabbit, Mr. Flops, pressed between them. Her small body was warm, a tether to a world Elias wasn't ready to leave. Richard, his father, stood at the foot of the bed, his tailored suit replaced by a wrinkled sweater, his usual polish eroded by sleepless nights. The divorce that had fractured them seemed distant now, a wound that didn't matter when time was so short.
Elias's mind drifted, the morphine blurring the edges of now and then. He saw flashes of before—memories that flickered like old film reels, vivid and fleeting. He was six, running through a summer field with Lily toddling behind, her laughter a bell that made the world brighter. He'd scooped her up when she tripped, her tiny arms wrapping around his neck as he spun her until they both collapsed, giggling in the grass. Anna had been there, her hair loose, her smile unburdened by the grief that would come. Richard, too, had been softer then, tossing a football to Elias, his rare laughter echoing across the yard. Those were the days when family felt like a promise, not a fragile thread.
Another memory surfaced: the night before the divorce was finalized. Elias, thirteen, had found Lily crying in her room, clutching Mr. Flops, asking why Daddy was leaving. He'd lied to her then, saying it was just a grown-up fight, that everything would be okay. He'd stayed with her until she fell asleep, her small hand in his, vowing to protect her from a world he couldn't control. He hadn't known then that he'd be the one to leave her first.
"Elias?" Lily's voice pulled him back, small and trembling. She looked up at him, her dark eyes searching his face. "You're not gonna go away, right?"
His heart cracked. He wanted to promise her forever, to say he'd always be her big brother, the one who'd chase away nightmares and teach her how to ride a bike. But the truth was heavier than his lungs could carry. "I'm right here now, Lil," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. "That's what counts."
She nodded, but her lip quivered, and she buried her face in his shoulder. Elias felt the warmth of her tears through his gown, and he wished he could hug her properly, not just lie here, tethered by tubes and weakness.
Anna squeezed his hand, her eyes meeting his. "You're so strong, baby," she said, her voice steady despite the tears pooling in her lashes. "You've always been."
Elias wanted to tell her she was the strong one, carrying the weight of his illness, the bills, the broken family, all without breaking. But his breath was shallow, each word a labor. Instead, he managed a small smile, hoping it said what his voice couldn't.
Richard shifted, his hands restless at his sides. "Elias," he said, his voice low, almost breaking. "I… I should've been here more. I'm sorry."
Elias looked at his father, seeing not the man who'd chosen wealth over family, but the one who'd once taught him how to tie a tie, his hands patient and sure. "You're here now," Elias said, echoing his words from yesterday. It wasn't forgiveness, not entirely, but it was enough.
The memories came faster now, unbidden, as if his mind was racing to hold onto every moment before it was too late. He saw the Christmas when he was ten, when Anna had baked cookies that burned because they'd all been too busy decorating the tree, laughing until their sides hurt. He saw Lily's first day of school, her pigtails bouncing as she waved to him from the bus, trusting he'd be there when she got home. He saw the hospital visits, the endless tests, the doctors' faces blurring into one another, and Anna's unwavering presence through it all. These were the pieces of him, the fragments he'd carry into whatever came next.
The pain in his chest stirred again, a slow burn at first, then a sudden, searing wave that stole his breath. He gasped, his body arching against the bed, his hand tightening around Anna's. The machines screamed, their alarms a frantic chorus. Lily sat up, her eyes wide with fear. "Elias? Elias!"
Anna was on her feet, her voice sharp with panic. "Clara! Somebody, please!" She pressed the call button, her other hand never leaving Elias's.
Clara rushed in, her calm shattered as she checked the monitors. "Elias, hang on," she said, adjusting the oxygen and calling for the doctor. But Elias felt it—the tide pulling him under, the pain so immense it was a storm swallowing him whole. His lungs fought for air, each breath a blade, but they couldn't keep up. His vision dimmed, the room fading to shadows.
"Stay with me, baby," Anna pleaded, her voice breaking. She leaned over him, her tears falling onto his cheek. "Please, Elias."
Lily was sobbing now, her small hands clutching his arm. "Don't go, Elias! You promised!" Her words were a knife, sharper than the pain in his chest.
Elias wanted to stay, to fight for them, but his body was betraying him, slipping away like sand through his fingers. He forced his eyes to focus, to hold onto their faces—Anna's fierce love, Lily's desperate hope, even Richard's quiet regret. "Love you," he whispered, the words barely audible, but they carried everything he had left.
Another memory flashed: the last time he'd felt whole, before the disease took root. He was fourteen, racing Lily to the park, her laughter trailing behind him like music. They'd collapsed on the grass, staring at the clouds, naming shapes until the sun set. "You're my best friend," she'd said, and he'd promised to always be there. The memory was a lifeline, but it couldn't hold him now.
The pain surged again, a final, crushing wave, and Elias felt himself slipping, the world growing distant. The machines' alarms faded, replaced by a soft hum, like the wind through that summer field. He saw Anna's face, her eyes locked on his, willing him to stay. He saw Lily, her sobs shaking her small frame. He saw Richard, stepping closer, his hand on Lily's shoulder, his face crumpling with a grief he'd never shown before.
"I'm sorry," Elias thought, though his voice was gone. He wanted to tell them to keep going, to hold each other, to remember the love that outlasted the pain. But the darkness was closing in, gentle now, not cruel. It wasn't an end, he thought, but a shift, like stepping into a dream he couldn't name.
His chest stilled, the pain dissolving into quiet. The machines flatlined, a single, unbroken note. Anna's cry tore through the room, raw and primal, as she clutched his hand, her body folding over his. "No, Elias, no," she sobbed, her voice a shattered prayer. Lily wailed, burying her face in his chest, Mr. Flops falling to the floor. "Come back, Elias, please!" she begged, her small fists pounding against the bed.
Richard sank to his knees, his hands covering his face, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The room was a storm of grief, but Elias was beyond it now, a quiet star in a sky they couldn't see. Clara stood back, tears in her eyes, her hands useless against the loss.
Anna held Elias's hand, kissing his knuckles, whispering, "You fought so hard, my love." Lily clung to him, her sobs softening into whimpers, her face pressed against his still chest. They stayed there, mother and daughter, bound by a love that death couldn't steal, mourning the boy who'd been their light.
The hospital room was silent now, save for their cries, the machines turned off, the sky outside darkening. Elias was gone, but his love lingered, woven into the memories they'd carry forever.
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