Oh, Lucy

Chapter Eight: Sideways

The cold air hits me the second I set foot in the enormous house, but it does nothing to soothe my anger. Instinctively, I make my way towards the kitchen, pouring myself a shot of vodka in the first red cup I can find.

I down it without a second thought, not really caring about my doctor's warnings to not drink alcohol on the same day I'd had the trial medication. I was going to die soon anyway and whether it was from the Huntington's Disease or a horrible reaction to the medicine to treat Huntington's Disease, I didn't care at this point.

More and more drinks find their way to my lips and I'm on my 10th shot when it starts kicking in, overtaken by the lack of feeling, the numbness.

I'm in bliss for nearly fifteen minutes when suddenly everything comes crashing down as a dizzying pain, far worse than the typical drug-induced ones, erupts in my head.

I grip tightly to the wall, feeling as if my head is going to explode while everything spins.

"Are you okay?" I hear the voice that was becoming much too familiar ask and through the fog of pain I see Vince Dumont standing over me, the last thing in focus before the world begins to turn sideways and then all that's left is darkness.
My head is pounding when I wake up on an unfamiliar bed. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, but when they do, I notice a figure sitting at a nearby office chair and I soon realize it's Vince.
"What happened?" I ask out loud as I rub my head, though I have a basic idea.
"You passed out and I brought you upstairs." He answers. "You know I was pretty surprised to see you of all people pass out. From what I've heard you're usually a heavyweight." He adds, standing from the chair and coming closer as I bite my lip in embarrassment.
"Here, drink this, it'll help." He says, handing me a glass on the nightstand.
"Thank you." I whisper, offering a weak smile. "Why are you being so nice to me?" I ask just as I go to take the glass and my hand shakes.
It's a small tremor, barely noticeable to the typical person, but extremely distinctive and particularly familiar to someone who's watched someone's small tremors morph into enormous body-racking spasms over the course of a few years.
He sets the glass down before I can make another grab at it and then inspects my hands closely before meeting my eyes again. I look away, afraid of what he might see if he looks closely enough, afraid that without me uttering a single word, he already knows the truth.
He drops my hands and they land on the slate-colored sheets with a dull thump. "You lied to me." He states aloud, and I bite my lip to keep myself from giving anything else away.
"You don't have an aunt with Huntington's; you're the one with Huntington's. Aren't you?" He questions, but I keep mum. "That's why you passed out isn't it? HD medication doesn't mix as well as you thought with alcohol." He states matter-of-factly and then lets out a heavy sigh.
"Do your friends know? Does anyone know?" He persists, growing frustrated with my lack of responses. "Don't just stay quiet, Lucia. Answer me! You owe me that at least."

"No! Okay?" I finally shout, looking up at him. "No one except my family knows and we haven't even fully explained it to them." I admit and it's all I can do to keep myself from crying in front of him.

"You should tell your boyfriend and your friends." He advises, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "You're going to start showing more and more symptoms and they're going to get curious, Lucy." He says, and I scowl at him.

"A year from now, we'll all be off in different schools and none of my friends will be speaking to me. Why should they care what happens to me 20 years down the line?" I snap. "I'd just be scaring them for no reason. They don't need that negativity in their lives and I don't need their pity in mine." I state honestly. "P-please don't tell anyone, Vince." I beg softly, eyeing him expectantly for a response.