He laid there in bed, tense, screaming out names and obscenities into a pillow that he clenched tightly in his arms. He cried out in pain, the doctors try sedating him but it turned out he was allergic to the medication. He underwent the operation awake, and hardly numb. Strapped to the table he bit all the way through the protective mouth guard and shattered a few teeth along the way; biting his lip till it bled and gushed the crimson essence of his life and pain. After the operation he was never the same; he'd be in bed in the middle of the night and have horrible nightmares followed by the haunting of phantom pain. There's nothing I can do but wake up in the night to his shrieks of agony and comfort him best I can, for not even the high dosage pain pills can dull the sharpness of the ghostly blades that cut through his skin without a trace of blood to be seen.
Now five years later the disease has come back, they say that the only thing they can do for him is to have another operation. He quickly refused and said that he'd rather die in the torture that he had endured for so many years than to renew the cycle. They that if he was lucky he might live for another five years. Lucky, lucky that he would have to go through five more years of this hellish terror? That's not luck, that's an inhumane anguish bestowed upon an innocent kid. He's only fourteen and he already wishes for death. Sometimes I think he has a better understanding of it all than I do. Yeah, he probably does.
I sit here next to his bed stroking his back gently hoping to give he some kind of comfort even though I know it might all be in vain. Then all the sudden he shifted his body so he could lie on his back, and with great tears in his eyes he looked at me and smiled. I knew in that instant what was about to happen. I held on to his hand tightly as he convulsed in a fit of pain until his body came to a somewhat sudden halt. I looked in his eyes as he looked at mine and smiled once more before he left this earth, free from the body that had caged him in such a grim torture chamber. I sit here thinking with misty eyes, that yes he indeed knew more in that last second of life than any other being on this planet. These tears of mine aren't of sadness nor joy, they are the droplets of wisdom that his life had left behind.