Revealing a Revelation

Revealing a Revelation

Tyren Orca - District Two - Eighteen

"Who are you expecting in your birth suit?" He asks me cheekily. Matthew that is. He's came to my door, seemingly out of breath from something. I don't understand how he can have his hair hanging that low, it really does irritate me. I can't help it, but today I'm noticing all these things. These little things that are irritating me to no end. His hair, the sound of knocking at the door. It gives me more of a stern look I feel, and I don't like that even, either. I'm irritating by being irritating. "I was just borrowing Kyanite's usual outfit." I snap back cheekily, because it's fair to be fair. I'm just implying that she's always naked but it doesn't really make sense because she's not at all, not with me anyway. "Could I get a drink of water. I forgot my bottle." He came all this way for a drink of water? He must be forgetful this morning, that irritates me too. Oh well. I sigh a tiny, tiny bit. "Sure."

He goes to push past me lightly but he stops when he gets closer. "What happened?" He says as I step aside, letting him in. "I had a falling out with a tin of beans that fell from the cupboard." My lie is perfect. I'm not telling him that I still get the occasional nose bleed from the tension that can sometimes build up in my head, due to the thinning of the blood vessels in my neck. I can't be bothered with his pity, my mood is too awful for it and I don't know why.

He probably won't figure out I'm not telling the truth.

"Is that all you wanted, a bottle of water?" I say, almost with a bite to my words as I go to the sink to fill up one of the man empty bottles we collect just in case we need one. This one just happens to be some Pepsi, but obviously without the Pepsi. A peacekeeper planted on the front, as usual with the top brands.

Revealing a Revelation

Tyren Orca - District Two - Eighteen

"Beans for breakfast, yummy." Beans aren't part of my appetite today. I want to eat something unhealthy and fattening but I won't be able to let myself, and I know it. I could just go get a big fat burger from the burger van that probably will be outside the garden shop down the road. It's a long road though. "Do you get hit by cans a lot?" I have no choice but to raise a brow at him. He's clicked on, unfortunately. I'm going to keep to my little lie though. I don't want him feeling down again just because I've got some recurring symptoms. So what? I'll get over it. It's only a bit of blood. "The only thing I attract is beans mate, that's pretty disappointing." I try to chuckle a little, but it feels wrong.

"One day you and me are going to be on water bottles." I frown the tiniest of bits. I can't let him carry on hoping that the two of us have a genuine future in this thing. "Who put your knickers in a knot, bud?" He asks me...

"Matt, I just... We've talked about it so many times but I can't do it anymore. I can't go back to that stupid academy." There, I said it. I lift my head a little bit, trying to remove my stern look but it's not going away, not at the thought of something new. "Besides... They're letting Joe out." I almost roll my eyes. He'll be under the same roof as me, the person whom I have disowned. Maybe I am wrong about it, I hope I am, but I can't help but know that he risked the security of this family over a pathetic little whim.

"I haven't visited him once. Does he deserve that?"

Revealing a Revelation

Tyren Orca - District Two - Eighteen

"You'll find a good guy, promise." He teases at me. At least I think it is teasing. My usual reaction would be to laugh it off immediately, but today I just can't bring myself to do it. I literally care so little about what other people think right now. When he mocks me though, I get so angry inside. "Yeah, a challenge can be tough." My brows weigh on my face, I give him a glare. I pull a face of 'what did you just say?' But I don't call him out. He asks me why, and I tell him. "Is Mr. Convict, who shit on his family more important than you career?" I shouldn't have asked Matthew, he's bias because he doesn't know Joe at all. Not before, and definitely not after his conviction. "His name is Joe. He's my cousin. He left for a reason, I just don't know it yet." I try to assume there is a better reason than leaving because he was bored. That would be stupid, and I know it isn't that at all.

"Thanks for the water, partner." His emphasis on 'partner' has my glare sustaining on him like a pin. I can feel it. It's that urge to smack him in the face, stab him in the neck twice with a spear and see how he likes it when his only friend abandons him with petty reasoning. I've had it.

"So how long are you going to tell me about beans? Or are you going to tell the guy who's wearing your tags what's really going on?"

