CLARA
I scoffed. He still saw me as a friend? Was I supposed to be grateful for that?
That felt like an insult. A slap to the face after everything we had shared.
"And I can't even begin to imagine the kind of pain you're going through. My grandmother said it's horrible."
I had not asked what type of cancer she had. I did not need to. I already knew how cruel it could be. I lived with it.
"Please, Clara." William clasped my hand. "You need to do it."
My throat tightened. I shook my head, trying to pull free, but his grip did not loosen.
"You don't get to tell me that," I murmured.
He did not know. He did not know why I was refusing in the first place.
If only I could have a peaceful death. If only last year, when the symptoms grew worse, it had just ended.
Sometimes I wondered if God was keeping me alive deliberately. Because I had no hope left. I was simply existing, one day at a time.
