He sat there, on the cold concrete bridge staring into the icy water below. His brown hair whipped across his lined forehead. Tears pooled in his green eyes as he thought about what happened, as he let the pain slowly kill him. He had his hand in the pocket of his black trench coat, playing with the velvet box in his pocket. He ran his thumb over the soft fabric.
“Hey!” A deep voice from behind him screamed. He slowly turned his whole body to face it.
“Go away.” He turned back to the frothy water below. He felt a sudden heat next to him, a person. He glanced over and saw a dark head.
“Why are you up here?”
“I proposed to my girlfriend.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“She told me that she cheated on me, with my brother. She’s pregnant, with his baby. I got fired last week, my other brother just died in a car crash.”

“Okay, those are problems, real problems, but they're not ones you can’t face. Think of it as a clean slate, new opportunity for a career, new possibilities for a gal. Anything you want now you can have.”
“I’m alone, I had my brothers left, one is dead and the other betrayed me in the worst way.”

“What was her name?”

“Amy, her name was Amy. She was perfect, witty, smart, calm, composed, adventurous, and beautiful. Her eyes reflected my happiness. They were like the sea, something to get happily lost in, something with deep secrets hidden by beauty. I love her, I love her so much, she was my everything. My lying brother even introduced me to her. They were together behind my back for six months.”
“Get down; you have so much more to live for. Don’t you want a family? You can do great things. What did you do before you were fired?”
“I was a high school drama teacher.”
“Is that really what you wanted to do?”
“No I wanted to be a principal, run my own school, really help the children you know?”
“So do it, now’s your chance. Redefine yourself, don’t do this, please. What is your name?”
“I am Ron, what’s yours?”
“I’m Justin.”
“Why do you want to save me?”
“A life is a life.” Ron gently set his feet on the ground below. He calmly walked to his forest green Jeep, opening the front door. He lifted his hand in a thankful greeting. He turned to enter the car, pausing a moment, and asking one more question.
“How old are you?”
“Nineteen.” Justin turned and walked back the way he came, and Ron entered his car, they would part for now, not realizing their impact on one another.







“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” She turned and ran up the wooden stairs to her bedroom above. Her mother stood there no longer knowing what to do, or how to make it stop. She gave a heavy sigh as she began the climb to her daughter’s room. She knocked on the white wooden door opening it slightly and peering in. She had her face buried in her blue pillow, crying, letting her pain flow with her tears. She clutched the pillow tightly, staining it with her black mascara. She rocked back and forth, wanting the pain to end, thinking if she just tried harder to make up for what she did the threats and rumors would end, but they never did, and they probably never would.
“Oh, sweetheart” She sat on the edge of Isabelle’s single bed, the wooden frame groaning beneath Linda’s weight. She set her hand on her daughter’s back, scratching it in circles between her shoulder blades.
“It’s not fair.” She sobbed.
“What happened?”
“They were awful! I want to transfer! Why? Am I not good enough? What do I have to do to fit in to be normal?”
“Transferring again may not be the right answer. It’s okay you are the new girl, all new people face problems.”

“Mom I am halfway through the second semester! I am still at my old school I only left for a year, I came back and things got worse! I still have no friends and I am constantly tormented, every time I think I even have the slightest opportunity to make a friend it backfires and they hurt me!” She turned away, her blonde hair sprawled over her comforter. Her shoulders shook as she cried on and on.
Linda knew what to do. She gave her a kiss on the head and left the room, shutting the door behind her. She walked down the steps, pulling up her blonde hair as she began to work in the kitchen. She pulled open the heavy stainless steel freezer door and pulled out the ice cream. She set it on the granite counter and got the rest of the ingredients. She poured everything into the blender. She powered it on, drowning out Izzy’s sobs as the blades shredded through the ingredients. She poured the milkshake into a glass and stuck a neon straw into the thick, beaten ice cream. She made her trip upstairs again, holding the frosty glass in her hand, her wedding band clinking sharply against the glass as she walked to her daughter’s room. Izzy was fast asleep her blonde hair covering her brown eyes. She reached over and flicked Izzy’s alarm clock off. She quietly crept across the floor, the wood groaning beneath her. The room went dark behind her.







“You’ve done it! Praise the Lord you, you actually did! You created the cure!” He was bent over the microscope, his brown eyes carefully examining the cell. Tears rolled out of Rose’s green eyes and onto the lab table she was bent over.

“Rose you are incredible! You just saved mankind!” He spoke with a thick English accent. His spiked brown hair was hidden beneath his surgical cap. He looked over at Rose, his eyes gleaming with excitement. She squealed and jumped up in the air celebrating the victory.
“I cured cancer.” She whispered. She danced around the lab tables. She spun, her lab coat twirling around her. She stared at the white board that loomed above her, constantly denying any of her ideas with mathematical logic, but she did it. She beat what everyone and everything told her was impossible.






“Mom! Call the school I over slept I will be there soon! Why didn’t you wake me?” Izzy pulled her blonde hair into a pony and ran to pull her shoes on, her heart racing as she flung down the stairs and barreled towards the door.
“Go back to bed what are you doing up?” Linda said her hair in a messy bun, her pajama’s still on.
“What, it’s Thursday, the end of the week is always Friday.”
“You have the flu, remember?” Linda turned and headed back towards the master bedroom, the door clicking behind her. Izzy pulled of her converse and went back up to her room, rolling out of her bed nearly three hours later.







