text: Textfreak1 That thing inside of me... 
   
   
     
   “My name? Paloma Elizabeth Turner. I am a seven years old, second grader and the best of my class. But that’s not a reason for my classmates to tease me under no circumstances. Actually I am quite popular and everybody likes me, even the teachers. ‘Your laughing is contagious,’ my mom says when I tell her how surprised I am again and again that there’s nobody who dislikes me. Liz Turner, that’s my mother, is a well- payed real estate agent. People all around the world come to her when they are searching for a dwelling place in New York City.  
   My father, Christian Turner, is the head of the famous New York Times. He actually likes this job, but he would like to avoid the ‘brown-nosers’ - his words not mine. Nevertheless at each end of the month he comes home with a pay check and a big smile on his face. My mother earned nearly as much as he does, but she is nine-month pregnant and can’t work any longer. They have even told me the gender: I’m getting a baby brother. Yesterday she went to the hospital. Apparently they need to get my brother out of my mom’s stomach, didn’t tell me the reason, though. The only thing I know is that I will have a little brother in just a few days. I’m the happiest girl in the world! 
   The last important thing I should mention is that the doctors detected a brain tumor in my head five months after I was born. They explained to my parents, who explained this to me when I was four, that it is a malignant tumor and I probably will live until my thirties tops when I’m in luck. You want to know my opinion on that? Well, what doesn’t kill you just makes you stronger! And I won’t let that thing inside of my head take over the control of my life - no. I have a great family, great friends and in a few days I’ll be a sister. I’m the happiest girl in the world!” One week until Christmas: 
   
