Janelle was acting like the conversation they had four days ago never happened. She was good at lying. Except for her normal quietness and efficiency was now silent and rushed.
The four days that had passed after their conversation were long ones. She could barely focus on anything. Her books, her sketches, nothing.
She was even having trouble sleeping.
It was late a Friday night when it happened. That pang in her stomach. The feeling of nausea. Her aid had left an hour ago and she should've been asleep, but she had been left tossing and turning.
Perhaps the unusual heat in her room should have been warning enough. But the head splitting pain that came next had been unexpected as she just managed to miss the bed and hit the floor as the first wave of nausea came. She was sweating with a fever that she knew was going to be diagnosed later. Then came an uncontrollable coughing fit as she heaved up more of her dinner. She let out a shrill shriek before another fit took over, she needed to get someone's attention. Anyone's.
A guard pushed through the door just as she heaved up what she was sure was Wednesday's breakfast.
She never really got much past this, and if she did manage to she could never really recollect the hours with her head in the bucket, or the sharp pain as they tried to give her some medication to make it stop.
The next morning she was absolutely out of it. In and out of conscienceness. She could barely tell as Janelle did what she always did when she had one of her fits, it helped, but it didn't. She could barely register when her father visited.
She always felt bad when he did visit though. Most of the time he couldn't and when he did it was mostly during the aftermath of one of these random fits when they couldn't talk. But she loved him and she knew that he loved her. And that he would do anything for her. But the number of times they got to talk was steadily decreasing over the years.
Right now the number of times was very small.
It wasn't until about sunset that she came back into it. Her dinner waiting for her on her bedside table. It was still warm, but not hot.
To calm her mind a bit she cracked open a book and ate while she read. When she finally looked up she caught a glimpse of the moon out of her window.
Full.
YOU ARE READING
The Marble Tower
RastgeleShe had been locked in her little tower for eleven years. Confound to bed because of the mysterious disease that plagues her every breath. Though she doesn't remember much about her life beforehand she does remember one thing: the death of her mot...