“Good morning, so I know they say laughter is the best medicine, but personally I believe it is shopping.” A small grin began to appear on Izzy’s unblemished face, spreading, she smiled in the funny way she did, the left side first followed by the right.
“Are you for real?”
“Absolutely!” Two hours later they had both showered and gotten ready. Izzy placed herself in the front seat, flicking her blonde curly hair out of her shirt collar. Linda sat in the driver seat and pulled the red door shut behind her. The engine started to life and they pulled out of their long driveway. Izzy watched as the trees rolled past her window, along with houses that had white picket fences and an occasionally sprinkler spraying droplets of water on the luscious grass below.
“You know I always wanted a convertible, I finally got one and I never took the top down, never.”
“Do it.”
“Maybe on the way back.”

The mall wasn’t nearly as busy as it usually was. The tiled halls remained mostly empty, maybe thirty people in each. They began on the bottom, making their way through stores. On occasion Izzy would point out something she liked and was forced to try it on, and later forced to buy it, though her mother was paying for the whole trip so it didn’t really matter that much anyway. They stopped to get smoothies when a new store caught Izzy’s eye.
“How okay are you with cartilage piercings?”
“Keep it small.” Her mother looked at her yearning brown eyes. Izzy bolted out of her chair and walked quickly to the store. Her mother followed right after her.
Ten minutes later Izzy sat on a high chair anxiously wringing her hands. A man with heavily tattooed arms came over and pulled open the drawer next to her. He brought out an alcohol swab and rubbed it against her nose. It was bitter, gross, an overly clean feeling, and it made tears prick the back of her eyes, it instantly brought her back to the hospital that night.
“Is it going to hurt?”
“The less you move the less it will hurt, I promise.” He flashed me a smile, his straight white teeth shining, sticking out against his red beard.
“Okay.” Izzy sighed. She grabbed her mother’s hand, squeezing it tightly for support. She was scared.
“Ready?” He grabbed the gold stud and loaded the gun. He set a hand on her shoulder, in a lame attempt of comforting her. He rolled his around, cracking his neck. She nodded.












Her golden stud glittered in the sun as she tilted her head back on the leather seat. The top was down on the car, blowing Izzy’s hair gently around her face. She took a deep breath in letting the smell of spring flow through her as she inhaled.
“Thank you, for this mom. It really helped.” She smiled and rolled her head off to the side, watching the trees that surrounded the highway fly by in a blur, letting the fresh green colors blend and become one.
“No problem sweetie.” She tilted her head to look at her daughter. They pulled up to their large house. Izzy ran ahead and pulled open the red door for her mother, whose arms were filled with shopping bags. Linda threw bags beneath the staircase. They each picked their way through the pile, grabbing what was theirs from the brightly colored paper boutique bags. Linda grabbed her few bags and made her way across the kitchen and to her large bedroom. She tossed her bags onto the grey bedspread, along with herself. She pulled her hair up and pulled of her navy blazer. She kicked off her black flats and set them in her closet door beneath her weekend clothes.

Izzy climbed up the wooden steps and down the hallway to her dark room. She flicked the light on and set her bags on the dark hardwood floors beneath her. She pulled open her French closet doors and hung her new clothes on her plastic colorful hangers.
“Sweetie, take your pills.” Izzy rolled her chocolate brown eyes. She took the same pill every day since she was five, yet her mother constantly reminded her to swallow those revolting blue tablets. She reached for the orange bottle on her night stand; her arm bumped the silver body of her lamp, causing it to sway. She twisted the white cap, the rivets on the lid digging painfully into her palm. She curled her pink painted toes into her white rug as she choked down the pill.

She sat on the edge of her white bed, playing with a blue string on the blanket at the foot of the bed. Her mind soared to new places as she read her favorite book, possibly for the twelfth, leaving the rest of the world behind.








“And here we have Rose Taylor. She has recently developed an injection, to slow and eventually stop cancer. She, folks is the one who cured cancer of all kinds.”
“Thanks, but I couldn’t have done it without the help of my father.” Her red lips moved as she carefully mouthed the words near the microphone.

“He motivated me to do the best I can, my mother died when I was seventeen. She was drinking after her sister was diagnosed with cancer, her decisions her impaired and she got behind the wheel, and crashed. Ever since that night it has been my father and I, alone. He tried to find new love but his heart couldn’t handle it, so he gave up, and it was just he and I. He is my hero. He never quit or gave in. I am sure there are times when he wanted to, but he never did. Thank you.”
The bright flashes of the cameras reflected off her face, lighting it up and making it look a pasty white. She moved away from the microphone, her heels clicking on the hardwood of the stage, and a man replaced her space.

“I am the incredible father who has an incredible daughter. I am so proud of her. There were nights when she would come home crying, saying it was no use, threatening to give up. She spent hours in the labs. She would smell like chemicals and there would be bags under her eyes. I am so honored to be there the entire way, through the tears, the sorrow, the hopes, the failures, the expensive tuition,” the crowd below chuckled, “But the point of the story is never give in to the temptation of quitting. A long time ago I almost did, and without the help of someone, I would have, and Rose wouldn’t be here. I don’t know where he is, but thank you, for not letting me quit. Thank you for teaching me how to be there for my daughter. Wherever you are, you are my hero, and I am my daughter’s.”












“Sweetheart, I have a doctor’s appointment after work today, you’re going to have to take the bus, your car is still in the shop, the painting is almost done, and it just took a little longer to replace the windshield than expected.”
“Okay.” Izzy said as she stared at her colorful fruity pebbles in the bowl on the granite counter beneath her.
“You okay?” Linda looked at her.
“Yeah, just worried that’s all.”
“Sweetie, worrying isn’t good for you, do you need to go get another prescription, is it getting bad again?” Her green eyes searched her daughter’s face, longing to understand.
“No mom, just normal teenage stuff is what I’m worrying about okay, no need to worry.” Izzy’s pink lips curled up in a little smile.
“Okay well I am going to be late.” She ruffled Izzy’s hair and kissed her on the head, walking away, her heels clicking all the way to her red sports car.










