Helen Magnus (britishcharm) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2015-05-11 15:32:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, helen magnus |
Who: Helen Magnus (Narrative)
When: May 11
Where: Her house.
What: Helen has another dream and starts coughing up blood.
Rating/Warnings: Mention of coughing up blood and some contemplation about dying.
Status: Complete!
Ironic, isn't it? Enemies in life. United in death. It's almost an opera.
She’d noticed. Of course she’d noticed. The headache that just wouldn’t go away, the nausea that seemed to come with it. And once she’d started running a fever, she’d known something was wrong. But she’d told herself it was nothing, a mild case of the flu or some other virus. It wasn’t anything to worry about. She knew better, though, some instinct she wasn’t yet entirely aware of telling her it was more than that.
Still, she’d ignored it, even when she started having bouts of dizziness and feeling weaker than she should.
A few times she’d been asked if she was feeling all right. She’d waved off their concern, telling them it was just a headache. For the most part, that seemed to satisfy. Most of the individuals in question hadn’t been particularly concerned with her health to begin with, far more interested in the appearance of being concerned for her health. She might usually be well-liked by most of her clients, but her colleagues weren’t overly fond of her.
What she couldn’t ignore was when she woke from another dream coughing up blood. Not a lot. Just enough to let her know there was a problem, that the fatal dose of radiation she’d gotten in the dreams had carried over into the waking world.
She stood once again at the bathroom sink, hands shaking as she watched the red-tinged water swirl down the drain.
A worried greyhound watched her with sad eyes; and when she slid to the floor, trying to keep her rising panic at bay, he curled up beside her and rested his head in her lap. It couldn’t have been comfortable for him, but still he stayed, letting her gently stroke his fur as she tried to pull herself together.
There were a number of ways one could react to the realization she was dying, she supposed. All things considered, she thought she was taking it rather well. She wasn’t crying or yelling; a little afraid, perhaps, but that was to be expected. More than a little afraid, if she were honest.
It hardly mattered. The damage was already done. And she couldn’t control her own dreams anymore than she could control Ashley’s.
How had she ended up here, sitting on a hard bathroom floor hoping to find a way to accept she was being killed by something that shouldn’t even exist? It wasn’t exactly something you could explain to anyone who hadn’t experienced the Dreams, anyone who didn’t know what they were capable of doing.
She chuckled darkly, the sound bitter as she closed her eyes against the sudden, overwhelming urge to cry anyway. She wondered what they would tell people, how they might make sense of it.
Gently easing Ky off her lap, she wrapped a supportive arm around her still aching ribs as she slowly climbed to her feet. “C’mon,” she murmured softly, knowing it was unnecessary. He’d happily follow her anywhere. He was a good companion.
By now, it was nearly time for her to start her morning. She tried to recall if she had anything she couldn’t reschedule, and finally deciding she didn’t made the decision not to go into work today.
Moving into the living room, she settled on one end of the sofa, patting the space beside her. She wasn’t troubled by Ky’s love of the furniture and didn’t mind encouraging it. And right now, she wanted the comfort of another warm body near hers.
Today, she thought, this might be as far as she was going. She could worry about what to do regarding her impending death later. For now, this was what she needed, this was enough.