Shattered

23

Lena's P.O.V

"I'm fine," She mumble, her words slurring do to lack of sleep and this overpowering fever.

Her eyes close, her body causing her eyes to shut. "This happens alot. Give me an hour, please."

We agree, but only because she just ate something that was warm, wich could cause her temperature to rise, especially since we took it oral.
                                           ***
Jude coughs behind me, echoing Mariana.

"You have got to be kidding me." I complain, my stomach twisting as I look down at the kids, all splattered against the couch. "Are you all sick now?"

"I'm good." Brandon says, looking up from his phone.

"Same here," Jesus says, although his face looks flushed.

"Fine," Callie says, resting Mariana's head on her shoulder.

"Okay," I say as Stef sighs, grabbing her phone.

I run my hand through my hair. "Doctors. Tomorrow. All of you."

They whine, starting to object.

"Mama," Callie whines. "We're not even sick."

"Well, three out of six of you are, so theres a 50 percent chance that you will get sick. Better safe than sorry. You're going."Stef says, laying down the rules.

I go upstairs to check on Emilia, walking rather quickly.

She lies on her bed still, her breathing low and shallow.

She's so fast asleep, I feel horrible about waking her up.

Her eyes droop open, staring at me with a glossy look.

"Mama," She whines, shrugging in her bed.

My heart flutters. Mama.

She just called me Mama.

She's right her fever did go down.

Slightly. I guess?

At least 103.2 is better than it was before.

I sigh, agreeing to let her sleep.
*********
Emilia's P.O.V
I sit down in the worn out pediatric clinic's chair, slouching against Callie, sandwiched between her and Jesus In the doctors office, we are all seated.

Apparently Mariana and Jude are sick? Jude looks more pestered than sick though.

I cough, my forced breath filled with phlegm, causing my chest to heave in pain.

The doctors already checked Brandon Callie Jesus, paying attention to Jude and Mariana, confirming they have a certain type of the flu, although they did get there flu shots.

He looks at me with deep eyes, like he's digging for secrets.

Some sign that I'm alright.

He must of read my chart.

Andrews's a doctor.

I don't care if he doesn't work here.

He's a doctor and he can come here and take me and beat me and-

"Take a deep breath." The guy days, making me flinch when the cold metal stethoscope on my back.

My breath is wheezy, more of a squeak than a breath.

After about an hour of x-rays and some poking and probing, they finally for came with a answer that was actually logical.

And correct.

Pneumonia.

Great. Just great.

More medicine, plus breathing treatments along with my healing-broken ribs.

Breathing already hurts, why couldn't I just get something that wasn't relative to my bones or lungs?

Like a flu?!

I drift off to sleep in the car, blocking out the 'Are you okay?' 'Are you suuurrreeee your okay?' And all the other let me help you in any way or form possible.

Honestly.

For once I'd like to not be the gravitational pull towards attention.

If I take double my medicine, it'll help me get better faster, right?

Jesus's P.O.V

I told them.

I had too.

If she wouldn't, I would.

She's my sister.

I'm not going to let her kill her self because of a stupid fear.