What If? (5)

9K 82 21
                                    

Recap:

“I’m sorry, not pregnant” The doctor said.

Weird. I felt… sad? How can I be bothered by this? I mean, I am being forced here, but yet I’m upset.

Maybe because after seeing Penelope with Rosie, it just made me think of children. Gosh I’m sick!

I guess I’ve always pictured myself with a family.. I’m nuts! I should be put in the loony house!

I got off the chair and followed Jack back to the room in silence.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help your race” I said.

He smiled a small smile and then laid on the couch.

I could tell he was in deep thought by the way he smiled..

………………………………..........................................................................................

I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been here, I guess two and a half months or so.

Ugh, I caught whatever sickness Zoey had. I felt like I was dying. I whimpered in the bed as I attempted to sit up.

“Just lay down, what do you need?” Jack asked.

“I need.. My mommy” I whined.

“What does your mom do when you’re sick?”

“She makes the extremely salty corn chowder, then sings to me, then she turns on Casablanca, which I hate because old films freak me out.. You know, maybe my mom wasn’t the best care taker” I coughed.

“Well, I can make you soup and give you an official Twiad book” He flashed a smile.

I tried to give a small smile of approval, but of course I was so weak that it turned into a grimace and some puking into a little orange bucket.

Jack held my hair and looked out the little unbreakable window so he wouldn’t throw up like I did.. Like he did earlier when I threw up fish and it smelled horrible.

It was hysterical until his throwing up, made me throw up more.

“Here’s some vegetable soup, please just try to eat it” He handed it to me.

He lifted me up so that I was sitting up, then he propped the soup onto a little tray on my lap.

I lifted the spoon and took a bite, only to throw it up into the gross orange bucket.

“My cooking cant be that bad” He said with a smile playing on his lips.

“Not your cooking.. My stomach”

“I need to take your temperature.. Bend over”

“Excuse me?”

“I was just messing with you, you should have seen the look on your face” He chuckled and shook his head.

“Jerk”

I coughed and stuck the thermometer in my mouth.. Beep, beep, beep. Jack looked at it and took the soup off my lap.

“What?” I asked.

“Your fever is too high, I need to cool you down” He said quickly.

He lifted me up and then carried me out the door and then in minutes we were outside the great wall that I had dug under a month or so ago.

It was super chilly out here, unnatural because I was out here just a week or so ago when Jack let me walk around inside the wall, and it was hot out then.

What if?Where stories live. Discover now