“Who did this?” Tears swelled in the corners of her blue eyes. People all around her stared, and each one of them had smirks on their little faces, twisting them up in an unattractive fashion.
“This is cruel.” A brunette girl broke through the crowd, Spencer. She looked at the clothes that were dumped into the porcelain toilet. She grabbed Izzy’s wrist and led her to her locker.
“Here I have these they might not fit right, you’re a little taller and thinner than I, but they are better than the ones someone threw in the lou.
“You’re the foreign exchange student aren’t you?”
“What gave it away, my accent or the way I refer to the toilet?”
“Both and you’re actually talking to me, I haven’t had a conversation with someone in this school, except the teachers, and the councilor.”
“Those people were cruel, why would someone do that to you?” Izzy shifted uncomfortably, still in the white towel. Her blond hair was twisted in a bun on top of her head, which dripped water onto her toned shoulders. She shifted her blue eyes to the wet tile. She wiggled her toes and splashed them in the puddles under her. She sat on the lightwood colored bench, leaning forward a little.
“I got the best baseball player kicked off the team freshman year. I went from being the most popular and envied girl to the most hated. Then someone really wanted to get to me and leaked my medical records over every social networking site possible, yes even MySpace. They also made them their own profile on Match.com, along with my therapist’s notes, everything from my father’s death to my extreme anxiety disorder, not leaving anything out, including everything that triggers my anxiety, storms, being naked in public.” She motioned to her clothes in the toilet and the white towel wrapped around her.
“I’m really sorry, and really surprised you told me,” her accent thick as she spoke.
“Trust me you were gonna hear about it eventually, I would have rather you heard the real story instead of the whispers and the rumors.”
“Why was he removed, from the team?”
“We dated for a really long time, and then he got violent because he was hopped up on steroids, so I broke up with him, and told the guidance counselor. He was in some real trouble. People started asking who ratted him out, everyone suspected me.”
“Well it was you.”
“Yeah but I never told anybody. They needed to win the championship to receive an extreme amount of money to save the baseball team. Without Mike they lost, badly. Tons of baseball players relocated, leaving a large amount of the school in ruins. Anyway thanks for the clothes, and for actually talking to me, be warned when you get home there may be eggs and toilet paper littered on your front lawn.”
“I could probably handle it, maybe not the family I’m staying with though.” Izzy pulled on the jeans and the rest of the clothes, and then pulled her blonde hair in a high pony, the water dripped off her hair and down her back, sending her shivers as the droplets ran over her spine. She ignored them and moved on, pulling open the locker room door and heading to her locker. She yanked open her locker door, the minute the door opened, several dead and gutted rats fell to the ground. She ignored them, used to the pranks and grabbed her books.






“I am so sorry, but your test results came back positive. I’m afraid you have terminal cancer. It began on your spine and spread throughout your body. I am truly sorry it will kill you, it is the worst in your lungs, they will probably stop working, leaving you without breath, suffocating. I give you six months to a year.”
“Is there no way to stop this, what about chemo?”
“I’m sorry but, that won’t help you at this stage. I am sorry, but I would get you affairs in order. You are a great person who has done great things, but no good deed goes unpunished.” She sat there her head in her hands, her blonde hair poking out through her slim fingers. Her shoulders heaved and her tears, black with mascara, ran off her hands and fell to the ground, making splotches on the white tile floor.
“Thank you; I will inform my colleagues and daughter.” She turned to leave the room; she set her manicured hand on the doorway and turned.
“Don’t mourn me, I’m not dead yet Doctor, I have no idea what karma might throw my way.” She turned her heels echoing throughout the halls. She discretely wiped a tear from her green eyes.







Spencer was right; they jeans were short and loose at the hips, so when she curled them beneath her on the bus seat the dark jeans rose high above her ankles. The blazer sleeves rose mid-forearm when she brought her arms any higher than down at her waist. It didn’t bother her though; she was a 4.0 student who never raised her hand. Her arms always stayed at her sides, where she would never come in contact with anyone in the halls. She had on her simple leather flats, but they were on the muddy bus floor. She wiggled her toes, which were going numb from the weight of her body. She twisted her blonde hair up and stuck a pencil in it to keep it up and out of her face. She stared at her history book, then back at her notebook. Her face twisted up in confusion. She quickly moved to the side as a boy’s glob of spit sailed at her. She looked over her notebook.

“You may need to be a bit quicker if you actually want to hit me next time.” Her eyes went back to the notebook, ignoring the glob of frothy spit that rolled down the metal emergency door. He mumbled a harsh word under his breath and turned towards the front of the bus. It stopped in front of the gate, where they were buzzed in. Izzy grabbed her bag and pulled the straps over her muscular shoulders and stood up. The bus slowed and eventually came to a stop next to her house. As she walked by the boy who attempted to spit on her she jut her elbow out and nailed the boy in the check, managing to hit him beneath the eye next to the fragile part of his nose, and on his high cheek bone.

“Ow, what is your problem you little rat?” He stood up and ran a meaty hand through his long dark brown hair.

“Sorry it was a complete accident. Just like your loogie.” She turned, her wavy pony whipping in an arc behind her.







“How are we supposed to run this company without you? It was your trust-fund that started this company, you were the one who invested that money and continues to invest, do you have any idea how many lives you change. You give people a job doing what they love. You made doing charity work a job, and not a minimum wage job, a nice job. You take what you need, you give what you can to you employees, you accept volunteers and donations, you take care of our investments, I really don’t think this company can run without you.”
“Look Cindy, you are my best friend. I have no idea how I am supposed to tell Isabelle.”
“They have a cure.” Cindy turned her head, letting the tears slide down her cheeks, the sun shone down onto her dark hair, making it look red.
“That costs more than this company has ever made or received in donations.”
“It only costs a couple hundred thousand.” Her voiced cracked; she took in a deep breath trying to force the pain away.
“Seven-hundred sixty-eight thousand dollars and sixteen cents, with my extreme amount of tumors.”
“Jeez, why not make it an arm and a leg?”
“Because then it’s actually affordable.”
“I am so sorry.” Cindy leaned over and hugged her friend. She set her hand on Linda’s blonde hair and looked her in the eyes, which were filling with tears.
“It isn’t death I fear, it is leaving Isabelle.”

