Wendy came to my office wailing one day. A few months after the murder case.

I put my papers aside quickly and asked her what happened. Her eyes were puffed.  Tears smeared all over her cute face, “Sit down and take a breather first.” 

She took some tissues from my desk and hyperventilated.

I tried to read from her eyes. She looked angry, disappointed, pissed, depressed.

“Did, hm, someone on the other hand talk to you again?”

“No......” She shook her head and wiped her tears.

“What is it about? You just came back from the workshop, right?” I poured her a glass of newly-brewed tea.

“Thanks.” She took from it with both of her hands. 

And I patiently waited.

“Irene talked to me today.” She stared at her tea dully.

“Well, that’s good-” 

“She told me about her condition too,” She looked up and smiled bitterly. “Do you know why she has autism? Do you know?”

She got agitated, which was rare. Hot tea spilled on her hands, yet she didn’t seem to notice.

I shook my head in response.

“She has cancer. She has freaking cancer. She is dying.” Wendy laughed and cried at the same time. 

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Wendy.” I didn’t know what to say or do, so I gave her the warmest embrace I could offer.

“Why? Why her?” She hit my back with her tiny fists instead of hugging me back, which I didn’t mind at all if that made her feel better. “Doctors said she may have one year left, at most.” 

“Stay with her. Don’t give up.” 

“But she gave up. She told me to leave.”

“You aren’t the obedient type as far as I know.” I tried to brighten up the mood.

“So I should just keep following her around like a puppy?” Wendy sobbed, but had easened up a bit already.

“I would if I were you. You care for her, right? You don’t wanna lose this friend, I suppose?”

She nodded and sniffled, like a child.

“Which cancer is she diagnosed with?” I asked while she was calming down.

“I don’t know. Some kind of lung cancer. She said she has it since she was born. She asked me to leave since she will be dying soon. She'd rather die without anyone mourning for her.” 

I kept quiet as Wendy went on to tell me stories about Irene. Hearing how Wendy had grown so fondly for the girl, I sincerely wished my associates could figure a way to help this poor girl.

-

I had not seen Irene for a whole week after she confessed to me that she had cancer.

No wonder she was so pale.

I missed her. I went to her group. I even went to her hospital. Still not a single sign of her.

I knew she must be very lonely all these time. 

I still got those voice with me. And she was all by herself.

Doctor Temperance said I should reach out to her and stay by her side. I knew, but how?

Funny how “temperance” means self-control or moderate. He always knew what to say or do. He was like a father to me.

I hopelessly huddled up against my pillows one night. Then, I heard a voice.

“You asleep?” It sounded like a woman.

I got scared for a second. I was afraid that was Irene.

“Apparently not. You won’t be talking to me if I am.” I mumbled to the thin cold air.

“Are you upset?” She sounded worried.

“Yeah, you don’t know anything about me anyhow.” Brushing her off with the coldest tone I could pull off, I tossed and turned. Even though I knew she would not just go away.

“Hey, young girl. You still have a long way to go. Why the long face?”

“I do, but my friend don’t.”

“Oh…… May I know why?”

“Cancer. And she has autism because of that.” My bed sheet got soaked with my tears.

“Oh dear, how old is she?”

“21, only.” 

“My goodness. So that’s why you are so sad?”

“And she pushed me away.”

“People can never accept all these truths and facts if they aren’t willing to. Like me. I had been wandering around and then I realized I no longer belonged to this world. And, I saw you.”

“What facts does she not want to admit?” I buried myself in the covers.

“She cares for you. She cares for you so she doesn’t want you to see her die.” Her voice was still so clear even when she was on the other side.

“How do you know?”

“I was in her shoes. I got an idiopathic dilated cardiomyopathy and I needed a heart transplant. I was lucky that I lived to my 40s and got 2 kids. I once tried to turn down my husband but then he told me to live my life the fullest. Don’t be chained by the sickness you have, he said. Embrace it and learn to live with it.”

“So, how’s your husband and kids?”

“They knew it was coming.”

“Thank you for talking to me.”  

“Me too. I can talk to no one but you.”

“People think I am crazy because of it and here I am.” I faced the ceiling. 

“Hey, we need you. As much as she does.”

-

Wendy eventually found me at the fast food shop.

“Do you wanna die?” She just barged in and shouted at me. I, however, smiled and let her drag me along.

And we went back to the asylum she was in. It was more comfortable than the hospital, as it was not that close to death. Wendy led me by the hand. Her palms were warm. They were like double the temperature of mine.

She took me to her room. Her room was nice too. Nicer than those in the hospitals. People in the hospital thought we were all going to die soon. So no need for the money.

Sitting on her bed, she gestured me to do the same. I hesitated and sat on a chair by her desk instead. And I saw her frown. I knew I had made her sad.

“Don’t run away from me. I have seen more than you can ever think of.” Wendy muttered, looking down.

But I still caught that look from her eyes and I only saw sadness.

“You know I can hear 'things', right ? And talk with dead people and .” She slowly lied down, pillowing her head on one arm.

I nodded repeatedly. I wanted to say something but I just could not get the words together.

“And my right ear is deaf. I did it myself.” She stated that as if it was nothing. 

I was shocked. I didn’t know. I never really noticed.

“I was so annoyed that I stabbed it with a needle. So stupid, ain’t it? But now it still receives well in the underworld apparently.” She started giggling.

I could not tell if she was laughing at herself or being so frustrated.

Then, she turned and stared at me. Like two knives piercing right through me, my everything. 

“So you can call me a disabled. How people see me, is a both mentally and physically disabled useless brat. People like me should die and people like you should not.”

“You don't” Words finally escaped from my lips.

“Eh?” She seemed surprised that I spoke.

“You should not die. No one should die......”

“So do you.” She cracked a smile, finally. 

I sealed my lips again. I had taken the bait. She hopped off her bed and kneeled before me, taking my hands in hers once again. I felt warm. I felt safe. Every time.

“Live your life. Be selfish for one time. Enjoy the time you have.” 

“How?” I mumbled. I couldn’t speak so loud or my lungs would collapse.

“Stop living alone. There’re people who would care for you. No one deserve to die alone.”

“Like who?” There was a part of me that melted.

“Like me.” 

It was the most beautiful words I had ever heard.