Who: Vivianna What: Sick- Narrative or OTA if anyone wants to visit a sick woman When: Monday Evening Where: Her Room Warnings: None
She felt like hell. She felt like hell had risen up and engulfed her in the deepest circle imaginable and was pouring fire and pain down on her like a torrential rain. What she had was a bad case of the flu. It had started coming on about two weeks ago and she was headed into her third week of it. She knew that the flu could last weeks at a time, but she'd never experienced it. She rolled over on her bed and curled herself into a ball. She was shivering violently and had the bed covers pulled up to her chin.
Her jaw hurt from her teeth chattering, and her whole body was aching. Frustrated tears slipped out of her eyes and dampened her pillow. She couldn't remember ever feeling like this and for the first time in her life she was wishing for death. She'd seen a lot of sick and wounded people in her time as a doctor and resident, and she had never understood why some of her patients wanted to die rather than fight the disease that ailed them. She understood now. Falling asleep and never waking up again was starting to sound mighty appealing.
She'd had visitors, but half the time she wasn't lucid enough to even speak to them. She had moments of clarity, they were just few and far between. Now was one of those times, and though she couldn't think about anything other than how much she wished her body would stop wracking with violent shivering, her mind was clear. More tears slid down the side of her face, into her damp hair. She hadn't moved in at least five days and she knew that her room smelled like sickness and unwashed body, but she knew she'd pass out if she even tried to stand up at this point. She had no choice but to ride it out.