“I will watch her.” Cindy nodded, pulling Linda close, holding her tightly, afraid she might slip away if Cindy let go.

“I know, but it isn’t fair, leaving you with that responsibility, she is a lot of work.”

“She could transfer.”

“She already has, but nothing on the internet can really be deleted, her medical records are everywhere, and the fact that many people hate her because the school’s baseball program was shut down due to her. I don’t blame her, her boyfriend was scaring her, she needed to tell someone why. She had no idea what would happen.”

“But it did seem a little selfish.”

“Cindy, she didn’t know she was scared. She told the counselor and he got kicked off the team. They lost the championship, they baseball team could no longer be afforded. It wasn’t her fault. Anyway I have to get home, tell her. Thank you for listening.

“Any time.” The cement she sat upon was spotted with her tears.








“No! There had to be a mistake! It isn’t possible! It can’t happen to you! MOM!” Her face was bright red, from tears and anger and frustration. She ran to her room, slammed the door and threw her body onto the bed. Salty tears streamed like a river from her eyes and down her face into the corner of her pink lips. She rolled over and stared at the ceiling. A long time ago she had pinned a picture of Orlando Bloom above her bed. She gasped for air, she gasped for relief of the pain. Her phone buzzed. She leaned over her bed to look at the screen. Saw your mom crying today, hope it hurts you, you deserve it rat. If only they knew. If only they knew the extra pain the torment added, the extra weight it added to her soul. Linda already had a milkshake ready. She set it outside the door and gave a single knock, then walked back down the steps. She heard the door creak open and then close quietly. She gave a small grin as she sat down on the couch and fell asleep to murder movie.

When Izzy woke the next morning she was alone. She preferred it that way it was easier to take hard news alone, deal with it, prepare for it, become used to it, settle with it alone. Then when she became comfortable with it she would talk and act as if she was open with the situation the whole time. That’s what she did with the bullying that’s what she did with her father, and that is what she would do with her mother.








Izzy’s high-heeled boots clicked on the pavement, her skirt barely brushed her knees as she walked, her books tucked into her body with her arm wrapped around it. She rolled her shoulder up, readjusting her. She pulled her head up as she recognized her worst nightmare barreling toward her. The red car parked next to her on the curb. The one person she really didn’t want to see sat there in front of her in a rusty pickup.

“We should talk.”

“You should leave.”

“I am so sorry, I never encouraged any of the things that happened to you.”

“Yeah well the torment started long before I turned you in.”

“Can you just tell me what I did wrong?!”

“Mike, please just leave.” She had to choke down the lump in her throat to keep from crying.

“Just tell me what I did.”

“Just leave me alone I’m not in the mood.”

“Why are you acting like this!” He shouted at her.

“Why am I acting like this?!”

“I deserve to know what I did!”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you!” She began to stomp away. The truck began to slowly drive next to her, the window down. He shook his head, flipping his dark brown hair.

“I am sorry whatever I did I apologize.”

“You were a danger to yourself and everyone around you. You were hurting yourself, but you were dragging everyone down with you. It was selfish, you were being selfish and self-absorbed.”

“How was I being selfish!?” He responded, his face was bright red, his grip was tight on the wheel, his knuckles were white as held tightly onto it.

“I had asked you to stop. All you ever did was talk about how sorry you felt for yourself, and if you weren’t complaining you were mean and violent!”

“I tried!”

“Get over yourself, you barley lost sleep over it!”

“Don’t act like you’re an angel either!”

“I am not all I am saying is that I was doing what was best for you and for me. I asked you to leave and you stayed you never left me alone. You constantly texted me, yelling at me making me feel guilty for leaving you when you deserved it!”

“What?”

“When I left you my phone was filled with messages from you ‘I am sorry’, ‘what did I do’, ‘please forgive me’ you sent me fifty straight messages of annoyance!”

“I never really got an answer.”

“Michael just leave.” Tears pushed at the back of her eyes. She couldn’t take it anymore. She usually would go to her mother and talk to her about this, but she began to realize that Linda wouldn’t be there for her eventually.

“You called me Michael.” He knew that with just that one word there was hope, maybe not for a relationship, but at least forgiveness. He faced the road ahead of him, staring at the birds soar through the blue sky escaping their problems, leaving them far below. When he looked back Izzy was on the ground, her head in her hands, her shoulder’s shaking. He knew she would never mourn over him like that, this was something else, something else entirely. He stepped out of the truck and onto the sidewalk. He knelt next to her, one knee dug painfully into the pavement from the hole on his knee. He wrapped his tan arms around her shoulders. She rested her head on his toned chest, crying. It was so painful. Everything that showed a little difficulty made her want to cry, she couldn’t handle it, not anymore. He held her as she cried. His hand was entwined with her hair.

“I’ll drive you home.” He whispered to her.






When Mike opened the door of his truck and led her up the walkway he didn’t know what would happen, if he would be invited in for a drink, if her mother would yell at him, if she would cry again but he never expected this.

“Mrs. Acevado!” He ran to her. Her body was limp on the ground.

“Mom!” She ran to her mother and knelt beside her. Mike grabbed his phone and punched in those three numbers that have a tendency to change people’s lives, and usually not for the better.

