I close my eyes, sucking in a deep breath of air and look at the boy. He’s looking at me with his face tilted in confusion, but in an expression that I think is supposed to be kind. I don’t want to hear him sing, I don’t want him to try to comfort me. I’m so sick of being a test case. I just want to be alone. I just want to cry.

“My name’s Joshua,” he says, taking a step nearer to me. I refuse to acknowledge his presence, staring down at my feet. “What’s yours?”

Again, I don’t answer. I drop my head down to my chest like I did earlier. I hate the way his singing makes me feel.

He doesn’t answer, but his footsteps get louder, and I know that he is coming nearer to me. “You know,” he says, and I hear him plop down on a chair next to me. “Why not try listening to something more cheerful? You should listen to things that are going to be encouraging to you.”

I stare at my knees with bitterness seeping into my heart. I don’t want to listen to different music. I have my life, I have my interests, I have my music. He can’t just butt his way in and wrench it away from me. I don’t look up.

He sighs, and I hear his feet thunk against the ground and know that he has stood up again. “Why not give it a try? I’ll make you a list of my favorite songs when I have time.”

I look up at him, my face twisted in anger. “Please don’t,” I whisper, kicking the desk. “Please, please don’t.”

He tilts his head, looking confused, and I put my hand to my forehead, another wave of despair crashing over me. I don’t know what he’s going to say, but I don’t want to hear it. I’m tired of hearing him speak. I just want him to leave. I just want to be left be.

We sit there in silence for a long time, staring at each other. I struggle to keep myself from screaming, misery ripping my heart into tattered shreds. Why will he not get the point and leave me alone? I’ve only known him for a minute, but already, he’s trying to control my music. I can live my life without his help. I only have a few months to live it, I won’t let him live them for me.

Joshua begins humming something that is supposed to be cheerful, and I shake my head and fall back, desperately trying to figure out what to do. “Stop it,” I say finally. “I don’t want to hear you sing.”

His eyebrows knit together and he gives a weak smile, but the gloom only seems to get more thick. “That’s okay, then, I won’t sing.”

I shake my head desperately. “Please just go away,” I beg, clasping my trembling hands together and staring up at him with my face twisted in agony. “Whatever you want, I can’t give it.”

He stands up, staring down at me with a look on his face that I know is supposed to be sympathy. It only makes my heart curl with anger, because I don’t need his sympathy. I don’t want his kindness. “I just want to be able to help you,” he says loudly, kneeling down and making a move to grab my hand. I yank it away, staring up at him with my cheeks burning.

“Stop it.” I shove him away, grabbing the desk and pulling myself to my feet. “Just stop trying to help. You can’t change anything.”

He stands up too, and looks at me for a second with his arms hanging limply at his sides. “Are you sure? I could-”

I cut him off, pushing past him in desperate attempt to get to the door. Each word he says makes me feel more horrible inside. I can’t take it anymore. “I said, you can’t change anything. Nothing you do is going to work.”

His face falls, he looks disappointed. He doesn’t even care about my problems, just fixing them. He doesn’t care about me either, just being the teacher’s pet who finally manages to get me out of the classroom. I hate him.

“Hey, wait.” He grabs my hand, and I swirl around. Sorrow overcomes me and I can’t take it anymore, I fall backwards and hit against a desk. “I said stop it,” I yell, my face twisting in anguish. “I’m not going to get up, okay?”

He shakes his head in bafflement, and stumbles backwards. “Okay, okay, calm down.” He gives a nervous laugh, as if he’s trying to turn it into a joke, but it’s not funny. I’m not a joke. I’m a girl with leukemia.

“Just leave me alone,” I cry, stumbling backwards and away from him.

“No,” he cries back, his voice deafeningly loud. “I’m not leaving, Alyssa. You need to know that there are people here for you.”

I stare at him in revulsion. “Here for me? I don’t even know who you are.” I hit my fist against the desk and slide away from him. “You are not here for me, you are here to fix me.” I’m screaming now, but I don’t care anymore. “Look at me. Look, like actually look. I’m not just someone sad, someone who’s problems need to be solved, I’m a person. I’m a girl. Why don’t you stop to ask me how I feel, instead of just intruding on my personal life?”

He stumbles backwards, his face shocked and hurt. My heart twists within me, I want to say more, want to tell him I’m sorry, but I don’t. I want him to leave, want him to walk away and never come back. But he still stands there, staring at me and shaking his head with wonder. “Alyssa, I’m sorry, you’re right, I haven’t been-”

I thrust my hand up for him to stop. “I don’t want to hear it.” I hate him, I hate what he has to say, I don’t want to hear him apologize and then start doing it again. I just want him to leave. If I listen to another sickly sweet word he says, I’m going to vomit.

He stops abruptly, and stands there for a moment as if trying to figure out what to do. Then he backs up and sits down on a desk, staring at me with his dark eyes. I wait for him to say something, but he stays silent.

I stare at him, my fingers curling into fists. What does he think I’m going to do, pretend he’s not there? I stand up and run towards the door, grabbing the handle and swinging it open. There. He got me out of the classroom, now the teacher will be happy. But my happiness isn’t his concern.

The moment I’m out of his sight, I break down. I fall against the wall, the world is spinning wildly around me, I can hardly stand. I would do anything to cry right now, but my eyes are completely dry. I struggle to breathe, I’m trembling violently. It’s over. It’s really over. But then again, it’s not.

I stumble towards the steps, running down them wildly and down the halls. Everyone is at dinner now, my dorm should be empty. I turn the corner and scan the halls, running to my door and throwing it open, collapsing on the bottom of the bunk bed. I have several hours before Marya finishes dinner.

I pull the crisp sheets over me, my skin is ice cold. I wait for warmth to spread up my body, but it never comes. I lie there for several minutes staring up at the fraying mattress above me with despair creeping over my skin. I’m sweating profusely, despite how cold I feel.

The boy still has not followed me.

I can’t lay there. My body won’t let me sit still anymore. I swing my feet over the side, and leap out of bed, hurrying to the window. Several people are playing games down below, but it’s mostly empty. I’m alone. I wanted to be alone.

The door flies open, and I swirl around in shock when I see who it is. It’s him again. It’s Joshua. I stumble backwards, I can’t do it. I can’t face him, can’t listen to his horrible efforts to control my life, to change my music. He must have seen me come in here.

“Alyssa-” he stammers, stepping towards me.

I back away, my hand brushing the window cell. “I don’t want to talk right now, Joshua,” I cry, pounding on the wall with my fist. “Whatever you have to say, please don’t.”

His face twists in strained anger, and he pushes towards me. “It’s not like that, Alyssa, I just want to help.”

“There’s nothing you can do,” I yell, stepping angrily him. “And will you please shut up and leave me alone, because we’ve already had this conversation and I’m sick and tired of repeating it.”

He sighs and stares at me, shaking his head slightly. “Yeah, you’re right, we have. Just...let me know if you ever want to talk about anything, okay?”

I don’t respond, because my reply is obvious enough. I never want to talk to him, never want to hear him try to push his way into my life again. I’m done with him. I don’t ever want to see him again.

He nods, and I think he’s trying to understand, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t understand a thing. He slowly slides the door closed, and pats his hand firmly against the door before I hear his footsteps walking briskly away.

I sink back against the wall, struggling for breath. “He’s gone now,” I whisper to myself. “He’s gone now.” I hope, I desperately hope, that he will be willing to make it stay that way. One more word from him and I know I’ll crack. It’s going to swallow me up.