Fanatic.

One.

   Megan Christian had just finished making her cup of coffee, heavy with cream and light on sugar. It's a sunny day in Ithaca, and Megan had just finished taking a shower. Her hair was wrapped in a striped towel that her mother gave to her when Megan moved out, it was a nice towel- yet faded and colourful. The towel was too tiny to wrap around her body, but it wrapped around her head nicely and kept her chestnut coloured hair in place. Her hair barely fell past her chest, and her eyes shone out in the brightest hue of green. Her skin was temporarily reddened by the faint sunburn on her back and shoulders, but she has soft tan lines at her cleavage, and faint tan lines at her bikini line. 

Megan sighed softly as she took another sip of the hot coffee, wincing when she burnt her lip on the liquid. It was the phone vibrating on the table that bought her attention back to life. She extended a French manicured hand, grasping the phone and sliding the answer button.

"Hello?" She spoke out softly, clearing her throat.

"Megan, babygirl! It's Papa!" A gruff voice rang out from the other line.

"Papa! I didn't think you'd be up this early." Megan smiled, the voice of her father bringing her joy.

"I didn't think I would either, but your mom's getting sicker. I don't think there's very much I can do to take care of her, muffin. Between work and your sister, I'm struggling." The gruff voice became deeper, lingering with a sadness that only Megan could decipher. 

"What do you mean sicker? Doctor Phan said that she'd be fine last time she went..." Megan began to chew at her fingertips, setting her coffee cup down.

"She ain't gonna get better, Megan. That's what I'm telling you." His voice seemed far away, and Megan was farther.

"But...she's just sick, okay?" The worrying began to nibble at the back of her mind. 

"Megan, I can't do this alone. I need someone to watch after your sister and your mother while I work and tend to Ms. Piper's farm. Your aunt Michelle can't do it and neither can Whiskey, he's just a cat." Her father spoke lower, it must've meant Megan's sister was in the room. Out of all of Megan's family, her sister, Mierda, took her mother's sickness the worst.

"But, Papa...." Megan argued back, pointlessly. Her father always got the upper hand.

"I'll be over in a bit, Papa." The phone rung dead.

Megan gathered her coffee mug and phone, standing from the oak chair and she scampered to her bedroom.

~~~~~~~~~~

   Megan's parents, Astor and Norman Christian, lived an hour away from Morgan. Her parent's suspected that it'd be easier if she didn't live so far away from them. It was also easier on Megan, with a part time job as a waitress, and the bills are usually low.

The drive to Synder Hill wasn't too long as Megan suspected, and she brushed a strand of loose chestnut coloured hair behind one pierced ear. Megan was tapping her sharp nails against the steering wheel, her plump red lips parting sing a song on the radio. 

The light turn green after a few long moments of silence, apart from Megan's soft humming and nail tapping. Her eyes were hidden behind tinted sunglasses, and her white jumpsuit hugged her skin tightly, it did expose a wink of skin- enough to leave the imagination roaming- the hem was stitched with gold and had a print of plaid against the waist. Her hair was pulled back in a classy manner, her feet covered with some old sandals.

It was another turn Megan had to make before reaching her parents' house to discuss the matters of her mother. 

Why isn't she getting better? She wasn't sick like this before, even when she was hospitalized.  Morgan drummed at the steering wheel again, her mind filling with panic. What if she doesn't get better at all?