"Yeah, I think you have a fever. Lemme get the thermometer."
Your mom heads into the kitchen to get the thermometer. Once she's back, she sticks it in your mouth.
"Put it underneath your tongue."
You nod and follow her instructions. The end of the thermometer stabbing the soft underside of your tongue makes your mouth water and you start to wince at the growing pain.
Then it starts to beep and you eye it from its position in your mouth.
100.4.
You sigh as your wait for your mom to take it out.
She stares at it for a while before coming to the obvious conclusion.
"Yep, you've got a fever. Is there anything I can get you?"
You shake your head.
"Okay, well. Your dad and I need to go to work. Your brother's in the living room if you need him, okay."
You nod sickishly.
"Do you want me to stay home? I will."
"No, mom. It's fine," you speak hoarsely with your sore throat.
"Okay, well. Call if you need anything."
And with that your mother leaves, quietly closing the door behind her. You roll over in bed, the dim light filtering through the curtains is bearable. You think of how you basically stayed up all night. You didn't know doing something like what happened last night could get you sick. You didn't have a bad fever, but you still felt horrible.
Your throat was sore and you had a terrible cough. You felt achey and occasionally nauseous. You told your mom you thought you had a virus, but she dismissed it to the back of her mind.
You look at the wet spot on your pillow where you had spent the night crying. You hope Rick hadn't told Morty about the night prior.
You remember the frightening twinkle in Morty D-479's eyes. You remember his strange grin and how he had nearly raped you.
You dismiss the traumatizing memories. You look around your room and find Morty's yellow t-shirt. You still feel pretty weirded out by last night, so right now you want nothing to do with any Morty.
Though after a while the yearning for your Morty becomes too strong and you get up to retrieve the shirt. You dress one of your pillows in it and hug it tightly.
You lie down with the pillow, laying on your side. You spoon it softly.
---
You spend the day watching movies and such on your tv. You sigh as your brother walks into your room.
"You okay?"
"Yeah. I'm fine."
"Okay. I just didn't hear anything from you for a while."
Kyle sits on your bed next to you and you notice he's sober.
"Where. . . Where were you last night?" He asks, concerned.
"Umm. . . Morty's."
"Oh, I just noticed you were gone."
You hum a response.
"Um, did anything . . . Happen?"
You pause for a minute, desperately wanting to tell somebody, but you decide not to. Definitely not your brother.
"No," your delayed response comes.
"Well, you just seem. . . Weird."
"I'm fine."
"Oh, okay. Well, I'll be downstairs if you need me."
"Kay."
Kyle stands up, dissatisfied as you completely avoided the real answer. He knew it and you knew it.
He walks out, quietly closing the door. You sigh hard knowing he was trying to be nice and that would be the only time. Though you're not gonna tell him you were almost raped. Although you wanted to do it with him at first.
You groan and turn to your Morty pillow.
"Sorry."
You cuddle it and watch yet another movie. You start to feel hungry so you start to yell for Kyle.
"Kyle!" You shout, your weak voice only a loud whisper.
You sigh and scream again.
"Ugh."
You pick up your phone on your nightstand and hope he answers.
I'm hungry.
. . .
Whadaya wanna eat?
Anything. Just bring me something.
K
You cringe as you hear glass shatter downstairs. You chuckle, knowing your brother's clumsy. You wait a little longer and then he comes through the door.
He hands you a bag of popcorn, it still steaming from the microwave. You thank him and he reluctantly leaves.
You look at the popcorn in your hand and decide you're hungry enough to eat it. You open it, steam emerging from it.
You take a couple bites, then remember the night before. You try to push it away, but it still sticks in your mind. You look at the popcorn, only a reminder of the night before. You put it on your nightstand.
You sigh and put your hands over your face trying to forget. Though the memories flow freely through your mind.