The glaring lights were really starting to grate on her, nevermind the constant beeping from machines and the murmur that filtered in from the hallway. But despite these annoyances, despite having to wear the rough hospital gown with nothing but her underwear beneath, despite being endlessly prodded over the past two days, Arie was smiling.

Today was the day.

Today she would gain back a modicum of her freedom.

Today she would stop being a burden.

Today was the day she would get the experimental surgery.

Ignoring the rumbling of her stomach – no food before surgery! – Arie waits patiently for the surgical team. Well, maybe not so patiently as her fingers beat out a quick rhythm on her thigh and her feet cross, then uncross, and cross again.

The rhythm her fingers have so effortlessly created is interrupted by the entrance of a doctor. Not the entrance of a team of doctors to get her prepped for surgery. But the entrance of her surgeon who she was not supposed to see until she was in the operating room.

Shit.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, tone blunt and accusing.

“Are your parents around? I think - ”

“They’re down getting a coffee or lunch or something. Tell me.”

Sighing, Dr. Cavanugh walks over and begins, “The surgery’s been canceled, Arie. I’m sorry, we will get you discharged right away so you can go home -”

“Home? It’s just been postponed. Right? The surgery has just been postponed and I‘m more than happy to wait right here until you are ready to…to…”

Her voice trails off as she sees the man shaking his head, not meeting her eye. “No, I’m sorry. The entire procedure has been canceled. This trial was reviewed by a board this morning who have decided to shut it down. There’s nothing to be done. I know you were excited about this, but it’ll be fine, you’ll see. We will figure something else out.”

With a pitying smile he turned to the door, likely to find her parents. Or to escape the tears of a grown woman.

But she did not have tears today.

Reaching over, she grabs the half-eaten pudding her father had left behind earlier and throws it at the man’s retreating back.

“No!” reaching over she grabs for the tissue box and hurls that his way as well. “NO! You can’t cancel this! You won’t figure anything else out! You’ve seen me in and out of this bed for years now and you know this is the first thing that was even close to an answer.”

She knew people were pausing in the hall, listening to the screams of a crazy woman, but she had her eyes fixed on the chocolate pudding dripping off of the white coat across the room.

“LOOK AT ME! Look me in the eye and tell me again that ‘it’ll be fine.’ And when you do, remember that at 23, my parents are my only friends because I spend too much time hooked up to machines to bother making any. Look me in the eye and remember that I’ve never moved out of my parents’ house let alone been on a vacation because I always needed to be close to this hospital and you doctors.” She said the last word with a sneer.

Aria struggles out of bed and grabs the small flower vase her mother had brought in just that morning. She didn’t even care that her gown had slipped open or that she had turn her exposed back to the room to grab the new weapon. Whirling around, her eyes blaze when she sees that while Dr. Cavanugh remained in the room, he would not turn around. She sees his hand grip the doorway and she aims for that hand as she launches the blue vase across the room. She hopes it shatters.

Pacing the room she continues her tirade, now aware that even as her anger grew, her heart had begun to break. And regardless of the heat of her anger, it did not keep the tears at bay.

“Year after year you and these doctors lie to me. Year after year you say there will be a way out. A way to FIX me. A way to let me eat what I want, go where I want, and not be tied down by these stupid machines and endless pills and the neverending tests. You LIE. And then you finally give me this hope - you let me hope and get excited and PLAN for a real life. And all you have to say is sorry?”

Her voice breaks on the last word and she quits her pacing to try to find more ammunition. But these stupid hospital rooms are so sparsely furnished that there’s nothing left to throw. Feeling the tears chase each other down her cheeks and unable to stand the look of the doctor’s back with hunched shoulders as if he’s the one in pain, she spits “GET OUT!” and rushes to the door. She slams it on his heels and presses her cheek against the door and slides to the ground, letting the sobs wrack her body.

She knows she will regret this burst of energy later. She knows her body will punish her for being so active, and that she will have to face Dr. Cavanugh again to get her body back under control.

And she doesn’t care. All she knows is that her heart’s been cleaved in half. And worse... that it’s been torn in half and every last drop of hope, wishfulness, and faith has drained away. It lay around her along with the spilled water from the vase. Sure, she may be able to clean this up - but it will never be put back the way it was. The water has been spilt, the hope has been drained - the aftermath may be cleaned up, but it will never be fixed.

Just like her.