Slipping Away From This World

Chapter 3

I got even sicker as the days progressed. More healers were sent in to try to cure me, but nothing seemed to work. I tried to sleep most of the time, trying to escape the terrible feeling inside me, but all of my efforts to sleep were to no avail. I couldn't fall asleep. I just laid there, curled up and trembling uncontrollably. Isabel told me more stories everyday, trying to calm me. I began to notice that even Isabel kept distance between me and her, scooting her chair farther away from my bed than normal.

I felt as if I was being abandoned by them. They didn't want to be near me. I make feeble attempts at pushing the thoughts away, but they always lingered. I was soon pestered by another voice in my mind. It was deep inside me, never speaking too frequently, but it didn't need to. One whisper of, You're going to die, and I was in deep despair. I was slowing drowning in my own thoughts and anxious emotions, slowly pulled to the bottom. Everyday never seemed to end. All I did was vomit, call out for someone, asking them to clean me, refuse food, and attempt to sleep. I wanted it to end.

Ada had come by a few times to visit me, sitting next to my bed, staring at my face with concern. She never said much. She watched me, unsure of what to do. Her presence wasn't comforting, but I was glad for the gesture.

Almar had visited me once. He started ranting about the customers and how Ada kept botching up the simplest of jobs. He sounded rather agitated. By the end of the one-sided conversation, I concluded that he just needed someone to listen to him vent about his job. Still, I was glad to hear that the tavern was just as functioning as ever. While it was reassuring that I didn't have to come back to work while the whole building was in disrepair, I realized that I didn't have a large impact on the tavern. It made my heart sink, but I brushed the thought off. I told myself that once I recovered, I wouldn't feel so anxious and worthless all the time, but I knew that getting better was unlikely. It was disheartening to come to terms with, but I knew very well that there was a chance that I would die.

One night, I realized that I had taken a turn for the worst. I threw up more than usual, and my vision was incredibly hazy. I groaned in desperation the whole day. Another woman had gone looking for a healer from another town, trying to find one who was willing to try to heal me after so many had already tried. Judging by her absence, she hadn't found one by then.

The strangest part of me getting worse was the new things I sensed. Starting that day, I picked up a strong, lemony scent. It was a repugnant scent, and I had no idea where it had come from. I asked Rose, who claimed she couldn't smell anything. I also started to notice a strange, consistent clicking noise. Again, no one had noticed it. I sighed and decided to try to ignore it.

That night, sleep had come a little easier to me. I fell asleep quickly, drifting off into a dreamless slumber. I woke up in the middle of the night, shaking and trembling. Luckily, it wasn't as severe as it usually was, which imbedded a drop of hope inside me. I weakly lifted my head, trying to call out for someone to help me, but I couldn't speak. My chest felt too tight, and my voice came out as nothing more than a choppy breath.I started to twitch violently. I squeezed my eyes shut, cringing as shudders racked my whole body. I clutched onto the bedsheets, my fingers digging into the thin bedding.

A smooth, soft hand started to rub my forehead, a soothing "shhh" escaping their lips. They lifted my head up, propping up my head on their arm. They gently pried my mouth open with their fingers. They drew their fingers back from my mouth, but soon returned, placing something bitter on my tongue. They tipped my head back. I opened one eye, using all my strength to do so. My eyes widened in fear.

There, on my bed, sat the woman. Her brown hair was tangled and frizzy, her nightgown covered in dark, dirty spots. I tried to call out, but she shut my mouth and covered it. The substance she placed in my mouth had gone down my throat, small bits lingering in my throat, letting a bitter taste spread across my mouth. I started to fidget, trying to hit her and push her away, but I didn't have enough strength to do so. Her black eyes looked shiny, tears welling up in the sockets. She stroked my face with a single grey finger.