Wanting My Assistant

Chapter 49

   The soft stroke of Dawson's hand on my back just makes me cringe more as my stomach cramps, another wave of nausea hitting me as I double over the toilet and vomit again. My stomach cramps again as I sit back on my ankles, groaning at the pain in my stomach. I grasp the edge of the toilet, bowing my head down again, throwing up some more. With a gentle hand, Dawson holds my hair back, the other stroking my back softly, trying to soothe the horrible stabbing pain in my stomach.

   It's been like this for two days. The horrible, stabbing pain in my stomach and uncontrollable nausea.

   Snowball rubs at my leg, meowing and purring like he's trying to soothe my pain as well. It doesn't work as I cough up some more vomit. I groan as the nausea passes finally, leaving me dizzy and lightheaded as I slump back against Dawson's sturdy body. His hand lowers my hair, sliding a hand across my stomach, rubbing soft circles as my stomach cramps again.

   A painful groan leaves me and Dawson lets out a sigh, pressing his lips to my sweaty forehead, "I'm so sorry, my darling," he whispers, taking a free hand to wave air onto my face, "I hate seeing you in pain."

   Snowball meows, pressing up against my numb fingers, purring loudly, trying to help. He's gotten bigger since we left and got back, not a horrid amount, but just enough for me to notice a difference.

    "Help me take my clothes off," I groan, grasping at the cotton draped over my body, another wave of heat traveling up my body, making me sweat, "I'm sweating," Dawson doesn't hesitate before pulling the cotton t-shirt over my head carefully, tossing it away on the bathroom floor before his cold hands press against my bare skin again.

   He's been sitting in this bathroom with me for twenty minutes now, holding my hair and caressing my back as I puke my guts out. Not once has he complained about it. Just held me, keeps repeating that he loves me, and never leaves.

   He presses a large hand to my forehead, tsking as he pulls it away, "You need to take a cold shower, your temperature is getting too high, it's starting to worry me."

A sigh leaves me, one of my hands gripping onto the toilet edge as another harsh cramp spreads through my stomach and I groan.

Dawson sighs, helping me lean against the toilet before stand up and heading over to the shower, turning the dial cold and turning his back to it as it runs. While he's watching me, another sharp cramp and bile rises to my throat, I shoot up and gasp and cough as I vomit some more.

Dawson curses and slides to his knees beside me, gathering my hair and resuming the soft strokes on my back.

I haven't been able to keep any food down since my parents house and Dawson keeps making me drink to make sure I stay hydrated. I can't believe he hasn't ditched me yet, leaving me to fend for myself.

After a few minutes of breathing heavily over the bowl of the toilet, I sink back to the floor, leaning against Dawson for support.

His touch is gentle and patient, unlike anything I've ever experienced, "Do you want me to help you with your shower, or do you want me to go make some soup?"

Soup sounds delicious. Maybe I'll be able to keep that down? I nod my head at the word soup and he smiles sadly, pecking my forehead before slowly helping me to my feet. I keep a hand clamped down on my stomach, gritting my teeth with the cramps and twists in my abdomen.

Food poisoning.

Dawson took me to the doctors the second I started throwing up, they did some tests, and found out that I got food poisoning.

Only after I ate food from my parents home.

But only I'm sick. Not Dawson. Just me.

I think they poisoned me on purpose. Just to watch Dawson leave me.