Don't read this. It won't make you happy.
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Edison slammed his hand on the horn, yelling as he did, "Move!"

The driver in front of him threw up a hand, confused as Edison's impatience. Edison gripped his steering wheel, how did this man not sense what was happening?

Pressing down on the accelerator, Edison cut into the bike lane and darted around the car. Blood roared in his ears, his heart screaming for him to go faster, to make it in time. The car ate up the distance, but still, it wasn't fast enough.

Edison careened into the hospital parking lot and jerked the car into a parking space. He sprinted a few steps before he realized he left the keys in the ignition. Swearing, he returned, yanked them out and slammed the door shut. He ran. He ran like he was on the field and everything depended on his speed.

He jolted to a stop before the hospital doors, nearly colliding with the too slow sliding doors. He shoved his body through the first gap in the doors and took off once inside, twisting around a nurse wheeling an elderly man.

Someone shouted at him, but he didn't care. Nothing mattered but getting there. Ignoring the elevator, he charged up the stairs, using the railing to launch himself upward.

"Please, please, please, God, please, please, please."

The plea ran an anthem in his head as he pounded up floor after floor. He tripped out of the stairwell and sprinted towards her room, his breath burning in his lungs.

"Please, God, please."

At the doorway, he stumbled to a halt, heart freezing in his chest. He stood looking in on a demented dream. Streamers hung in strips from the ceiling. Clusters of balloons nestled in corners. Pointed party hats sat atop heads.

All the happy colors contrasted the stricken faces beneath the paper hats.

And in the bed, lay Kit. Small, fragile, boisterous, infuriating, wild Kit, delicate as a doll.

She met his gaze and smiled.

He felt as if it were his heart that was broken because when he saw the glow of mischief in her eyes, his heart forgot its rhythm.

"The lifeguard is here to save me," she said.

Edison couldn't move, couldn't bring himself to put one foot in front of the other. He wanted to run away from this nightmare. Before he could act on the impulse, Jaxon stood before him, clasping Edison's shoulder.

"If you leave now, you'll never forgive yourself," he said.

Edison balled his hands into fists, almost shaking with the force of his emotions.

"It's not..." He swallowed hard, his tongue lead. "It's not a false alarm?"

Jaxon didn't need to answer, the truth lay in the tinge of red in his eyes. Instead of speaking, Jaxon squeezed Edison's shoulder, pulling him further into the room. Kit's parents sat on one side of her bed, huddled together, leaning on each other as they held their daughter's hand. On the other side sat Kit's aunt and uncle. Breaking the solemn silence was the constant beep beep of the heart monitor.

"Edison," Kit said, her voice deceptively strong. "Why do you look so down, it's not like anyone's dying."

He hated her. He hated her so much he feared he would walk away and never look back. Before he could, Kit took his hand, shaking it weakly.

"It's a joke," she said. "You're supposed to laugh."

He tried to smile but his face wouldn't listen to his command, a heavy sadness dragged it down.

"Eddie," she said. "Don't be a downer."

Edison swallowed again. "You're the only one who never used my nickname."

"That's because I know you're not average. You're Edison, the brightest bulb of the bunch."

A faint smile touched his lips but faded quickly. Kit gazed around the sad group, frowning.

"This is the dullest party I've been to and that includes Jaxon's clown birthday party. Jaxon give me a beat on your kazoo."

Edison looked at Jaxon, but Jaxon couldn't give a beat, he didn't have a kazoo, all he had was a fist full of plastic shards.

Suddenly, Kit went limp, her head flopped to the side, eyes closed, mouth open, tongue hanging out, a dry bleh sound slipping out.

Everyone stopped breathing. Only the monitor stayed steady. Kit peeked through one eye, the edge of her mouth curling upward.

"I feel like my joke would be funnier if I didn't have the heart monitor on," she said. She raised her hand. "Dad, take it off and I'll do the joke again."

Kit's mom let out a small gasp and buried her face in her husband's shoulder. Kit's amusement fell.

"No, mom," she said. "You said you wouldn't cry."

Jack forced a smile. "She's not crying, kitten, she's merely raining on my shoulder."

"Still struggles with being a raincloud then?"

"Well, she has storms she weathers."

Kit laughed, but pain flashed across her face and the heart monitor bleeped in response. Edison choked on his breath as Kit took his hand. When the moment passed, Kit sank deeper into her bed. She looked to her parents, all laughter gone.

"Please," she said softly. "I feel like I'm an animal in the zoo. Please don't make me feel alone."

Edison watched as Jack mustered all his strength and smiled. "Once, about two years ago in the summer, we were in Oslo and I was working late. Kit walked into my office and told me it was time to go get ice cream."

As he spoke, Edison saw Kit relax.

"It was two in the morning. I told her nothing would be open and asked why she wanted to go. She said that a favorite singer of hers had done it and that is seemed to be a tradition. I don't know why this convinced me, I guess it was late, but we left our apartment and tried to buy ice cream. It didn't work, but it was a good night."

The room shifted with the story, the atmosphere lightening, just a fraction.

"That's nothing," Jaxon said. "When we were eight, KitKat and I trailed an ice cream truck for twenty blocks until the man finally gave us free handouts."

Soft chuckles filled the air and more stories tumbled forward. Each showed a snapshot of Kit's life, the adventures she went on and the wild situations she put herself in. With each antidote, more and more laughter rang out.

The somber room transformed into a smiled filled haven. As everyone looked to each other, Edison looked at Kit. That was the magic of her, even with death creeping in, she managed to bring happiness to the people around her.

During one of the stories, Kit slipped an envelope to Edison with a secret smile then looked away, saying nothing about the gift. Edison held the thick envelope, feeling the paper crinkle in his hand, tracing his thumb over the curvy writing of his name on top.

The end came with the first hints of dawn. The beep beep beep cut off, letting out one long whine. Kit's fingers turned limp in Edison's hand as he stared at the monitor, waiting.

Waiting for the spikes in the line to come back. Waiting. They had to come back. He would wait until they did. She had to come back. She would come back.

But the line continued, ceaseless, uncaring.

A choked sob cut the stillness.

Edison stood and backed away.

He couldn't take his eyes off the monitor even as Kit's parents crowded around their daughter.

She would come back.

She was pretending.

He needed her to be pretending.

But he knew she wasn't.

Because all the warmth and life were gone.

Wordlessly, he left, ghosting his way to his car.

He pulled into his driveway, not remembering how he got there. The truck lights lit up the garage door. A section of the paint was flaking. The engine rumbled, sending tremors through the seat. A song played low on the radio, incoherent sounds. Streaks of sunlight crept down the house roof.

Slowly, Edison cut the engine, leaving him in silence. He stared at the steering wheel. Bits of the leather were fraying, cracked, broken.

He looked to the seat beside him. Laying there was her letter. Numb, he opened it and slid out the first page.

My dearest fellow,

"NO!"

Edison grabbed the steering wheel and shook it, screaming.

Screaming until his voice turned raw.

Screaming until the front house lights turned on and his mother came rushing out.

Screaming until she pulled the door open and he crumpled into her arms.

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Hey *hands you tissues*

So yeah...

I am sorry.

Someone asked for the last moments, I was having trouble writing so I wrote this...

I'm sorry. There's not a lot I can say.

If you want to scream, yell, shout at me then you can. I'll listen and say I'm sorry again.

Honestly while writing this it hit me harder than I imagined it would. I guess it's still depressing to think about someone so full of life like Kit being gone.

Don't vote, comment, follow because let's face it, I stabbed you in the heart, I don't deserve anything.

Maybe this can bring back your smile.

That's a baby Cal (Holding Back) if ever I saw one!