LIMINAL || 𝙅𝙖𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙧 𝙃𝙖𝙡𝙚 [1]

𝟙𝟟 | *𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙* 𝕚'𝕞 𝕤𝕚𝕔𝕜

There were only a few things I was aware of between the hours of four that evening and six the next morning when my alarm went off: first, that my migraine was still sticking around; second, that pain had spread to the rest of my body, and third, that it was impossible to breathe through my nose. It had been my alarm that'd woken me up at the same time as usual, but instead of hopping up and getting in the shower, I hit the SNOOZE button and rolled over, back to the window. The next time I woke, the walls of my room were dimly illuminated by weak sunlight filtering through the heavily clouded sky. The rushing static noise of rain splattering against the roof was punctuated by thunder rumbling every few minutes. Two more pills, the rest of the water in my glass, and a glance at the clock.

12:06 pm

My cell phone screen lit up with a new message from Angela, who must have just gotten to lunch.

Jess said she waited 20 minutes for you this morning. Are you okay?

The screen's backlight, though faint, was a jarring change from the shadows of my room. I squinted and typed back a short response.

Yeah, I feel like I've been hit by a truck.

Her reply was almost immediate.

Oh no! I hope you feel better! Let me know if you need anything.

My teeth felt slimy and rough from not being brushed. It was the one thing that bothered me most from being in bed all morning. I could survive without a shower, but at the very least needed to brush my teeth and pee. When I extracted my legs from the warm cocoon of blankets, the cold air sent my nerve endings into an angry frenzy. Every part of my skin hurt from touch and cold, even the lightest brush against the door frame. The hall bathroom was only a couple of feet from my room, but the distance stretched on as I shuffled. One look at myself in the mirror and I knew that I was sick sick. Not a cold or the sniffles — something a little more serious. I didn't dare turn on the overhead light, knowing it would exacerbate my migraine. When I got back to my room and crawled into bed, I thought about the loaded pistol in Cara's room that I'd told Charlie about, and how it might be my only defense should someone actually try to harm me while I'm laid up in bed. I was an easy target without it, and a slightly less easy target with it, yet I couldn't bring myself to get out from under the covers again. Instead, I pulled them up to my chin and closed my eyes. Whatever monsters were roaming through Washington would just have to stay away.

☽●☾

No less than thirty minutes later, I'm stirred awake by the sound of the front door opening. It's the monsters I thought as I lay in bed, blanket covering my head, and waited for whoever it was to come eviscerate me. I should have gotten the gun. Maybe in death, my head wouldn't hurt. There was a soft knock against the door frame, then whoever it was called out my name.

"Collins?"

I'd know that voice even on death's door. It's...

"Jasper?" I answered, then dissolved into a fit of coughing. Just add it to the current symptom list, along with the migraine, body aches, congestion, and fatigue. He poked his head through the doorway, then strode in as if he did it all the time. I would've been happy to see him if I weren't feeling like shit.

"You look like hell," he said, and sat just at the edge of the bed, then reached over and placed a hand on my forehead. I didn't bother pulling away from the touch of his icy skin.

"Jesus, your hands are freezing," I mumbled and buried my face deeper into the fuzzy blanket. A strand of my bed-head hair tickled my nose, reminding me that it was probably looking like a rat's nest given that there'd been no shower earlier.