monster

8

The illness is getting worse as his arms is beginning to deformed and fall off.

Lincoln begins to be self conscious about his appearance which worried his family.

Lincoln had let Lisa know what he currently looks like, helping him to find a cure.

Lisa's multiple tests had left Lincoln extremely tired. Luckily, none of them had been terribly painful, and they were mostly non-invasive. The worst part had been taking the blood samples, but even that wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. Still, seeing so many blood in a recipient had left him quite nervous. As soon as she was done doing her initial examinations, Lisa hurriedly kicked Lincoln out of her room so she could get to work. He assumed he couldn't really help her, so he didn't complained and went back to his own room.

As soon a he sat on his bed he realized he was feeling really tired. His arms felt like they were made of lead, so heavy that he could barely lift them, and he thought that his joins could use some WD-40. Lisa had warned him that he might feel a little numb after the blood extraction, so maybe that was it. Or maybe it was the fact that he had had one of the worst days of his life.

Whatever it was, he just laid on his bed over his blankets, put his head on his pillow and closed his eyes. He breathed in and out a couple of times and he soon fell asleep, finally having some well deserved rest in a dreamless nap.

Even if it was just a nap, Lincoln slept through it like a bear in winter. He wouldn't fully remember it when he'd wake up a couple of hours later, but he was slightly aware that during his rest he had been visited by some of his sisters. He seemed to remember seeing Leni, that Lori had kicked Lola out of his room when the younger one tried to wake him up, and even at some point he'd opened his eyes only to find Lynn, kneeling on the floor next to his bed, looking at him with her eyes full of tears. He was so tired that the only thing he could do was just grab her hand before falling asleep once again.

He didn't woke up until a few hours later. Those little accidents that had interrupted his sleep were now strange memories that faded away with every second he was awake. The first thing he noticed was that he was alone in his room, which seemed odd, since he had the feeling that he'd been with someone else. The second thing he noticed was that someone had taken the time to delicately remove his shoes from him, change his jeans for the bottom part of his pajamas and tuck him in, under his blankets. He initially thought it might have been his mother, but after seeing his jeans on the floor and not tidily folded in a chair, he knew it had been one of his sisters.

A quick glance at the clock told him that it was a quarter past eight. He frowned, confused. They always had dinner at eight o'clock, why didn't they wake him up? He quickly dressed up and stepped out of his room. He went downstairs and got to the dining room, where his five older sisters and his parents were having dinner.

It was one thing to know that he was going to die, that his days were numbered. It was terrible. But seeing it reflected upon his sisters and parents faces was even worse. They all had their heads down, seemingly more worried about staring at the food rather than eating it. His parents seemed to be the only ones who had touched their plates. His sisters were all holding the forks in their hands, absently moving their food. He noticed that Lynn was practically stabbing his beef stew over and over again, leaving it in such small pieces that one could just drink it in a soup. It didn't went unnoticed by him the fact that Luan was wearing her mime attire, and that the black makeup on her eyes was all messed up, going down her cheeks painting a few tear tracks. In a house full of girls, where makeup was such a sacred thing, something like that could never go unnoticed. But no one seemed to care. They were all just staring at their dinner.

It was a devastating picture. His experience with the grown up table wasn't the best. He considered it extremely boring. But if there was something that he'd learned, was that they always had something to talk about. Perhaps it were mundane things like a math test, or an anecdote from their parents jobs, but the grown ups always had something they could talk about. Seeing them in such silence, with everyone focused in their own world, in their own thoughts, made him somehow feel even worse, if that was possible.