The wailing of the sirens approached the house but she wouldn’t move. She held her mother’s hand rocking back and forth, Mike knelt behind her his hands had a firm hold on her shoulders, letting her know she wasn’t alone.

She stood and opened the door as two men and a woman raced towards the house with a gurney.

“Ma’am please step back, we have the situation under control.” The woman’s voice has hoarse and harsh, as though she spent too long yelling at children.


“Does your mother have any health conditions?” A large man said as he bent over Linda and attached an IV to her arm.

“Cancer.” Izzy barely managed to choke out between her heaves.

“What kind or where specifically?”

“Um…it started in her spine and spread throughout her body.”

“Get her in the car.” The woman shouted, maybe that was why her voice was so scratchy. She tried to move with them and keep up but her legs were like jello, unwilling to move, wobbly and unstable.

Mike scooped her up and carried her to the truck. He set her down as gently as possible on the seat, as though she was a fine china doll. They followed the ambulance as best as they could, stopping for red lights on occasion but mostly just zoomed past them. He parked the truck as close as he could to the hospital. The building loomed over them, taunting her, making her feel small.

Izzy rushed into the lobby, pushing past people young and old to reach the front desk.

“Where is my mother?”

“What is her name?”

“Linda Acevado.”

“Room 214.”

“Thank you.” Izzy ran towards the door, she motioned for Mike to follow as she pulled open the heavy wood. The numbers danced passed her, she glanced at them momentarily. Part of her wanted to find the room, hug her mother, see her face again, but the other part was terrified, scared to death of what she might see, or what she might not see if it was too late.

There they were, the dreaded numbers, the numbers of the room that had seen joy and sorrow. Mike grabbed her hand, entwining their fingers.

“I will be here for you. You may want some other shoulder to cry on, but I am here.” She entered. Her mother lay there with so many tubes and wires protruding from her body. At that moment the only sound in the room was the steady beeping of the heart monitor. A nurse came in and grabbed the chart at the foot of Linda’s bed.

“Okay, there was some fluid in her lungs preventing any breathing, also the tumor on her spine caused temporary paralysis. She will be okay, just need to have her lung fluid cleared here and there and she should gain full range of motion after a few days. She… well I believe she may need surgery.” His brown eyes bore into her soul, crushing it with all the force they had.
Her mother wasn’t dead, but that meant pain, so much pain for the both of them. She had only passed out from lack of oxygen, nothing too serious that happens to plenty of people.

“Thank you Mike.”

“I know that this doesn’t mean we are back together, but it sure does mean you can talk to me, since I am assuming I am the only one who knows.”

“Yeah you are, as well as her best friend Cindy. She was supposed to tell everyone at her work on Monday, but from the looks of it, she won’t be going in.” He wrapped his arms around her thin body, now growing smaller with the stress of her mother’s illness.








“I began with extensive research of specific kinds of cancer cells, finding similarities. My goal was to create on vaccination to solve the cancer problem entirely. Tumors are just over achieving cells, they reproduce rapidly. My job was to discover how to reverse the growth, to find a way to kill the cells.” Rose said into the microphone.

“What inspired you to do this?” The women asked.

“My aunt died of cancer.”

“Do you expect to be learned about in history books?”

“I am sure my name will be mentioned somewhere in the pages of a history book, but nothing large, just a quick mention or a few words, nothing spectacular, but that is okay, that wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted healing within this world.”

“Is it available in other countries.”

“It is currently being shipped to countries worldwide.”

“And it is just a simple vaccination?”

“Yes, just one and your cancer should be gone within several weeks.”

“Wow, you are the savior. You helped us beat one of the most painful and deadly pandemics we have ever seen. For that we are thankful and forever indebted to you Rose Taylor.”








When her eyes flickered open Izzy was there. Holding her hand staring anxiously at the sheets.

“Morning, how was your night?”

“Mom? You’re awake your okay?”

“Yes. Why can’t I feel my legs? Izzy! Iz! I can’t feel my legs!”

“Mom you are suffering from temporary paralysis.”

“What?”

“You won’t be able to move your legs. Two days ago they said it would take four days for feeling to return back to complete normalcy.”

“I have to inspect one of our branches in six days, I have to be there. I have to be okay.”

“Mom I don’t think that is a good idea.”

“Do not patronize me.” Her voice turned to stone within an instant, refusing to let her own daughter sympathize her. She leaned over the bed and heaved into the bucket beside her bed. Her stomach muscles tightened as the bile rose in her throat, and poured from her mouth and nose. The vomit smelled like a sweet and sour substance. Linda coughed clearing the rest from her mouth.

“Hand me that napkin would you please.” Linda begged, her head still hung over the bed. Izzy reached and grabbed a roll of paper towel that was placed on the bedside table. She reached out and handed her mother the clean fabric that she used to wipe her mouth and blow her nose. Izzy stretched out her hand to place it on her mother’s back.

“Don’t, if you are going to look at me like that you need to leave. I cannot stand the fact that I am your mother and you need to be there to support me. Wipe that look off your face or leave the room this instant. I just I…I…,” Izzy stood and exited the room, her shoulders shook as she quickly walked to the hall. “I just love you, and don’t want you to see me like this.” She whispered, even though she knew Isabelle couldn’t hear her.








Linda was using her daughter as a human crutch as she willed her aching body to climb the stairs in front of her house. Her legs pulled her up as she longed to finally reach the front door.

“I am still a little bit unsteady, but I am getting the hang of it.”

“Yeah, okay Mom.” Izzy rolled her eyes sarcastically.

“Hey, I could be doing a whole lot worse.

“Okay, that is a good point.” Her daughter pushed open the red front door and helped her mother in. She guided her mother to the gray couch in the living room.

“Here are your meds.” She shook the little orange bottle. The pills tossed around and rattle inside.

