Who: Kevin Entwhistle Where: His head What: A nightmare When: Backdated to Wednesday night Rating: Low; terminal illness description OOC note: This happened after Kevin posted the journal about having a nightmare (which he lied about to gather more information from others) - he's also staying over at St. Mungo's.
Kevin felt small. Or was it that the counter was just really big? He wasn't sure, but at that point in time, he also felt like it probably wasn't that important. His hands - small hands - were curled around the edge, and he was stretching up on his toes to get a better look at the biscuit tin which he knew was always sitting on top of the microwave.
"Those aren't for you, son." Dad, Kevin thought, whipping his head around to look up at his father, who leaned over him to pick up something that rattled. Mum's medicine.
"Why don't you give them to her?" His dad was suddenly crouched down in front of him, except that it wasn't his dad anymore, it was his gran, who always looked so sad and wouldn't let him watch telly when he wanted to. She was pressing a huge bottle of bright green pills into his hand, and he backed away quickly, already aware of what was being asked of him. They wanted him to go in there.
"No," he said urgently, shaking his head. He chanced a peek across the room, to the stairs just behind the kitchen door. His chest tightened at the thought of going upstairs and into that room with its nasty sharp smells that burned the inside of his nose, the bleeping machines, the nurse that sat in the corner reading and worst of all - his mother, who to Kevin looked like a skeleton with paper skin.
"Go on, son," gran insisted, pushing the bottle toward him. It was so big now that he had to wrap his arms around it to stop it from falling to the floor. It was heavy, too, and he could feel his eyes stinging and his lip wobble at the thought of dragging it upstairs with him.
"I don't want to!"
"But your mum hasn't seen you all day, how do you think that makes her feel?" gran asked him with a sad little laugh, touching the top of his head with her cold fingers as she stood up again. Her hand cupped his elbow, and she dragged him toward the stairs. He could already smell the weird smells, and the beeping was getting louder and louder, mixed with a strange, rattling cough that came from the door at the top of the landing.