Never Give Up

• Skye Ziersch, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2017

I looked at the bunch of pictures that were in an old Anzac biscuit tin, labelled ‘Megan and Ben’s stuff!’ A t tear rolled down my face, as I quickly wiped it off with my left, tattooed, wrist. I am Megan Cartly I am 16 years old and this is my story.
I walked into the bright, colourful hospital room that stood before me. I was visiting my boyfriend of two years, Benjamin Alltori, who was sitting in a chair with an I.V drip in his arm. ‘’Hey babe,’’ I said to him, dropping my designer handbag and pulling a chair to sit next to him. ‘’All right Ben, you know the drill, just wait until the machine beeps and then call me,’’ the nurse said, tightening the drip and walking off to another patient. ‘’How are you?’’ I asked, stroking his sweaty face, and taking his contact glasses. ‘’I am all right, just a bit sick,’’ Ben joked and laughed. ‘’How was school?’’ Ben asked, changing the subject as normal whenever I mentioned how he was. ‘’Schools good, Miss Vallest got engaged and Ally’s pregnant,’’ I blabbed on. Suddenly the machine starts beeping and the same nurse, comes over and takes the drip out. Once the drip was off, I told Ben to wait outside for me while I chatted to the nurse. ‘’How long does he have left?’’ I asked, raising my left brown eyebrow. ‘’It is hard to tell, sweetheart.’’ She paused before writing some things down. ‘’He could have a week, a month or even two to three days left,’’ the nurse replied, rubbing my shoulder, to show sympathy. ‘’All right.’’ I said sadly and walked out of the room.

A couple of weeks passed and before I knew it, Ben had passed away, at the hospital in my arms after losing his battle to cancer and the chemo did not help. I looked in my old, rectangular shaped mirror, looking at my black, elegant funeral dress that I was wearing. ‘’Megan,’’ my mum said, knocking at my door, that was full of Kayne West posters and photos of my friends and I. ‘’you look beautiful!’’ my mum whispered, giving me a hug and kiss as I smiled back. ‘’The limo’s here,’’ she warned me, leaving my room to leave me in peace. ‘’Thanks for letting me know,’’ I shouted softly, putting a bobby pin in my braid that lead to my bun and walking off.

At Ben’s funeral, many people were there, giving his family and me sympathy. Once the service began, I said my speech, teary eyed and I sang his favourite song and the song that we first kissed too, Thinking Out Loud. A couple of weeks after I got a tattoo on my wrist, a cross and it reminds me of him.

Now I am 18 years old and I think about Ben all the time, Im also an aunty and I am at University studying childcare/

I still remember the last words Benjamin Alltori said to me:
‘’Never give up your dreams, I love you Megan Cartly!’’