The Outsider (Original Version)

Chapter 13- Not Ready To Die

My eyes flutter open, feeling like I really don't want to get up.

Coughing fills the air, making my lungs feel like they might pop out of place.

Once the fit stops and I can breathe again I sigh, sitting up to put my head in my hands.

I don't understand this.

My coughing has been getting slightly worse since two days ago when we went down into that place.

Everything has started to feel off.

I'm not very energized in the mornings like I used to be.

The idea of food make me want to gag sometimes, which is one of the worst things.

Food! I don't want food!

In any other situation I would be the person to bring up food, now I'm the last person to want anyone to bring it up.

Mig has been worried like a mother hen about it, wanting me to rest.

But I've never been one to lay back and rest.

I could never do it before, and I can't do it now.

My right hand moves to my left, scratching th back as if something was crawling under my skin.

"Ugh!" I shout, feeling as if I'm going insane.

My back lands on the bed as I rub my temples.

This can't be happening.

Mig rushes into the room, looking as if he blew a socket.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?" He asks, sounding like a concerned father.

I roll my eyes.

"You should tell me exactly what's wrong while we wait for the blood sample, it should be finished sometime today." He prys, making me grumble.

I don't like this fussy side of him.

My feet hit the ground and I stand, feeling a dizzy spell take over me.

"I'm fine." I say, stumbling over to the dresser.

My hands shake as I open the top one, feeling weak.

"You need to eat Petra. You haven't eaten in two days!" He shouts, spinning me around and shaking me by the shoulders.

The act makes me a bit more dizzy and I hold my head.

"Come." He says, picking me up and slinging me over his shoulder.

Mig gallops down the stairs, the noise resembling a horse.

Speaking of which I should probably bring Spirit for a ride around the park.

"I don't want food." I mutter as he sits me down on one of the chairs.

At the sound of the word my stomach grolws, making me cross my arms stubbornly.

You can't even side with me here?

Mig sets a bowl of mashed potatoes in front of me.

The smell itself makes my mouth water.

"Whoa, mashed potatoes?" I ask weakly, grabbing the spoon.

I had seen other people eat these, I had almost stolen a container myself, but ended up dropping it on my way out of a town.

"Yes. Now eat!" He says, crossing his robotic arms and watching me as I roll my eyes and pick at the food, only eating a small bite.