The babysitter

Sick days... yikes

Lucy stirred slowly in her sleep, the early morning light filtering through the curtains of her room, casting soft, golden hues across the walls. She shifted, her limbs stiff from the awkward position she'd fallen asleep in, her body stretched out across the couch. The blanket, which had once been tucked around her, now barely clung to her shoulder, leaving her feeling the cool, empty air around her. The room was quiet, the only sound the faint rustle of wind against the window.

Then, through the silence, came the sound of tiny, hesitant footsteps padding across the wooden floor. The unmistakable shuffle of bare feet echoed through the room, a sound so familiar that it caused her heart to skip a beat.

"Lucie?" The voice was small, fragile, filled with discomfort. It cut through the quiet of the room like a sharp whisper in the night.

Lucy's eyes snapped open, her heart pounding in her chest as she scrambled to make sense of the disoriented fog of sleep. "W-what? Emma?" She blinked rapidly, her vision blurry at first as she sat up, feeling the weight of exhaustion drag her down. She rubbed her eyes, attempting to push away the lingering fog of slumber. As her senses sharpened, she saw Emma standing by the couch, her small figure bathed in the dim light from the hallway.

Emma's pale face looked even more fragile than usual, and her large brown eyes were filled with an unsettling discomfort. She clutched her stuffed bear tightly, its worn fabric gripped between tiny fingers. A sense of unease washed over Lucy as she took in Emma's flushed cheeks and watery eyes.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?" Lucy's voice, still groggy with sleep, was full of concern. She pushed herself up, her body protesting against the sudden movement, but her instincts told her that something wasn't right.

Emma shook her head, her lip trembling. "Me no-no," she mumbled, her voice barely audible, and it only deepened Lucy's worry. Emma's tiny frame looked fragile, her small body trembling slightly as she stood in the doorway. Her skin had a sheen to it—hot and flushed with fever.

Lucy didn't hesitate. She reached out, her hands gentle as they cupped Emma's face. She pressed the back of her hand against Emma's forehead, and her concern intensified as she immediately felt the heat radiating from the little girl's skin. A fever. A strong one.

"Oh no, sweetheart, you have a fever." Lucy's voice was soft, almost a whisper, as she pulled Emma closer into her embrace. "Come on, let's get you some medicine."

Emma's head rested against Lucy's shoulder as she let herself be lifted into Lucy's arms. She was light, but the warmth from her fevered body made her seem heavier than usual, and Lucy's protective instincts flared. She cradled Emma carefully against her, moving through the darkened hallway toward the kitchen, but halfway there, Emma let out a small whimper.

"Lucie..." Her voice trembled, and before Lucy could react, she felt the sudden, unpleasant sensation of warmth spreading across her chest.

Emma's stomach revolted. The unmistakable sound of retching filled the air, and Lucy gasped as the warmth, thick and unpleasant, splattered across her sweatshirt, soaking through to her skin. Emma's wide eyes looked up at her in horror, as though her body had betrayed her.

"I... I puke on Lucie!" Emma cried, her voice breaking as tears began to spill down her cheeks.

For a brief moment, Lucy stood frozen, the shock of the situation sinking in. Her heart ached at Emma's distress, and her first instinct was to comfort the little girl, to reassure her. The mess, the unpleasantness—it didn't matter. What mattered was Emma, her fragile little heart, and the fear that was now written across her face.

Lucy blinked away the rising tide of frustration that threatened to swallow her. "Oh, honey, it's okay," she said softly, her voice soothing. "It's not your fault." She held Emma closer, pressing a gentle kiss to her head as she rocked her slightly in her arms. "Let's get cleaned up, alright?"