“She signed a DNR,” Ruby says, drawing Murph's penetrating gaze toward her.

“So what.”

“You're being irrational.”

“Legally, there’s nothing I can do if she signed a DNR.”

“You can get the fuck out,” he shouts at Shelby.

“Murph!” Ruby and I yell at the same time.

“What the hell is your problem?” a voice rasps quietly from the bed. We all freeze and look in the direction from where it came. Looking barely alive, Hazel is glaring at Murph with a furrowed brow and angry stare.

“Tell these mother fuckers you’re not just giving up,” he says, and I hear the terrified shake in his words.

“Give us a second, please,” she croaks toward the rest of us. I want to hold her hand, look into her eyes, soak up these last few moments of lucidity before they are gone forever. I’m desperate to ask her why she left me that note, ask her why she would choose me and how I can change her mind.

Instead, I do as she says and walk out of the room, holding onto his eyes as I disappear behind the door.

I don’t know what’s happening in the room, but I know he’s hurting. I can practically feel the pain radiating off of him like heat on his skin. If what Shelby said is true, then it’s only a few more days until she’s gone. Then, the real hell will start.

She can’t even pick up her head, and I can tell it’s taking all of her energy just to lift her arm. The anguish on her face makes me want to scream at that good-for-nothing nurse. She can’t ease her pain or keep her alive, so what the fuck is she even here for?

I can’t bear to sit on her bed. I could hurt her by just putting some pressure on the mattress, but I need to be near her. So I kneel next to the bed and hold her hand. It’s like holding bones covered in cold flesh.

“You’re not giving up,” I mumble. “You’re a fucking fighter. How much did you fight for me? You taught me to be a fighter.”

“I’ve fought enough, Murph. I want to rest now.”

“Fuck that.”

“Fuck you,” she growls. And I can’t help myself, but I laugh. “I don’t deserve to be kept alive on some machine. I want to go on my terms, and you can’t stop me.”

It kills me to let this go, so I rest my head against our clasped hands. “I shouldn’t have stayed away so long. I shouldn’t have left you at all.”

“Don’t say that,” she says. “Murph, I wanted you to live your life. I didn’t want you hanging around here all the time.”

I don’t have the heart to tell her that I wasn’t living my life. I was hiding. Grieving alone and secluding myself in my pain, building up walls thicker and stronger than before.