Cecilia considered that offer, and found she didn't want to display weakness to Oliver. Which was ridiculous. She fully recognized that. It didn't stop her from feeling that way, and damned if she knew why.
Well, no. She knew why. Because she'd spent three days having not one but all of her triggers glued to full throttle, and she really just wanted to hide on her own until she evened out again. She did not have that option, and even if she did? She wouldn't have taken it. People in this house needed her. She might have been putting at least half the pressure on herself, but it was still there, and that only made it all worse.
"I got it," she mumbled, walking over to the sink and hugging her duffel bag to her chest. She took a ragged breath and coughed, her breath coming in gasps and wheezes until she coughed up a wad of mucus. She was not at all pleased with the greenish-yellow shade, but it could have been worse. She turned the water on and rinsed it down the drain. When Oliver explained himself, she decided to leave the water running to muffle their voices. "That's your business, I guess," she said, voice rough, "but I doubt he'll thank you for it." She set her bag on the sink and sat down, holding out her hands for his injured one. "Do you think-" Whatever she was gonna say was lost when she lowered her eyes to said hand. Her eyes bulged slightly, and she looked up at Oliver again. "Jesus Christ, Oliver. How has he not noticed this?"