hands off my heart || n.h au

s e v e n

Jena's phone is ringing but she can't seem to find it. With her eyes firmly closed, she fumbles around for it but comes up empty. It's not on her nightstand and it's not on her bed, and because moving is the last thing she wants to do, she brings the blanket up to her head. It does little in muffling the sound, but enough to lull her back to sleep.

Sleep has never come this easy for her even when she's bone-tired and now that it does, she welcomes it with open arms.

Jena doesn't know how long she stays asleep but when her phone starts ringing again — that damn thing won't stop ringing — she feels even more tired than she was a few minutes or hours ago. Her entire body hurts as though she was hit by a baseball bat — her head is pounding, her throat feels raw, and both her chest and legs are heavy.

As Jena tries to make sense of what's happening to her body, the ringing noise stops. Silence wraps around her like a warm blanket and once again, she feels herself drifting and drifting, until she's wrenched back to consciousness by the sound of her phone ringing.

A disgruntled groan leaves her raw throat. Jena rolls over to her side, wincing as jolts of pain courses through her at the slightest move. She finds her phone eventually, tucked beneath her pillow, still ringing as she holds it in her hand. It takes her longer than usual to read the name on the screen as she's seeing double of everything and when she finally makes out the name — it's Niall — her phone goes black. She must have forgotten to charge it.

She throws her phone to the empty side of her bed and throws an arm over her eyes. She tries to go back to sleep, but now that she's awake she's painfully aware of her need to go to the bathroom. The last thing she wants is to wet her own bed so she forces herself to get up and make her way to the bathroom. It's a surprise that she doesn't trip over her own feet given how shaky and heavy her legs are.

After washing her face in the sink, she takes a look in the mirror and is taken aback by the reflection that meets her. She looks awful — her bangs are sticking to her forehead, her cheeks are flushed and the dark circles under her eyes are so prominent she looks as though she hasn't slept in days when she's pretty sure sleeping is all she's done.

As she braces herself against the sink, her entire body screaming for her to get back to bed, one thought stands out to her: Niall's right. I am sick.

She can't remember the last time she fell sick, but she remembers having her parents around to look after her. She's a grown woman but the moment she falls sick, she's five again and needs to be reminded of when to take the meds and she needs to be forced to eat. Otherwise, she'd be content with spending the day and night in her bed until she feels like a person again.

Pushing herself off of the sink, she stumbles back to her bed, burrowing herself under her blanket.

Jena's about to tumble back into a dreamless sleep when she hears noises coming from her living room. No, not noises, she thinks, someone's knocking on her door. Pounding, more like.

Then she thinks she hears someone calling her name and when that voice grows more and more urgent by each second, the fog in her brain clears just enough for her to realise that someone is at her door. And that this isn't a dream.

Jena gets up from her bed, dragging her feet out of her room and across the living room — her flat has never felt bigger than it does at the moment — and when she gets to the front door, she stares at the lock. 

The pounding starts again, startling her, followed by, "Jena? Are you in there?"

I am, she wants to answer.  But the sound that comes out of her throat doesn't even resemble those two words.