Chapter 168
Fiona
I groan, squeezing my eyes closed as the nausea rolls through my body.
“Okay, that’s it,” Isla says, the bite in her tone making me open my eyes. She stomps over and helps me up off the floor, shouldering most of my weight. “It’s been two days, and I can’t watch you waste away like this any longer. You’re not getting any better, and you can’t keep any food down.”
“I know,” I mumble, my voice rasping. I’ve thrown up so many times my throat is raw. I’m surprised I can even say anything. I let my head fall to Isla’s shoulder as she rants about me not arguing with her. What I don’t say is that I don’t plan to argue with her.
I thought I would get better by now, but like Isla said, I can’t keep anything down. There’s also this constant ache in my chest, almost like something has been pressed into my chest or like I swallowed air and there’s a bubble sitting in my chest.
“—and do you even know that being sick this long is probably a really bad sign? There could be something seriously wrong, and I don’t think it’s depression anymore.”
“Depression?” I ask. She sits me on the edge of the bed, and with a hand on my shoulder, she keeps me from bending down to help. It’s probably best, because anytime bend over, I feel more nauseous than usual. Though, in the last two days, the nausea isn’t as constant as it was when I was at Ethan’s house.
Now, it’s just after eating and at night before bed, and when I wake up in the morning. Also, if I make sudden movements, I sometimes get sick.
Which, I guess is all the time.
Sighing, I stand. I feel like an invalid, needing help from Isla all the time. She doesn’t seem to mind helping, but I still hate making her feel like she has to help. Whenever I get better, I’ll have to do something to thank her for always being the best friend anyone could ask for.
“Thanks, Isla. I don’t know what I’d do without you—”
“Woah don’t go getting all mushy on me. You’re sick, not dying,” she jokes, squeezing my hand as she leads me out to the car. I offer my best smile. “Now, let’s get you to the hospital. I’m sure you’re tired of being sick.”
“Yeah,” I mumble. “I am.”
The needle slides into my arm, and I wince at the prick of pain.
“We’ll just take enough for the blood tests while we wait for the flu, strep throat, and pneumonia tests to come back,” the nurse says with a friendly smile. I’m sure she practices smiling in the mirror for it to be so nice.
“Okay,” I murmur, laying my head back on the wall.
“How long have you been sick?”
“Over a week,” I answer, and she raises a brow. “I know I should’ve come sooner, but I thought it would go away.”
“Well, we’ll figure out what you have and help you feel better soon. Next time, I would suggest coming sooner to avoid getting worse or possibly making yourself suffer longer than you have to,” the nurse says, checking the syringe in my arm. She then nods and offers another warm smile. “We’re done with this. I’ll send it to labs and have them take a look. I’ll also go check on the other tests we took earlier.”
Nodding, I wait as she takes the syringe out and tapes off my elbow. She lets me know she’ll be back soon and that we can relax until she comes back, saying, “If you feel sick at all, there’s a trashcan here, and you can lay on the table if you want.”
She leaves soon after that, and I go sit in the chair beside Isla, laying my head on her shoulder. I watch as she plays some little café game on her phone, the light piano melody playing into the quiet room.
It’s peaceful enough that I let my eyes fall closed as I take steady, calming breaths. Maybe we can finally get me feeling better. Then, I can figure out what to do about work because I don’t know if I can go back to working for Ethan.
“…ona. Fiona?”
“Hmmm?” I hum, shifting my head and opening my eyes. The nurse stands in front of me with some papers and that soft, warm smile again.
“You must be exhausted. Sorry to wake you, but I got some of the tests back. You came back negatively for the flu, strep, and pneumonia. They also checked for bronchitis and that was also negative. Seeing how tired you are, I’m going to let you go home, but here,” she says, holding out a prescription slip.
An unfamiliar medicine name is printed on the paper.
“What’s this?”
“It’s a nausea medicine I want you to pick up,” she says, and I look back at the paper. I’d already told her I took medicine, and it didn’t do anything. “It’s safe for you to take, but it’s a higher dosage than anything you can get in a general store. Take it to the pharmacy downstairs, and they’ll give you the medicine. Make sure to follow the instructions the pharmacy gives you while taking them. If you become more nauseous or they don’t work after a day or two of taking them, don’t continue.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Thanks, Nurse Sherri. Please let us know as soon as you figure out the results of the blood tests,” Isla says, taking the prescription. “I’ll make sure she gets these and does whatever the pharmacist says.”
“Good. I hope you begin feeling better,” Nurse Sherri says, standing up. “I’ll be in touch.”
Isla groans and stops the car.
“What is he doing here?” The anger in her tone opens my eyes, which is when I notice Ryan and Sophie standing by the front door of Isla’s house. The sight has me sitting up straighter and confusion running through me. I haven’t seen Ryan since Ethan took me to his house and Sophie far before that.
“What are they doing here?” I mumble, pushing my door open.
“Fiona, how are y—” Ryan stops in his tracks, his eyes running from my head to my toes then back up again. He steps forward, then rushes to my side, wrapping his arm around my waist to help me. “What happened to you? Are you okay?”
A sharp, scoff sounds from behind us, making Ryan look over my shoulder.
“Why don’t you ask your friend? He’s the one who—”
“Isla, please don’t argue with Ryan. This isn’t his fault, and I just want to get inside and rest,” I tell her.
“Let me help you,” Ryan says softly, and another scoff comes from my friend.
Sophie watches us with worry, and I notice she’s hugging some kind of book to her chest. I lift my hand and wave, and she does the same, her worried expression not leaving her face.
“What are you two doing here?” I ask as Isla unlocks the door and moves to the side for us to enter. She glares at Ryan the entire way inside until he sits me on the couch and kneels in front of me.
“We came to check on you, but Sophie also had a book she wanted to share with you,” he tells me, touching my forehead with the back of his hand. He hums then presses the backs of his hands to the sides of my neck.
Isla lunges and grabs Ryan’s wrist, yanking him back and snarling, “Don’t touch her. Your friend has already done enough. Fiona doesn’t need any more problems.”
“Are you feeling sick?” Sophie’s soft voice makes all three of us look at her, and I nod. “Well, it’s a good thing I brought this book then. It’s the one I told you about, remember?”
A book. The last time we talked, Sophie told me about a book she got from someone in her family. I don’t remember much about the book other than that it’s a Lycan book, but I do remember asking if I could look at it.
She passes it to me, and I take it, laying it in my lap.
“I wanted to let you borrow it, so I came with Ryan when he said he was coming to check on you,” she explains. The book looks old, bound in leather, with various engravings of plants swirling on the front.
“Thanks, Sophie. I’ll look at it then bring it back to you soon.”
“Enough of that. Why didn’t you let me know you were sick?”
“Because she doesn’t owe you or that bastard Ethan anything,” Isla growls, moving between us. Ryan takes a step back, eyeing my friend.
“Sorry, but I’m not rally in the mood to talk right now, especially if Ethan sent you to check up on me. Tell him I’m fine, and stop worrying about me. I’m not his business anymore.”
With that, I push myself off the couch and walk to my room to take a shower and a nap. Maybe that’ll help me feel a bit better.
