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Chapter Eight
Bitsy
In the days that followed my parents’ departure, Viper and I settled into a routine. The house felt quieter without them, but Viper’s unwavering presence brought a sense of stability to my life. We made it a point to update my parents regularly about my condition and the progress of my treatments, keeping them in the loop as best we could.
The targeted chemotherapy was taking its toll on my body, and I found myself grappling with the relentless side effects. Nausea, fatigue, and hair loss became my daily companions, and it was Viper who stood by me through it all. He would hold me when the sickness overcame me, offering soothing words and gentle comfort.
When the day came that I had to shave my head, I was inconsolable. I know that it’s just hair and I can’t really explain why it hurt so much to shave off the last few strands I had, but it was hard. The evening that Viper shaved my head, we got a visit from Ghost, Steel, Blaze, Venom, Ma, and Pops. They all walked into the house with a huge smile on their faces and completely bald heads. Even Viper shaved all of his hair off.
Never in my life had I cried so much as I did in that moment. Even Ma had her beautiful locks completely shaven. I’ll never forget that day for as long as I live. I even demanded a picture of all of us together to hang on the wall.
It hangs proudly over the fireplace.
One evening, as I lay on the couch, feeling weak and exhausted, Viper sat beside me. His fingers traced patterns on my bare scalp where my hair once flowed. “You’re beautiful, Bitsy,” he whispered, his voice filled with admiration and love.
I managed a weak smile, grateful for his unwavering support. “Thank you, Viper. I’m lucky to have you.”
He leaned in and kissed my forehead gently, his lips warm against my skin. “I’m the lucky one, baby.”
As the days turned into weeks, Viper continued to be my rock, providing emotional and physical support. He would cook comforting meals for me, and we would share quiet moments together, finding solace in each other’s company.
One evening, I sat on the porch, staring out at the stars, lost in thought. Viper joined me, his strong presence a comforting anchor. “What are you thinking about, baby?” he asked, his voice soft.
I turned to him, my eyes filled with emotion. “I’m thinking about how much my life has changed since I met you, Viper. You’ve been my strength through all of this.”
He took my hand, his gaze unwavering. “We’ll get through this together, Bitsy. You’re not alone in this fight.”
I leaned in and kissed him, the connection between us deepening with each passing day. In that moment, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, I had found something worth fighting for, someone who would stand by my side through the darkest of storms.
As we watched the stars twinkle in the night sky, I felt a renewed sense of hope, knowing that with Viper’s love and support, I could weather any storm that came my way.
“Lost in thought, little one,” Viper asks, pulling me from my memories.
“A little,” I say softly. “I’ve been thinking about the good memories these past weeks. I don’t want to ever forget.”
“We will have so many good memories that it will be impossible to remember them all,” he smiles.
“I’ll take that challenge,” I say.
I’ll never take my good memories for granted again. If cancer takes away my body, my life, I want to go out remembering everything about Viper and his family.
“Come on, baby,” he says, lifting me into his arms. “You’re sleeping with me from now on. No more sleeping in the damn guest room. You are mine, this house is ours, and you will sleep in our bed.”
I sigh and lean into his comforting arms.
I don’t argue. I don’t want to. I want Viper to be mine. I want my future to be his.
“I love you, Viper,” I admit for the first time. “But please don’t say it back. Not yet.”
“Why?” he asks, sounding genuinely confused. “Why should I wait?”
“Because I want you to get to know me without the sickness,” I admit. “I want you to see me for me. Not for this frail version of myself. I want you to look at me when the cancer is gone and know without a shadow of a doubt that you love me before you say it.”
He doesn’t say anything as he walks us up to his bedroom. After putting me on the bed he leaves and returns with my nighttime medication. Without a word, he hands me the pills and a glass of water.
When I’m finished, he grabs the glass and takes it to his dresser, placing it on top before opening a drawer.
“From the moment I met you, before I knew you had cancer, I just knew that we were meant to be together,” he says from his dresser. “I could tell within an hour that you were a strong-willed, stubborn, hard-headed woman. But that made me crave you even more. This cancer isn’t causing my feelings for you to grow, you are, baby. I don’t take care of you because I feel sorry for you, I take care of you because I love you.”
