Hannah

Hannah, could never remember a time when she wasn’t ill. The doctors had tried all sorts of stuff, and at times she had rallied. She was optimistic to begin with, but now she was just tired, and even at the age of eleven, she knew her life was nearly over. Her mum was staying over a lot more now, and the steady stream of friends and relations just told her what she already knew. She wondered if tonight was the night she would go to sleep and never wake up again. Her mum was beside her, fussing as mummies do. Hannah, could see it in her eyes, though, her mum knew like she knew, and words didn’t matter anymore. She wanted to thank her mum for being by her side the last two years; the strain was showing and Hannah thought she deserved a break. Hopefully, tonight would bring her peace. 

Hannah muttered under her breath. Goodbye, mum, and slowly drifted off to sleep.

It was the shaking that woke her. A man dressed all in white was apoligising to her, explaining the mistake. They didn’t happen often, thankfully, but when they did, it was his job to fix them. Was there anything he could do that would smooth things over? Hannah was a little confused, so she explained that there was nothing he could do; she was dying. No, that was our mistake, an oversight. You’ll wake up fine in the morning, and you can even go back to school on Monday. Hannah explained that she didn’t have any hair to go back to school with. How much hair do you need, the man in white asked. It used to be down to my bottom, Hannah explained.

Okay, I’ll do that for you. What colour would you like? I know it’s in my notes somewhere, but tonight has been a bit hectic. 

Hannah told him, blond, and watched as he placed his hands on her head, and then disappeared as quickly as he came.

Judy had worked in the cancer ward for ten years now, and every death still tore her apart. It was a strange world to stay friends with people who had lost loved ones, but she would never change it. She took Hannah’s mum in a coffee, and they talked over the final stages of Hannah’s short life, whilst consoling her as much as she possibly could. She would pop back in the morning, before she went off shift.

Hannah woke up, realising she still had another day in this world. Her mum was fast asleep, so she quietly said. Morning mum. It was then the mad dream came back to her, the man in white.

If only, she thought to herself, my long blond hair down to my bottom.

It was nurse Judy who came in and was looking at her a bit weirdly. That’s a nice wig, Hannah. Hannah began to feel her head, and she felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time. At that point, her mum woke up, and she started looking at her. That’s nice, love, did Judy give you that? 

Judy looked at her. I thought you had put it on during the night.

They both looked at Hannah, and asked the same question. Where did the wig come from? It’s not a wig, Hannah, explained. The man in white said they had made a mistake, so he put my hair back and said I could go back to school on Monday.

Judy looked at Hannah’s mum. I’ll need to phone the Police, something's not right here. It was Hannah who interrupted them both. I’m going to need new clothes and a school uniform that fits me, so we need to get a move on. Judy moved to the top of the bed and pulled at the wig. 

Hannah screamed! Do you know how painful that was! How would you feel if I pulled your hair?

Judy was totally dumbfounded and began to examine Hannah, like she’d never been examined before. Her vitals were fine, her complexion was like an eleven-year-old should be. She disconnected the drip and told her to walk about. Hannah’s mum followed her, expecting her to collapse at any minute, then fainted. Judy caught her just as she was falling, hoping Hannah wasn’t about to join her. Hannah couldn’t believe her mum could be so embarrassing, helping Judy to lay her on the bed. Judy took Hannah’s hand and asked her about the man in white and if he did anything to her. Hannah, explained that he shook her awake and told her a mistake had been made, and he was here to fix her. I mentioned to him, I needed hair, and he put his hand on my head and said. That’s fine.

That’s the thing I don’t understand, Hannah. Your hair wasn’t blond when you came in here; it was brown. I know that, Judy, but for the last two years I’ve been reading magazines, and they always bang on about blond girls having more fun, so when the man in white asked me what colour I would like, I just thought to myself.  Blond it is, girl.