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| And, Fall He Did. Scribbles Challenge |
He stirred and instantly felt the now familiar sensation in his throat. Shit. He was only able to take a shallow breath and heard a wheezing sound in his exhale. It had not taken long for the virus to begin working on his already weak lungs. He rolled onto his back and took a mental note of the various aches, pains and sensations in his body. Shit, it all hurt. He felt like he was slowly dying. Yesterday, he'd wanted to die and would have welcomed death. This shit had to end.
Everyone had told him that when this particular flu hit, it hit hard and fast. This flu didn't fuck around, it went from A to Z and beyond in no time flat. They had been right. This flu had started out with symptoms of a scratchy throat, runny nose and muscle aches in the morning and an hour later, he was vomiting and running to the toilet with violent bouts of diarrhea. He cursed the mother fucker who had infected him.
He knew it sounded nuts, cursing made him feel better, kind of in control, although he knew he wasn't in control of a thing right now. This virulent monster was a mean SOB and would not leave until it had finished ravaging his body. Hey, it could be worse. It always could. This could be some fucking Ebola virus or the one that causes you to bleed through every orifice in your body. Small blessings, he supposed.
He threw off the covers and seconds later, shivered.
"Hot, cold, make up your damn mind!" he yelled.
He was talking to the virus, but wasn't sure, really. It seemed his body was not his own. He had been dealing with the virus for four days now and pain now had an identity. His body nothing, but the host.
Coughing to clear his lungs of phlegm only met with wracking pain. He clutched his chest and let out a low moan as he sat up in bed. He had barely slept and now, it was time to get up. Grabbing a tissue out the box on his bedside table, he spit out a bit of mucus into the tissue. Upon examining the sputum, he noticed that it was greenish yellow. It suprised him that there was only a small amount of phlegm in tissue, every cough felt like his lungs were coming out through his mouth.
He coughed again and felt the urge to defecate. He ran into the bathroom, barely making it onto the toilet seat. His head throbbed. But, relief was short-lived and he grabbed the trash can and vomited into it. Jesus. He tried remembering how it felt to be good and well, but had trouble remembering.
He wiped his mouth with his hand and stumbled back to his bed. Falling in, he grasped at the blankets and threw them back on him. The shivering began again and he huddled under his covers wishing he had another ten blankets on top of him. The room smelled of vomit and sweat. Stale. Was this what death smelled like?
Oh, yeah. The last thing he remembered was Amy walking out the door, suitcase in hand. She was gone. They had fought and she had left, for good she had said. Talk about bad timing. He had always had such bad timing. If he had known this shit was coming his way, he would have waited to say the things he had said to her! He didn't mean half the stuff he told her. She was too good for him. He deserved this flu, really.
Too late now. Amy was gone and there was no one left to help him. He was alone with the Beast. He looked around the room and wondered if he should open the heavy drapes to let in some sunlight. Maybe opening the window a crack for some fresh air would help, but he couldn't lift his head off the pillow.
Amy. No longer would Amy lie beside him. No longer would he feel her soft strokes on his back or her hands on his face. He had gone too far this time. He missed Amy, but put thoughts of her out of his head. He had to focus on beating the demon virus.
He had forgotten to ask his friends how long this shit lasted. A week? Ten days? He vowed to call Amy as soon as humanly possible. He didn't have the strength for that right now, but he sure would love it if she'd call. His phone had remained silent. Not a soul had called him. No one had called to check on him nor had his office called him back after he told them he was down for the count. His office mates were all dropping like flies.
He suddenly felt very alone. No one cared. Not only had he fallen sick, it seemed he had fallen from grace, too.
The End
Ellie2008
November 2009
** Yes, I combined Challenges #50 and #51! So, sue me!
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Posted by Ellie2008 on 2009-11-06 10:07:08 | Rating: | Views: 50
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