“Also here is the remote and I have to bottles of water for you, I have a free period around twelve, I will stop by then and see you okay.”

“Okay.”

“Oh here is your robe, blanket, and I set two extra pillows here.” She motioned to the throw pillows, robe, and blanket on the ground.











“Have you had the water checked, it is well water I want to make sure it is okay?”

“Yes Mrs. Acevada, just last month.”

“Please, just call me Linda. You have had the homeless section inspected every day after it is cleaned by the volunteers?”

“You betcha.” Becky said. Linda paced around the cubicles, she watched the people typing away. Some typed ads, others did math, and some created blueprints. She went to the hall in the front and to the homeless shelter. She pushed the door open and stepped inside.

“It smells rank.” She wrinkled her nose in disapproval.

“Oh, that is just…”

“What you call appropriate living establishments.”

“Do you actually check after it is cleaned? Tell me the truth and you shall be forgiven, but if you lie to me yet again, I will have removed from the head of this charity branch, do you understand me?”

“I do not inspect after the cleaning is done, Mrs. Acevado.”

“Shame, these are people. You have an option, serve penance or be fired and I will have your name all over the internet, and not in a good way, insuring you never have a job again, is this understood?”

“Penance, ma’am.”

“This is your home for the next month, you will eat what they eat you will sleep where they sleep, you will not have anything from the vending machines at work. You will sleep and work here. You will have a folding chair instead of the plush leather on you sit upon as you watch your kingdom rot beneath you.”

“Okay.” She said, barely above a whisper.

“Do you think this is an appropriate punishment?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you, I was just seeing if you would agree with me, the only thing you will have to do is watch the cleaning staff and fire the slackers, cool?”

“Yes Mrs. Acevado.” Her brown hair fell in her face from her vigorous nodding.

“Of course. Have you been keeping track of the donations and where they have been sent?”

“Of course.”

“And how many houses has your branch built this month?”

“Six in Haiti. Twelve within the city, and around fifty throughout Africa.”

“Education?”

“We have provided over three-hundred children and adults with private tutors within the past eight months.”

“You have the paper work.”

“Yes would you like copies?”

“That would be great. Thanks.” They stepped out of the dark room and back into the hall, then to the offices. She listened to the hum of the machine as the papers were copied within. She watched, her green eyes grazing over the people. They worked busily like spiders working hard to tie their webs.

“Hello.” A man with a light blue shirt and short cut brown hair stepped in front of her and grabbed her hand, shaking it in a greeting. He had a cup of coffee in his hand and a stack of papers under his arm.

“Who might you be madam?”

“Linda, Linda Acevado.”

“You my friend, are a true inspiration. What you have done is truly powerful. I am so honored to be in your presence.”

“What is your name.”

“John Bell ma’am.”

“How long have you been working here John?”

“About a year and a half now. What are you doing here?”

“I am trying to find a new leader to take over my position, just don’t tell anyone okay.”

“Why would you give up your position?”

“I have terminal cancer. No one knows.”

“Oh, I am so sorry.” He played with his light green tie with his free hand. He brought his coffee mug up to his lips and took a sip of the hot liquid, dribbling a little from his shaky hand.

“You nervous?”

“Nah.”

“You’re curious?”

“So curious.” His knees buckled beneath him a little, before he straightened himself out again.

“About what specifically?”

“Why doesn’t anyone know?”

“I hate sympathy, almost as much as I hate selfish people who aren’t willing to give.”

“Wow. How did you start the company?”

“I have always wanted to help people. I had a large trust-fund, I invested most of it in stocks, made enough money to build a few schools and get a few commercials, now here I am. I wanted to make a difference that’s all.

“Wow.” His mouth was slightly open; he stared at her in awe.

“Looks like your boss is staring at you.” She nodded in the direction of Becky.

“Anyway, I better get back to work. It was an honor meeting you.” He kissed her hand as he turned on his heel and walked away from her and back to his cubicle. Becky came back with a stack of freshly copied papers that were still warm to the touch.

“Can I please have John Bells stats?”

“Would you like a copy?”

“No, I will mail them back to you.”

“Well then I will be right back.”








“Mike, I swear to God, I heard something.” She whispered into the phone.

“I am sure it was nothing.” He said on the other end of the line.


There was a shatter and the window crumbled. The glass rained down onto her. A hard object hit her in the back of the head, causing warm blood to ooze out the gash and run down her neck, trailing down her shirt and slowly along her spine.

“Ah!” She fell to the ground, her hands dug into the sharp jagged edges of the broken shards. The phone lay next to her bloody hands. Her eyes slowly fluttered shut. The alarms screamed around her, a painful, high-pitched squealing echoed in her ears.

“Isabelle?” Mike screamed on the other end of the line, he longed for a reply.

He threw his body against the door, it refused to budge.

“Isabelle? Iz!! Izzy!? Please!” He pounded his fist against the wood. He leaped off the porch, over the side railing and around to the side of the house. There he saw the broken window. He put his hands on the sill and pulled himself up, the glass pushed through the skin on his palms, breaking it and making them bleed. He jumped through the window, a chunk of glass caught him and tore through the skin on his shoulder, the blood ran down his arm and dripped off his fingertips. Several large rocks were scattered on the wooden floor. One of them had a large amount of blood on them. She was standing right there. They had meant to hit her, the wanted her to hurt.

He scooped up her small body, the fragments of broken glass that were stuck to her shirt and jeans now dug into his arms. He lay he down on the couch. He gently shook her in attempt to wake her.

“What is your security pass code.” He had to scream over the alarm.

“Izzy!”

“It never changed.” If he hadn’t placed his head next to her on the couch he never would have heard her. He ran to the front door and flipped open the lid of the security box. He punched in the numbers and letters, SkAbCaBuPeKoDr, he muttered them as he stabbed his thumb against the buttons. Silence. The squeal was cut off immediately. He left bloody thumbprints on the buttons, from the large slice on his shoulder, the blood ran over his arm and onto his hands, which violently shook.

