Metamorphosis (Breaking Free, book 2)

Chapter 10-Milo

Cooper spent several weeks in the clinic, barely stirring. I would count his breath, holding my own, just waiting for a change, waiting for another episode, my gut twisting in apprehension. He hadn't had another episode like the last one, but Mari and I couldn't help but walk around him on eggshells, our nerves creating a static tension in the air that seemed to only grow stronger as time went on. 

Nerves had eaten me up day and night. Mari had buried me in medical knowledge and practice to keep me busy, and it almost worked. Any spare moment I had I spent fighting off panic attacks, counting my breath and thinking of Owen and what he had taught me to do. Even so, I had learned a lot in all of this time. Mari wouldn't admit it, but I was learning fast.

 I had learned some basic suturing techniques within several weeks and several butchered bananas and had nearly finished reading an encyclopedia-sized textbook on supernatural diseases. There was a surprising amount, and they were all very strange, some serious and some laughably ridiculous, but I found one, in particular, more interesting than the rest. It caught my eye one night long past midnight, and the moment I noticed it, I couldn't let it go.

I had stumbled across it hunched over a counter in Cooper's room. I knew that me being there wouldn't change anything, but I couldn't bring myself to leave his side. Not when he could wake up at any moment.

 It was there, the light dimmed so low I had to squint to read what it said, that I found the term: Wilson's Theory of Iungo. It was scrawled, slanted and looping, on an old sheet of paper, brown and burnt at the edges, that fluttered to the floor by my feet. It smelled of an old library and coffee, and it soothed a part of me, enough that I felt exhaustion weighing on me, a reminder of how little I had slept in the last two weeks. 

 It wasn't part of my textbook, that much I could be sure, but it piqued my curiosity, so even if I shouldn't have, I picked it up and attempted to read it. I couldn't make out all of the words, but what I could only confused me and brought up more questions than I had to begin with. 

There were words like, unite, love, souls, death, and separation. I couldn't make heads or tails of what it meant, but something stirred in my gut that left me dizzy and lost, my head spinning with information without meaning but with an answer somewhere.

 Something about this wasn't right. Something about this held a personal weight to it, sitting just above my chest, but I wasn't quite sure how I had never heard of it before in my life if it resonated so deeply with me. I wasn't even sure it was a real medical condition. But still, part of me called out to it, and part of it called out to me, and my chaste ached with pain alongside curiosity. A Curiosity that would have to wait.

Rubbing my eyes, I could feel the weight of sleep pushing down on me. Gingerly placing the paper back into my textbook, careful not to damage any of its frail edges. I yawned, forcing myself to leave the small medical room behind, the pungent smell of antiseptic and death lingering in my nose.

I had almost forgotten about my nightmares, longing for Owen and worry over Rosey along with all my stressing about Cooper and his strange episodes and studying medicine (which was no easy feat) but I could feel them waiting at the edge of my consciousness as I settled in. I couldn't get rid of them even if I wanted to. They lurked in the shadows of my mind, ready to jump on me the moment I fell asleep, as much a part of me as my arms. And I wished Owen was with me, to soothe me into a dreamless sleep.

The bed was cold without him. It felt empty, alone and frightening beyond belief. The veil between me and my subconscious was thin, and I could feel it staring into my soul, reading my fears and waiting to terrorize me when I was truly helpless. I shivered, crawling under the thick weight of my duvet, lulling me into a false sense of safety, even if the loneliness persisted.