Living Death

Chapter 16

"How long has she been like this?"

"Around three days."

I knew this voice and the rough brush of that hand on my brow. Dad.

"It started with a cough and a fever but then it got worse. She just seems like she's out of it."

Something cold prodded at my chest and I gasped, flinching at the pain it caused. "Hmmm," murmured the doctor. "Has she been coughing up mucus?"

"Yes."

"Any blood in the mucus?"

"Yes, but only today," my dad said, his voice wobbling.

"Ok..."

My eyelids were too heavy to open and my skin still felt as if it were made of hot coals. The doctor put his hand flat on my forehead and I half expected it to sizzle. Pockets of pain shot from my head and down my neck, but I barely had the strength to move my head to protest. Instead, all I could manage was a feeble moan as fire raged where his hand had made contact. It wasn't enough. The pain was so intense that I felt like screaming until every blood vessel in my body had burst.

The doctor sighed deeply and I was relieved to feel him move away from the bedside. "Has she eaten or drunk anything in the last forty-eight hours?"

"No."

"Ava?" The voice was gentle and close to my shoulder. I wanted to open my eyes to meet those of the doctor, but I couldn't even if I'd wanted to.

Over the past few weeks at school, I'd lost control of the shadows completely. They'd come every night, gathering in ferocity, shoving themselves down my throat with more force. I'd not slept and when I'd started finding myself unable to focus in lessons or even have a conversation, I'd given in. I'd tried for a while. I'd even apologised to the teacher and finished a piece of coursework due in; but I'd never got as far as handing it in. For the first time in weeks, I'd fallen asleep, but when I'd woken, my skin had been alight. I'd awoken from a dream and convinced myself that I was going to die. I remembered screaming. My dad had come in. He'd felt my skin.

"You're burning up," he'd muttered and proceeded to press cold compresses on my head. It had worked for a while, but he'd finally become exhausted. He couldn't wake me, he couldn't make me eat or drink and the only time I ever moved was when I coughed up mucus spotted with blood.

"Ava... Do you have any pain when you cough?" the doctor asked.

"No," I whispered, feeling as if razors were slicing into my vocal chords as I spoke. It was true; I didn't have pain when I coughed. Only – I had pain all of the time. It was a constant and I wasn't sure where the pain started and where I stopped. You could have stuck multiple needles in my eyes and bashed my skull in with rocks and I wouldn't have cared. That kind of pain probably would have been a welcome relief from this unending, excruciating torture.

"Any tightness in the chest? Breathlessness?"

"No," I gasped. The cold compress on my head was hot.

"How long has she been like this?"

"Around three days. It started with a cough and a fever but then it got worse. She just seems like she's out of it."

"Hmmm. Any mucus?"

"Yes."

"Any blood in the mucus?"

"Yes, but only today."

"Ok..."

My eyelids were on fire.

"How long has she been like this?"