House of Goths

Chapter 4

The next few days went by in a blur. With headaches and muscle pain throughout her feverish body, Becky came in and out of consciousness only long enough to use the bathroom, drink some water and take aspirins that had been kindly placed on the night table.

During those times of relative lucidity, she was aware of Kelley or Dorian's presence in her room, Kelley's most of all. She was pretty sure, he had even slept in there one night on the rickety chair by her mattress.

Somebody must have changed her sweaty sheets, at least, a couple of times. She vaguely recalled being carried and placed on a larger bed at one point. When she had woken up later, she was back in her recently refreshed bed.

Peeking under the top sheet, she realized in dismay that she was no longer wearing her original set of pyjamas. In fact, she was wearing a rather long, unfamiliar black t-shirt and nothing else!

Before she could get too upset over the unsettling fact, Becky fell back asleep. Once again, she forgot all her concerns.

***

"Just where do you think you two are going?" Crispin asked in a panic as Kell and Dorian made a break for the back door.

"We're going out for supplies. We're out of aspirin and tissues," Dorian explained, zipping up his knee-high black boots.

"Both of you? Together?" he asked, aghast. "Who's going to look after sleeping beauty while you're out galavanting?"

"Come on, man. I'm sure you can handle it. With any luck, she won't need anything for a while," Kelley said with an impatient frown. "Besides, Dorian and I need some air."

It was the honest truth. They had both been cooped up in the house all week, taking turns looking after their sickly houseguest.

Not that he had minded, really. In fact, he had gotten quite attached to the poor little thing, as sick as she was. There'd been times, during the seemingly unending malady when she had unconsciously cuddled into him, burrowed into his embrace with such... or never mind, he must be losing it. That's why he needed to get away for a little while. To clear his head.

"She better not need anything. For I haven't the time or patience for such matters," Crispin huffed.

"Don't be an ass, Crisp," Dorian lamented. "It's not that hard, really."

"Absolutely not! Not bloody likely!" Crispin scoffed defiantly as his housemates ignored him and clambered out the back door. Not acceptable! He would not play nursemaid. That particular role was not in his nature. She had better not want anything, or she would have to fend for herself!

Slowly gravitating towards the bottom of the stairs, he reluctantly listened for signs of life.

She had been sick long enough, he thought with a frustrated frown. A full week to be exact. She would have to get better soon. He had a mile long list of available lodgings lined up for her.

He held onto the banister, listening. Nothing, not a peep. Perhaps he should just check on her. If she was up, maybe it would be a good time to go over the list with her.

Hesitating, he took a step back and glanced at his reflection in the hallway mirror. Handsome, he thought to himself as he ran his manicured hands over his long dark mane. Too handsome to be locked up here at home, looking after a sickly mundane girl. He adjusted the ruffled cuffs of his black vintage dress shirt and did a little turn. It wasn't his fault that she couldn't appreciate his unique appearance.

Oh, yes, he had noticed the way she flinched in his presence. So what if he wasn't exactly the boy next door? Neither was Dorian or Kell for that matter yet she didn't flinch quite so much with them.