"Fine, I'll tell you." My eyes beam at him. "Every. Single. Day. I have been putting up with these stupid, awful headaches. Every day I am reminded about how you are doing so well with your fucking girlfriend." I'm letting it all out right now. Every last bit of it. "I took some pills, not good ones." My tone of voice is quite loud, very authoritative. This is me when I get pissed off. Thankfully, there's nobody from my family in the house. "I wasn't to know that they would knock me out, keep me from sleeping all night." I turn away from him, running my slightly bloodied hand under the tap, then wiping my nose. The last time I had a bloodied nose around Matthew, he had caused it. I'm glad there's no risk of Alex walking down from the stairs. "I'm pissed off Matt. So pissed off! I can't deal with this bullshit any more. I'm not going back to that place." I slam a fist against the counter once, still looking away from him. This is probably the first time I've gotten genuinely angry and not had a tear in my eye.

Suddenly though, something unexpected happens. Footsteps from upstairs, coming down. Quickly, as well. It's almost as though my fist caused them to start. Out of almost nowhere, Mark appears from the stairs. In nothing but his shorts as well. He is more build than I am, he is a professional athlete. Apparently he's a professional at screwing up as well, he wasn't supposed to come down.

"Shit Tyren, you alright?" He says, looking to the blood gathered slightly on my nose, my fists balled up. His voice is suddenly sympathetic and contagiously so. Then he sees Matthew. Mark looks caught off guard for a moment but then his voice has adjusted, more stern. "What are you doing here?" He asks. I sigh. Great.

Revealing a Revelation

Tyren Orca - District Two - Eighteen

Why do my hands shake so desperately in the light that leaves my eyes so dry? Why is it that my breath is looser, and my arms weak with fatigue? I am like a walking connection of bones, joined only by the lingering hope that the news I shall receive is naught but a fashion of disjoint, and that my condition is purely miraculous in it's origin; non-existent. It won't happen, not for me. I won't be one of the fortunate ones. I've suffered for too long for this to be nothing. Now, I've finally plucked up the courage to tell my closest two friends, and my uncle had to know. Leaving this world would be too hard for me to do. I've been there before, on the edge. It isn't a pleasant place at all. It is where the dead go to decide their own fates, instead of being pushed themselves. I had that chance, but I wiltered on the edge and something grabbed me. It was Matthew, the moment he came into my room to reconcile his punishment against me. That arena, that pathetically dirty arena, was the death of me to that point. This is something more, though. I know it. If it were because of him, I could probably kick him out of this car and send him rolling. I know it isn't, though. I know the truth here, and the truth is; it runs in the family. It's a secret, one that Uncle Mike wouldn't tell anybody.

But still it leaves me on the precipice of the end. Like a movie running out of reel.

We are now safely in the car, and Mark hands me a t-shirt to which I have to slip onto my body. I had forgotten completely. I'm too nervous to hear things right now, too frightened to turn around and see that Matthew had entered the car. He's giving me advice, and I unconsciously follow it, but the nosebleed has stopped. There is little point putting a dam across an empty river. "I hope you're alright, Ty." He admits. It's almost like an admitting tone. I don't know what I'm hearing fully. I nod at him, subtly. "He'll be fine, don't worry Matthew." Mike says from the driver's seat. Mark is in the front, too. He clearly remembers the time that Matthew and I were too drunk to walk home, and I had rung him to pick us up. He was kind about it that night, and didn't mention it to anybody until the party, which even then it was a good laugh to reminisce upon. This is another reason why Mike was a perfect candidate for my company today.

It's not even going to be day for long. By time we leave the hospital, I can tell already it will be tomorrow. Whatever happens, I won't have the capability to deal with the result. Good or bad. I'll need help. I'm not used to having it in such a short supply. That's my fault, though. I should've told people.

We near the hospital and Mike parks up. I get out first and Uncle Mike offers me a solitary smile, just for me. It's for me to know that he's here. He will be my shoulder to rest on when I get too tired, too weary. He knows. Nobody else knows.

We head in. There's nothing to say. Nobody wants to say anything to me, I don't think. They are probably too fearful of angering me, or frightening me. My breaths are quite short, but silent. I don't like to let on that I am dying of nerves, and not whatever causes the nosebleeds.