He twisted the knob of the front door and pushed it open, he ran to the living room a picked up Isabelle’s body. Her head hung back over his forearm and bobbed as he ran down the steps and to his truck.

“Hey you’re okay, you will be fine.” He said, her blood ran down his arm. Her eyelids fluttered. She groaned slightly as she curled her head into his body. He set her into the bench seat. He turned the key in the ignition, the truck roared to life

He drove to the hospital as fast as he could. The whole left side of his body was covered in warm sticky blood. His hands slipped on the steering wheel from the wet blood on his palms. He slammed on the brakes as a car pulled out in front of him. He slammed his fist into the horn, his lance burned as sweat and dirt filled within them, and dug its way under his skin. She groaned in the back, mumbling nonsense.

He craned his head to see her in the back. The whole seat was bright red. Her whole shirt was stained red. There was an incision going from the right side of her collarbone sand disappeared somewhere under her shirt. There was a large slice in her arm just above the elbow. The lights of the hospital shone brightly in front of them. He raced there as quickly as he could. He parked near the front he pushed open the heavy rusted door. He bolted to the back of his pickup and pulled it open. He hoisted her body out of the back and ran across the parking lot, he held her head against his chest.

“Please help!” He shouted.

“What happened?” A nurse looked him over and she motioned for several others to bring a gurney.

“We were attacked.”

“By what a mountain lion?”

“A rock and a window.” He said as he set her down on the rolling cot.

“Oh…ok.” They began to roll her away. He followed at her heels.

“Sir, you need be checked out and get stitches.”

“I have to stay with her.”

“Sir, you need stitches.”

“I need to stay with her, she is home alone for the weekend, she called me when she heard a voice outside. I heard a crash.”

“Have you contacted her parents?”

“I don’t know her mother’s number.”

“Father’s?”

“He passed away she was young.”

“You may the same room, I know that violated policy, just don’t let people know I broke the rules okay?”

“Okay.” He followed her through the doors and into a private room.

“This will probably hurt.” She poured alcohol over his arm and shoulder.

“Ah!” He shouted as the liquid was poured over his wounds, burning, and searing him.








He kissed her hand as she lay there, quiet and peaceful. She had a bandage wrapped around her head along with one around her chest. You could see it, just on her shoulder since the gown was so large.

“I never stopped loving you.” He whispered as he brushed her hair off her face, gently trying to avoid waking her, or hurting her. She had several cuts on her face. There was still some dried blood on her lip.

“Hey.” She whispered.

“Shh.” His tear fell onto her forearm. He held onto her tightly, scared to let go and rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand.

“Thank you.” Her eye lids fell again. Her head fell to the side a little. Her mother came in at that moment. Mike put his finger to his lips. His one arm was in a sling. He looked rough, but not nearly as bad as Izzy.

“She has a severe concussion. She will be drifting in and out of sleep for a while.”

“Thank you Mike.” She wrapped her arm around him. Her hand resting on his good shoulder.

“Of course.”

“I am not done yet.” She motioned for him to follow her out into the hall.

“I am grateful for what you did, but I will never forgive you for what you did. She never filled me in on the entire situation, but she was scared of you, and for that I don’t trust you.”

“I have always loved your daughter. Last year was not me.”

“Too bad that’s the only you my daughter knows.”

“Please.”

“You may see each other, but not romantically. She needs a friend, start with that okay.”

“Okay.”

“You can leave, come back tomorrow okay.”

“Okay.” He walked down the sterile halls and into the busy streets outside. He pulled his hood up and faded into the crowds.








“Iz?”

“Yeah sweetie?”

“What happened?”

“Well someone threw several rocks through our window, they hit you on purpose. The police are looking for prints on the rock, at the very least they will be paying yours and Mike’s medical bills.

“Mike?”

“Yes he was quite the hero. You called him?”

“Yeah I heard voices outside, I didn’t know who else to call.”

“Me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you that’s all.”

“Sweetheart, you should have called me. I had no idea what was happening until three hours after it happened.”

“What did Mike do?”

“Don’t you dare.”

“What?”

“Look like that, or feel that way.”

“Mom.”

“No, it’s okay, I will let you see him, preferably not romantically.”

“I just want to make things right with him.”

“He should be making things right with you. He was at fault.” She was shaking, from the sickness and the adrenaline.








“Izzy?”

“Yeah.” She looked up from her book and saw her mother’s face. The hospital lights emphasized the lines that were beginning on her face.

“It was… it was Veronica who threw it through the window.”

“What…no. She wouldn’t do that. She was mad at me after I dated Mike, but not this mad. No.”

“Honey, Mike is toxic. Problems began with him. I don’t think you should see him I am sorry I know I just told you it was okay, but looking back, I’m just not comfortable with it.”

“Mom!”

“No.”

“How did they know it was her?”
“Her prints were all over the rock. After…after I pass, I have asked Cindy to relocate. It is a lot to ask for her to take care of you and now I am asking her to move. I don’t think you should have any contact with any of these people after I am gone. Erase these past years and start over.”
“Okay. I agree.”
“Good you are moving to Alabama.”
“That is a bit too far if you ask me.” Irritation was laced in her words as she said them.

“Honey, I am asking, as my dying wish, please just do this for yourself.” Izzy bent her head; her hair formed a blonde curtain around her face.

“I love you.” She sobbed she held tightly to her mother, wrapping her arms around her, afraid to let go.









“Hello ma’am. I am Rose Taylor, and I would like to cure your cancer for free.” She stood in the doorway, her thin frame painted a thin black shadow across the office floor.

