One week later - 6:30am

Strumming her guitar, Layleen sat on her bed singing loudly to her favourite song. She knew it was early, but there were rarely any days where she felt so good. Usally she would lay in bed all day feeling ill, but not today. It had been early a week she had been here, after being diagnosed with cancer, but she couldn't be less bothered. Her friends at the resturant had been pityfull, but not Lyaleen. She had been a little anoyed at the pity, she hated it.

Angela opened the door to Layleen's room, looking rather flustered. Her shift was due to end in about an hour, and she had been working all night. "Sorry to bother you, Miss Cartwright. Could you possibly keep the noise down? There have been complaints from the other patients next door."

Layleen stopped abrubtly. "I like singing this loud. I'd leave, but I kinda can't." she didn't mean to be rude, it was in her nature.

"Well for the benefit of the other patients, could you possibly avoid singing at this time of the morning," Angela said, in a polite tone, "Some are still trying to sleep, which they are unable to do when your playing your guitar and singing so loudly."

"I could probibly try and do as I have been all week by laying in bed ill, but I would much rather prefer to be playing my guitar." she smiled slightly. "In case you havent noticed this is my way of saying 'let me go home or this is hell'. But I guess they should have pity." Sighing, Layleen placed her guitar by the side of her bed. "When can I go home?" she asked.

"You can't go home," Angela said apologetically, looking at her with pity, "You've got terminal cancer, and making all that noise, ruining other patients quality of life isn't going to change that."

She shrugged slightly. "I guess I thought I could block out the world." Layleen muttered. "But really though, If I'm going to die, I'd much rather do it at home... alone." 'Where no one can hear me,' she thought.

"Miss Cartwright, Dr. Wilson said that you have to stay in hospital, were we can continue to administer the treatments to prolong your life for as much as possible," Angela said, keeping up the neutral tone and expression, "You've probably still got a good 6 months left, if you stay in Hospital."

"What treatment?!" said Layleen exasperated. "We've already esablished that it's untreatable!"

"With Chemotherapy we can slow down the spread of the tumour," Angela said, finding her ignorance a little bit irritating, "But yes, it is untreatable, but your life expectancy can be lengthened slightly."

"Why lengthen it." she replied shortly. "When I will only be in bed for the rest of it anyway." her eyes drifted towards the window and she murmered some lyrics. "So what good am I to you, If I can't be broken..."

"I'm sure your friends and family would appreciate you having longer, even if you don't," Angela said, really not in the mood to be dealing with the people in this sector, most of whom seemed to be chronically depressed because of the cancer, "And you get to live longer, that can hardly be a bad thing."

"Are you mocking me?" she asked turning back to her. "I'd much rather die."

"No! No, I'm not mocking you. I was just saying that a bit longer might be nice," Angela said uneasily, "If going home's what you really want, then you should discuss it with Dr. Wilson. Look at your options and all that."

"Sorry." replied Layleen. "I don't mean to be so rude. When can I see him?" she asked drawing her knees to her chest.