Now, we wait. Outside of an office. It's too quiet. If there's any motion, it isn't directed towards us. We're sitting in the middle of an ocean full of blind sharks. That's what it feels like. All of the nurses are like eels, swimming around in the water, avoiding all of the beds that rush to and fro and I can't keep the concentration to perceive every detail as I once usually would. Maybe that's the problem; I see too much. Maybe I'm thinking too much...

"Mr Orca." A voice calls. I freeze. I look straight to my uncle. I can't look anywhere else. I'm frozen in this position, almost pessimistic straight away. It could be good news. I will hope so. It will be good news. Mike stands up, Mark stays seated and I think I've shut off Matthew for now. He's not coming in with me; no way. Nobody else, just me and my uncle. He knows.

He holds out a hand for me to get up. I grab it and help myself to my feet, relieving the contact with him because it's not what I want; to be hand-held into my doom. If there's an angel out there, they aren't related to me. We enter the room and the door is shut.
My face is warm with nerves. I feel like I could cry already. Crying is how it all comes out; emotion. I'm scared, sad. Sorrowful. I don't even know the result.

"Mr Orca." She repeats. The doctor, that is. "You came for your scan, and we have to tell you the results." I drum my fingers silently under the plastic chair I took to, as I entered. "I don't want to beat around a bush here."

"You have a moderate tumor in your frontal lobe." I crumble.

I am gone. Broken for the moment. I grip so fucking tight to the chair, and my eyelids cling to a close. My head lowers. I don't want to breath any more. I don't want to fight this.

"I... Know it's-" She stops speaking as my uncle puts his arms around me and I take his shoulder that he had offered because I really need it. My nose runs like it has to escape something, and my tears are already reddening my eyes.

"It is treatable, but not easily. Not cheaply. We will try our best, but without Capitol support, you will have to pay for the operations entirely." It feels like a punch to the stomach. I feel like I've just been stabbed and suddenly all of my blood if rippling across the floor like a waterfall, but only red and sprinting down the shiny surface that is the sterile hospital bottom. "Come on Ty, you'll be alright. I'll pay. I'll do it all, just- Look at me." I do it, my Uncle holding my shoulders and pushing me from his shoulder. I look at him and I can tell he understands the hurt in my eyes. "Just because Granda didn't make it, doesn't mean you won't. We can afford it this time." My grandad is his dad. He means this with every inch of his heart. The reason I wanted to bring him is that I need somebody who knows what they are talking about. Somebody who I can trust. He can, because he was young when his father died. My dad was almost a peacekeeper, so it made no sense for him to care, or show he cared. I didn't want to spur any lost feelings my father had hidden in his head.

"Say something, Tyren."

"I..."

He sighs, taking me again. I feel so broken right now. I take the deepest of breaths and leave his side for a moment, standing up. I wipe my eyes, the doctor handing me some tissues. I crack the smallest of smiles. "My eyes still work..." I say to her, half in embarrassment and half in the necessity to stay positive. "That's more like it, Tyren." She tells me. I sit down again, my eyes ready to give way again, but I stop them.

"We can try to operate and remove the tumor. It has a 60% success rate, and the other 40% can come from Chemotherapy afterwards. You've been to school, you know the consequences. Just know that you are safe."

She goes on about my treatments some more, that I should come back for more sessions to ensure I'm learned in all of the ways of treating myself without too much assistance. That's just it though; I'll need a lot of assistance. There'll be no going out camping, no going out drinking. My immune system will be broken. Torn apart by the chemotherapy. After the operation, that is. I don't know when that is; not soon enough. I'll likely find out next time.

I feel so small right now. How do I even begin to tell Matthew, and Mark? My whole family? My friends? Kyanite? Vy?

Alex...?

I just can't fall now. Not at the first hurdle. If I am going to race, I am going to win.

I open the door myself, and I look at the pair that sit in front of me. Mark, Matthew. Sitting with two spaces between them. The redness plagues my eyes due to the tears. Uncle Mike, who I can't quite see, hasn't wept a single tear. I'm not crying now, but I can feel myself about to. This is my calling to the grave, and I know it...

Mike opens his mouth to speak first. I go to sit down straight away. "Tyren has a brain tumor. It's treatable, but we're going to have to fork out a lot of cash, that we can fork out, to treat it. He's going to need help. And if you're going to be a good mate, and you're going to be a good best friend," He says, pointing toward Mark, then Matthew. "You'll have to be with him every step of the way."