“What?” Linda raised her eyebrows, disbelieving what she had just heard, unbelieving that there was a way out.

“You run a huge charity that has helped thousands. I would like to help you, you will receive all the injections you need to cure yourself, usually you only need one though.”

“You promise. This isn’t a sick joke.” Linda’s voice began to crack, she stood up, smoothing her navy pencil skirt, then her hair. She took a deep shuddering breath, preparing herself for what was about to happen.

“I swear, here I have the needle now.” Tears rolled down Linda’s pale cheeks, and down Rose’s even paler ones. Linda rolled up her sleeve and prepared for the small pin prick. Rose popped open the case, it resembled a sunglasses case. She snapped it shut and rolled on purple latex gloves. It hurt. It was a searing heat that roared through her veins. She gasped in pain. She closed her emerald eyes tightly.

“Okay, all done.” Rose stood and left Linda clutching her shoulder in immense pain.

“You are my hero, you encouraged me to help people and to do great things. The world would be a far worse place without you. You haven’t just temporarily help people, you gave them the resources they needed to help themselves, that is something great. You are something great. What kind of person would I be if I just let you die, even after everything you have done. It would be like me lighting the match to burn Mother Theresa. You are great, far greater than anyone gives you credit for, and though sometimes death must come before you receive your very deserving recognition, I would rather your recognition come later. ” Rose said as she turned and walked down the hall. Her fiery red hair bounced behind her as she strode down the halls of the charity company.









“I have no idea how Rose did it, but you are okay. Your cancer is completely diminished.” He shook his tired gray head.

“I know Doc, amazing isn’t it?” She stood and made her way to the car, prepared to tell her daughter the spectacular news.







She opened the front door to find her daughter on the couch tears on her cheeks.

“Mom watch.”

“Sweetie, I am cured, they cured me.” Her daughter smiled, her eyes shone so brightly as she hugged her mother. The TV droned at over the sound of Izzy’s heavy sobs. They sat they for awhile. The TV remained paused as they held on to each other, clinging to each other with desperation. Ten minutes later they both gained composure they turned to the TV.

“What am I watching?”

“They found Mr. Taylor’s mysterious savior.” She clicked the volume up and watched the movements of the people on the TV.

“A long time ago, I was on a bridge, thirty-two years to be exact. My girlfriend of four years cheated on me with my brother. Then my other brother died in an accident, along with my wife a few years later, along with another man who passed because she was behind the wheel, but this man, Justin saved me, and here he is.” He came out and sat on the couch ready to tell his part of the story.

“I saw a man who was troubled, who was in danger and about to do something stupid. I told him to stop, told him what he had to live for. Unfortunately he did jump, I was unable to save Ron , his daughter Rose was never born, she never cured cancer, Linda died, her company shut down no longer able to help people, and her daughter unable to cope with the loss of her mother and the bullying committed suicide, because forty-eight years ago, my mother aborted me.”











“I just don’t know what to do!” She sat on the couch, a worker nodded at her intently, offering all the help she could.

“Do you know the father?”

“I…I…yes, but he is selfish, he wouldn’t help, he wouldn’t care, he’d just run.

“Maybe not.”

“I’m not the first one to have, or not have his baby, depending I guess.

“And?”

“I probably won’t be the last.”

“Oh, well it is your choice, your life, but remember, it’s the baby’s life too. Most people don’t get that.”

“No, I do that is what’s making this decision impossible.”

“I have strict parents, they wouldn’t pay for my college if they found out, and would still force me to get rid of it.”

“Okay. You’ll be okay, whatever choice you make. Good luck.”

“Thank you.” She sniffled, got up and walked across the street, two minutes early for the appointment that was already scheduled, just in case.
















He sat there and looked down at his pocket. He pulled out the velvet box, watching the rings diamond sparkle in the little light there was. He placed it back in the slit in the box, and let himself fall. At first it was terrifying, utterly horrific, but the second he realized that the pain would be over, it became beautiful. His hair stood up from his head and his hearted raced, beating against ribcage. He fell, and fell and fell, then hit the water with agonizing force, but at least for him it was over.














“Ah!” She clutched her chest. She couldn’t breathe. Her body need the oxygen, but it wouldn’t get it. She fell to her knees at the top of the stairs, taking desperate gasps for air. Now she leaned forward on her elbows, hardwood floor bit sharply at her elbows, but she didn’t care, she wanted air. She gasped. Tears fell from her eyes and onto the dark hardwood floor. She gagged and coughed. There was a harsh feeling in her chest. She fell onto her stomach, her head was turned sideways, making the neat French twist fall from her hair. Her eyelids drooped, making the ground fuzzy, then it went black, and it was over.

















After Linda’s funeral Izzy walked up the steps and into the bathroom. She pulled off her black dress, letting it fall to the floor. She leaned over the bathtub and ran the hot water, sitting on the toilet and breathing in the steam.

“Knock knock Hun, we are going to see your grandfather in a few hours for a surprise visit, I’m sure he could use it!”

“Okay Aunt Cindy, just taking a bath.” The mirror fogged up from the heat and steam in the bathroom. She went over and drew a large heart on it, and within it she drew the word mom. She quickly wrote a thank you Aunt Cindy, I am sorry, and opened the medicine cabinet. She opened the orange bottle just like she did every other day. She stared at the handful of white capsules. She lifted her head up and stared at her reflection. Her blonde hair cascaded over her bare shoulders. Her eyes were full of pain that would never leave her in this lifetime. She stared at them, then threw four into her mouth, swallowed, then four more, then the last two. She got into the tub and submerged herself in the water. She let herself fall gently asleep, and never wake up. Her blonde hair floated around her in the tub like a halo. Floating and moving, bending with the waves her body caused, until she stopped moving, stopped breathing, but a long time ago she stopped trying.