  It was when the snow began to fall and the people became frantic, because Christmas was approaching, that Liz Turner gave birth to the latest citizen of New York. At six a.m. the so-far unnamed boy saw the light of day for the very first time. The people inside the delivery room went quiet as the boy did not instantly start crying. Wrapped around the baby’s neck the umbilical cord had put mother and father through a lot lately. They had to do a Cesarean delivery as fast as possible not to risk the newborn’s life. Eyes filled with tears Liz stared at the ceiling, praying to a God she hadn’t always believe in, to show mercy. After seconds of terror the boy finally started crying.  
   An hour away from the hospital in a big New Yorker apartment, Paloma dreamed of the day her parents had told her that she had cancer and how innocent and unknowingly she had been back then. Her reaction was predictable. She cried. Days afterwards she still cried a lot. And then she was tired of it. Paloma made her decision that she would accept the situation she was in and would make the best of it. As her mother offered her daughter to go and see a therapist she refused, because she needed to cope with the situation by herself. And she did. What her parents didn’t know, Paloma never told anybody about her illness, because she wanted to avoid the pitiful glances she would get from then on.  
   Then that dream vanished and little Paloma dreamed of the day her mother and father had told her that she would get a brother. First she thought that her mother only gained weight. But she was six. Now as a seven year old, feeling more mature than ever, she could only laugh about such ridiculous thoughts she once had. Secondly she thought about how much fun she would have with her brother and Paloma felt nothing but joy. When her parents saw that she was excited about having a sibling they decided to give her the task to find a suitable name. Extremely happy she spend the last few months before the delivery searching on the internet or reading books about boy’s names and there meanings. And the last thing Paloma dreamed before she woke up was the fact that she finally found a fitting name. 
   Dawn was breaking, but it wasn’t the luminous light of the sun covered behind grey clouds which made Paloma wake up. As she lay there in her wooden four-poster bed, her head resting on white and pink pillows, she felt something she hadn’t felt for years - and it terrified her. As she opened her tiny  
  blue eyes, the first thing she saw was the snow outside her window. Without averting her eyes from it, Paloma ran her little fingers through the long blonde hair and massaged her temples. Having a racking headache she sat up and moved to the edge of her bed. The light pink wall color hurt her eyes and she bend down to get her socks which were lying in front of her bed where she had taken them off before she went to sleep. Paloma, wearing a violet pyjama, walked through the room into her little bathroom with her hands attached to her temples.   
   Standing in front of the mirror she loosened her hands off her temples and began brushing her teeth. Thereby her tooth gap emerged. Two days ago the baby tooth fall out while Paloma was eating an apple. Of course the tooth fairy was really generous, due to the fact that it was her first one. She stopped brushing her teeth and spit the toothpaste, which tasted like strawberries, into the sink. ‘Tooth fairy, yeah right,’ she thought with a wide smile.  
  What her father didn’t know was when he explained to her what to do with her tooth little Paloma was afraid that the imagination of a stranger coming into her room at night , gave her a sleepless night. Pretending to be asleep she waited for the ‘tooth fairy’ to come, but in the end the only one who came was her father, replacing her tooth by money.  
   After combing her hair she got dressed and tied up her hair with a black hairbow fitting her white dress. Looking into the mirror she thought that she looked quite chic. Intuitively Paloma walked to the steamed-up window and glanced out of it.  
   New York, still asleep, was covered in a white veil of snow. Out of her window Paloma could see nothing but icy snowflakes falling down from the sky. Every now and then a car drove slowly through the deserted streets. Paloma loved snow and winter was her favorite season. She knew that some day she would die in winter and her grave would be covered with white snow flakes and beautiful flowers. Because she had a tumor she wasted more thoughts about death than other kids normally would at her age.  Breaking away from the beautiful scene out there the little child walked out of her room without turning around.  
   In the corridor her father stood in front of a mirror, wearing boots and a coat apparently ready to leave. As he noticed his little daughter standing in front of her room with the slight sunlight coming through the door at her back, Christian Turner said hastily: “Paloma hurry up your mother is waiting. She just called. We gotta go to the hospital. The baby arrived two hours ago.” 
   With her heart beating fast, she put on her boots and her black anorak in just a few seconds. A wave of happiness and a thrill of anticipation fulfilled her body. She had become a sister, finally. “Now what are you waiting for? Let’s go,” she opened the door and ran out of the apartment. Pressing the elevator button like mad she waited for her father impatiently. As the elevator approached so did her father and both got on. For Paloma everything seemed like a dream. She didn’t perceive the cool air in the underground garage whipping in her face as they got off the elevator. Nor did Paloma perceive the ride to the hospital which felt like minutes, although it lasted half an hour until they approached the snowy parking place in front of the Pure Spirit Hospital. 
   Opening the car door, Paloma felt a piercing pain which made her tremble as she got out of the car. Fast, she ran her glove-covered hand through her hair, because she didn’t want her father to be concerned. As Christian Turner walked straight towards the hospital entrance, petite Paloma stopped at a little hill of snow. She uncovered her hand and stuck it into the snow. First contact with snow always made Paloma smile.  
   Cautiously she lay her cold hand on her forehead and it gave her a comfortable feeling for a moment. She wished she could have enjoy that beautiful moment a little longer, but then reluctantly she walked into the hospital. 
   “There you are!” her father said when she approached. He took her uncovered hand and looked puzzled as it was cold and wet. “Played in the snow, I guess?” he said with a smile, because he knew  
  his daughter perfectly well. As she nodded he added. “I know that you like winter time and playing in the snow, but you may want to see your little brother now? The nice lady on the reception told me that your mother is still resting and we can’t see her at the moment, but we can go to the newborn nursery.” 
   For one moment Paloma was sad that she couldn’t see her mother and make sure that she was alright and suddenly she felt sick and like passing out any second. Fearing her father would see the slight panic on her face she turned her back on Mr. Turner. ‘Get a hold of yourself,’ she thought angrily. Closing her eyes she took one deep breath and faced her tall brown-haired father again.  
   “You can go. I have to use the bathroom first,” Paloma said, trying not to sound too suspicious.  
   “I can’t let you go on your own, Paloma-” 
   “Yes you can and you will. I am seven and more mature than an eight-year-old!” willing to have an argument, Paloma stared determinedly at her father.  To her own surprise he lay his hand on her shoulder and said in a deep voice: “The newborn nursery is on the second floor. Hurry up, I bet your brother wants to meet you.” 
   Astonished, Paloma watched her father adjusting his glasses and getting on the elevator. Christian Turner smiled at his daughter who was standing there motionless in the middle of the entrance hall and tapped on his watch with a finger (signalizing Paloma to hurry up) before the elevator door closed.         ‘To use the bathroom,’ was just an excuse to get away from her father. Quickly she ran to the reception where a thin, blond lady was chewing on a pen and staring quite bored at the ceiling.  
   “I’m sorry?” little Paloma said, but the nurse didn’t move. “I’m sorry?” she said a bit louder. Perplexed the young lady stared at her and stopped chewing on her pen. “Now look at you. Aren’t you adorable?” she squeaked and leant over the reception to get a closer look on Paloma. Not knowing how to respond petite Paloma ignored her and asked if she could get a piece of paper and a pen (luckily the nurse did not gave her the pen she had chewed on).  
   With every step Paloma’s headache got worse. Her hands and legs began to shake and she could barely move. She approached an elevator and pressed the button with shaky fingers. Her brain thumped against her skull and Paloma could not see clearly any longer. As the door opened, she stumbled alone into the small room and waited for the doors to close. As they did she fell on her knees and her hands tensed up. In one hand she held the pen tightly and in the other one the sheet of paper. Trying to relax she scribbled a word onto the sheet before she lost her conscience.   
   “For the first time in my life I felt free. Free of all sorrow caused by my illness and free of all thoughts I wasted when I imagined my death. And first and foremost I felt free of all the pitiful glances my family gave me, trying so desperately to hide them. Of course I know that my death will shutter their perfect world they rebuilt when they came to know about my illness, but with every chapter that ends a knew one begins: Mine has finally come to an end, but a new chapter has already begun and hopefully it won’t be haunted by sorrow as mine was. No, I wish the best for my little brother Jacob - it means ‘God will protect you,’ but in his case I will.” 
   
   
   Publication Date: August 26th 2011 https://www.bookrix.com/-textfreak1