Among The Roses

Chapter 17: Through a Brief Darkness

Chiara was so cold. She'd never been so cold in her life. Why? Her limbs felt heavy, as though they were weighted down, or she were underwater or something. 

How strange.

She tried to move her arms and legs, but found she couldn't. This frightened her, and she tried even harder, flailing as hard as she could against whatever was holding her. Her throat was sandpaper dry, and felt like someone had been striking matches on it. She looked around and saw an unfamiliar room, with unfamiliar people. She cried out for her father, but he was nowhere to be found. She sank back into unconsciousness.

Later. Again, she was so cold, shivering cold. Her teeth were chattering so hard she thought her jaw was going to jitter apart, so hard it was making her head hurt. Her whole body ached with the cold. 

"Shh, shh, darling, drink this, come on, there's a good girl." 

She turned toward the soothing voice, opening her mouth, but the liquid tasted astringent and bitter and she tried to turn away, but someone was holding her head. "Come on, just a bit more, then you can have some water."

She swallowed, grimacing, fighting.

Then came the water, blessedly cold and clear, tasting amazing, and she swallowed greedily, drinking it all, nearly choking. Of course, this made her cold again, and the chills shook her whole body, and she felt them in cycles, making her clench up so tightly, eyes shut as they overtook her.

And she could hear voices, sometimes noisy and raucous, like crowds at a cocktail party, chattering like birds, so loudly that they frightened her, making her want to cover her ears. Then, at other times, the voices were low and dragged out like stretched rubber bands, or LPs played on the wrong speed.

"Dad? Dad, where are you?" Chiara was running down a long, dark hallway, her footsteps echoing in her ears. She fell, her knees making a painful sound as they struck the tile. "Dad? Come back!" She knew he was up ahead of her somewhere, but she couldn't catch up with him, she didn't have a hope of reaching him.

💉🌡💉🌡💉🌡💉🌡💉

Drew hadn't slept, like really slept, in days. 

For one thing, there was the fact that Chiara was in his bed. He wasn't sure what had led him to put her there, when there were four other open beds on the floor where his room was, not to mention a spare room and numerous sofas on the ground floor where he could've taken her as well. It just hadn't occurred to him to put her anywhere else, for some reason.

Of course, he himself could sleep in any of those beds as well, but again, it just didn't feel right. He did consider just crawling in next to Chiara to grab a quick nap, but the doctor he'd had out to treat her had warned him that the virus she had was quite contagious.

"You need to wash your hands every time you touch her, every time you wipe her face or give her a drink, is that clear?" he admonished. "Certainly before you touch your own face or mouth." He looked at Ned, who'd been helping by this point, including him in these warnings as well. "If she were more stable, I'd recommend moving her to hospital, but you two seem to have things well in hand, and she's able to get up to use the toilet on her own, so I'm going to leave her where she is. If things deteriorate any more, she's going to have to go, though, understand?"

And both boys had nodded.

And Ned, worried as he'd been, seemed to have no problem getting a good night's sleep when he needed it, unlike Drew, who worried endlessly that Chiara might get sicker, or worse, possibly die or something, while under his watch. Then where would he be?