“If you didn’t just blink I would’ve sworn you were dead, that’s how sickly you’re looking. Go to bed, please!”
He managed to shake his head as her voice hit his ears, staring straight ahead at the empty chairs of the recreation room. He couldn’t stay in his room - the beeps and clicks of the machine were too much when he was feeling like this. Each beat of the heart monitor made him more conscious of his illness, of his situation.·
Sweat beaded against his brow and his eyes were unfocused as he sat sprawled in one of the recreation room chairs, lips dry and cracked. He could see why she had thought he was dead. It hurt to even breathe let alone blink and move around. He tried to limit all three of those while on the medicine. Widget wasn’t even sure how he’d gotten to the recreation room but apparently being in his room had not been an option. It was as if it was too small a space to contain the pain he was feeling.·
The night nurse. She didn’t take his nonsense and he had plenty of that to give when he was feeling peppier. Why did it have to be her? “Don’t put me back in that room,” he growled weakly, trying to sound threatening as he swallowed back a wave of nausea.·
How did something that was supposed to be fighting for his body make him feel so awful? “Or I’ll...” He couldn’t finish the thought, the threat dying in his throat. He had nothing to gamble with. Kill himself? That was already happening. And he didn’t have the energy to make good on a threat of vandalization of hospital property.·
