"What time is it?"
"Uh, 9:17. Wait, no. It's 11:17." Chloe corrects herself, holding her hand to my forehead. Her cool skin soothes the burning flesh.
I want to respond, but all that comes out is a lengthy groan.
"You know, maybe we should take you to the hospital." Chloe says, checking the thermometer in my mouth. The look on her face says that the results aren't the best.
"No, no." I shake my head weakly, "I'm fine."
Chloe lays an insistent hand on my shoulder. "Max, you're on fire. Literally." Not literally. "And I've never seen anyone throw up that much in one go. This isn't healthy."
"It's just the flu-" I'm interrupt by my own coughing, "it's perfectly fine."
Chloe frowns, "you don't actually believe that. You know what this is."
"Do I?"
Chloe says nothing.
"Do you?"
Silence again.
"That's what I thought." I say, sinking deeper underneath the blanket that Chloe provided me when the puking started.
Chloe stands, just to pace back and forth in front of the couch. Every time she walks past me, a rush of cool air blows by my face,. I lean into it.
"Seriously, Max. We need to do something." Chloe says, tapping her foot on the floor. When did she stop pacing?
"Just... uh..." I blank for a moment, "just call Warren."
"I think we've exhausted the Warren Card at this point." Chloe says, tapping her foot even more. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
"We can't do hospital, we don't have the money." I remind Chloe, then cough into my hand again. Chloe flinches at the sound.
"I know, but this is ridiculous."
My skin shudders, the feeling of twelve hundred little legs crawling over my skin from head to toe.
I҉t c͡er̛t͢ainly͝ ̨is,̨ ìs͘n͝'t i̕t͝, Ma̵x̸i̡ne?
Leave me alone.
"What?" Chloe asks, "I'm trying to help you, Max." Did I say that out loud? I didn't mean to. I mutter what I think is an apology, but I'm not quite sure how it sounds on the outside.
'What even are you?' I ask, this time making sure it's internal.
Y͏o͡u ̧k̛now ͟that queśtiơn, d͏on't̷ b͘e ̵si͜l̢l͢y͘.̶ ̴I̴'͠ve ̨bee̡n ̢ar͜oưn̨d͜ forever̕.͏ I͞'v̡e̢ j͘ust̛.͏. c̷hange̴d̵ ͝a ̛l͡i͡t̕tle͞ b͜it͠
It's the voice. The one I've been hearing since that damn storm hit. The one that used to sound like Chloe, but now...?
Th͢e͡r̀e y͘ou ǵo̵, ̵n͞ow҉ ͘y҉o̶u͘'r͡e gett͝i̢n̢g th̕e ḩa̡ǹg ̛of it͡
'What do you want from me?' I ask, my head suddenly starts to hurt a lot more.
I̷ ̧wa̡nt͞ ̀y̧ou͢ ͜safe, M̶ax̧
'Why?'
B̷e͟c̶au͟se͞ ̴w͢e͢ ̸ar̵e͢ ̧o̸ne,̸ ̧M͜ax.͢ ̴W̡itho͏ut̀ you, I̵ can'̷t exist.̸
'And who are you, exactly?'
"Max, listen to me!" Chloe shouts, her hands on my cheeks. I snap back to the present, laying on the floor with puke covering my shirt.
YOU ARE READING
Hellions of Arcadia
Fanfiction"If you died, would anyone care? Would they really care? Maybe, they'd cry for a day. But let's be honest, no one would give a shit, they wouldn't. That's who you are. That's what you are. You're nothing to no one." A continuation of the Sacrifice A...
