"That's not a cure. That's a curse."
They were the last words she remembered. The last thing that she had heard. What had it been about? What had been said?
She couldn't remember.
It had been one of the doctors, the one that had spoken to her, that had explained what was going on to her. It was hard to remember now, it was hard to think. All she really remember was the pain. How it had ached and lanced through her, how it had stabbed and torn at her, how it had set her flesh aflame with the pure suffering it had caused. Words were dotted out, torn from memory and replaced with a single aching memory of the pain she had been in when her body had still responded to her.
Now she simply floated. Her mind seemed separate from who she was, it seemed torn away and distant. She could not see through her own eyes, she could not move her hands or feet. She could not even feel the pain that had haunted her for the last few weeks. It should have been a reprieve, it should have been something to rejoice about, yet all Rose felt was despair.
She new that it meant the end was coming, she knew that it meant she was finished.
Her time was now spent within nothingness. It was simply spent floating, waiting, watching, and thinking.
Those thoughts always returned to the same place, always moved back to the one person that she yet loved, her sister. Lily was all she had, and Rose was all Lily had. She was scared for her, scared for her sister being alone in the galaxy.
Fear for herself was no longer there, it had been driven from her, pushed away.
She remembered Lily coming to see her, or she thought she did. She remembered a flurry of red, of anger, of sadness. She remembered words and a soft caress that had burned her skin like fire. Rose was sure it had been real, was sure that her sisters touch had flared on her skin, or she hoped it had been.
Part of the sickness was seeing things, hearing things. She knew that, more than once she had awoken, more than once she had seen her father, her mother, both of them. She knew they had been fake. They had touched her, spoken to her, taken away some of the pain. That had been an illusion, a trick played by the sickness so that she would cease her fighting and give in. Rose knew that, though the first time it had happened she had shattered her heart in realization.
The fragments of emotions she had left, the shambles of her mind that had not fallen to pain, fear, and agony were hardly intact. The only thing that kept her going was her sister, the thought that Lily would be alone. She knew she had to hang on a little while longer, even if there was no cure, even if she would not get better.
She had been in this bed for weeks, or perhaps months, or perhaps just days. Rose didn't know. The pain and hurt had blended time together. She had not seen a sunrise or set in what seemed like decades, for all she knew she had been within this bed for an eternity. She remembered glimpses, small snippets of conversations and talk. She remembered Vrag, the doctors, and of course Lily. Yet it all seemed futile to her, useless.
What little hope she had had was long gone.
They talked about a cure. They talked about treatment, but she knew it was hopeless. She knew that it was foolish to dream of something like that, to hang on for a false promise. So when she was awake and the doctors spoke she tuned them out, her eyes closing and her ears focusing on any other noise besides their speech.
"...Could ask the Sith."
"They already came. Lady Vrag consulted and well...it didn't look good. Sith don't have many healers."
"The Jedi?"
That had caught her attention at first, but the conversation soon faded away into something less dull. The Jedi could not heal this. No one...nothing could. Rose had been sundered by her own hubris, brought down by her arrogance and uncaring, taken to heel by ancient forces that were a millenia gone. This was her own fault, her own mistake.
Rose didn't blame anyone. She didn't think she had a right to.
She was resigned to death, so when she heard those last words, when she heard them ringing within her ears
"That's not a cure. That's a curse."
She didn't even think about what they meant.
They were the last words she remembered. The last thing that she had heard. What had it been about? What had been said?
She couldn't remember.
It had been one of the doctors, the one that had spoken to her, that had explained what was going on to her. It was hard to remember now, it was hard to think. All she really remember was the pain. How it had ached and lanced through her, how it had stabbed and torn at her, how it had set her flesh aflame with the pure suffering it had caused. Words were dotted out, torn from memory and replaced with a single aching memory of the pain she had been in when her body had still responded to her.
Now she simply floated. Her mind seemed separate from who she was, it seemed torn away and distant. She could not see through her own eyes, she could not move her hands or feet. She could not even feel the pain that had haunted her for the last few weeks. It should have been a reprieve, it should have been something to rejoice about, yet all Rose felt was despair.
She new that it meant the end was coming, she knew that it meant she was finished.
Her time was now spent within nothingness. It was simply spent floating, waiting, watching, and thinking.
Those thoughts always returned to the same place, always moved back to the one person that she yet loved, her sister. Lily was all she had, and Rose was all Lily had. She was scared for her, scared for her sister being alone in the galaxy.
Fear for herself was no longer there, it had been driven from her, pushed away.
She remembered Lily coming to see her, or she thought she did. She remembered a flurry of red, of anger, of sadness. She remembered words and a soft caress that had burned her skin like fire. Rose was sure it had been real, was sure that her sisters touch had flared on her skin, or she hoped it had been.
Part of the sickness was seeing things, hearing things. She knew that, more than once she had awoken, more than once she had seen her father, her mother, both of them. She knew they had been fake. They had touched her, spoken to her, taken away some of the pain. That had been an illusion, a trick played by the sickness so that she would cease her fighting and give in. Rose knew that, though the first time it had happened she had shattered her heart in realization.
The fragments of emotions she had left, the shambles of her mind that had not fallen to pain, fear, and agony were hardly intact. The only thing that kept her going was her sister, the thought that Lily would be alone. She knew she had to hang on a little while longer, even if there was no cure, even if she would not get better.
She had been in this bed for weeks, or perhaps months, or perhaps just days. Rose didn't know. The pain and hurt had blended time together. She had not seen a sunrise or set in what seemed like decades, for all she knew she had been within this bed for an eternity. She remembered glimpses, small snippets of conversations and talk. She remembered Vrag, the doctors, and of course Lily. Yet it all seemed futile to her, useless.
What little hope she had had was long gone.
They talked about a cure. They talked about treatment, but she knew it was hopeless. She knew that it was foolish to dream of something like that, to hang on for a false promise. So when she was awake and the doctors spoke she tuned them out, her eyes closing and her ears focusing on any other noise besides their speech.
"...Could ask the Sith."
"They already came. Lady Vrag consulted and well...it didn't look good. Sith don't have many healers."
"The Jedi?"
That had caught her attention at first, but the conversation soon faded away into something less dull. The Jedi could not heal this. No one...nothing could. Rose had been sundered by her own hubris, brought down by her arrogance and uncaring, taken to heel by ancient forces that were a millenia gone. This was her own fault, her own mistake.
Rose didn't blame anyone. She didn't think she had a right to.
She was resigned to death, so when she heard those last words, when she heard them ringing within her ears
"That's not a cure. That's a curse."
She didn't even think about what they meant.