Why was life unfair?
I still remember it like it was yesterday. It was a winter night on the day of my 9th birthday.
My mother knelt before me, her warm hands cupping my face. "Your father and I will be back before you know it, sweetheart. Remember, we will love you always, no matter what." Her smile was soft, but tinged with sadness. Her long black hair fell down her shoulder, shimmering slightly.
I watched as she turned around and walked out the door along with my father, their figures disappearing into the cold night.
I waited. Hours passed, and the excitement of my birthday melted into worry, then dread. I cried myself to sleep that night, hoping they would come home again.
The following days were a blur of tears. My house, once full of warmth and happiness, was now filled with silence. I blamed myself for countless days. If only I could've gone with them.
All I was left with was a modest sum of money that would last me a few years and the house we lived in. Reality was cold, and I knew that this money wouldn't last forever. I had to survive, somehow.
So, I studied.
I poured my heart and soul into books. Even if I wasn't as naturally gifted as the other kids, I believed my hard work would make up for it. If I got a scholarship, money would be less of a problem.
I truly believed my efforts would never betray me.
Surely, God would reward my determination, right?
Wrong.
I was diagnosed with a disease that had never been seen before.
Doctors didn't know its name, origin, nor a cure for it. Any and every attempt at curing me failed. As the symptoms worsened, my energy drained away day by day. The money my parents left me was slowly being consumed by the countless hospital visits.
The relentless pain and hopelessness crushed me. The little resolve I had shattered, and I gave up on treatments entirely.
With nothing else to do but await my inevitable death, I spent my days reading books or playing video games. It was a monotonous cycle at this point, broken only by the presence of one person.
"So, how's the book, Noah?"
A voice that was all too familiar pulled me back to reality. I shifted my gaze towards the direction of the voice.
"Not bad, I guess," I said, shrugging.
Pouting slightly, the girl who asked the question sat next to me, her long hazel hair cascading down her back, catching the sunlight streaming through the window in a subtle golden undertone. Her face was beautiful, all her features perfectly sculpted. Her expressive eyes stared at me; it had a captivating depth.
The only friend I ever had, and the person closest to me: my childhood friend Ava Sterling.
She was an orphan, just like me, and the only person who visited me every day. She had kept me company and brought me novels to read. Her involvement in my life was the only motivation I had left.
"Not bad? Well, it was just a book I found lying on the street." She said, smiling playfully. "I thought it was interesting, so I gave it to you."
"A book you found on the street?" I said, scowling. "No wonder I couldn't find anything about it online..."
The book Ava lent me had no name. It was a book with an empty cover, devoid of a title or an author. I thought it was strange, but since she always gave me good books to read, I gave it a chance.
It was like any other fantasy novel—an overly righteous protagonist with a tragic backstory. He stumbles into a hidden dungeon and gains a 'system' which makes him overpowered.
It wasn't a bad novel by any means, but if there was anything I hated, it was harems. I always despised the idea of harems, and it somewhat spoiled a few stories for me.
"Anyway, I'm going to grab a drink from the fridge. You want anything?" She asked, standing up.
"Nah, I'm good."
She walked out of the living room and headed towards the kitchen.
Drip. Drip.
"...Fuck."
I felt a liquid running down my face. Blood. It trickled down from my nose, staining my white shirt red. The pain in my chest intensified. I fell off the sofa, collapsing onto the floor. The pain was more than any of the previous incidents.
'It looks like I don't have much longer.'
"Noah!"
'She must've heard me fall down.'
Ava took my arm around her shoulder, resting my body back onto the sofa. She held me in her arms, tears streaming down her face, falling onto my shirt.
"Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?" she cried, her voice shaking.
Seeing her like this tore my heart. I managed to force a weak smile.
"I'm sorry, Ava," I said, wiping away her tears. "I can't hold on much longer."
I leaned onto her shoulder and closed my eyes. I couldn't hold back my tears anymore.
'I thought I had come to terms with my death.'
'But... damn it, I don't want to go. I want to live longer.'
Her warmth was the last thing I felt as my breathing slowed.