the permanent escape

chapter nine ~ eden

Fuck.

This is just going to destroy me in the end.

My whole body hurts, and burns, I feel nauseous, I feel like I'm going to faint and I cannot get comfortable in this car in any way.

But in the end, I kinda feel like I'm fucked anyway. If I don't tell Blake why I'm like this, he's gonna take me to the hospital.

But I know what's going on with me...

But the thing is, if I tell him what's actually going on, I feel like if he knows the truth, he'll still take me to the hospital.

"Uhh... I, um–" I stutter on my words, trying to figure out a way to downplay the issue.

"Eden, now. I'm not playing," Blake says sternly.

"I–I'm... sick," I say quietly.

I feel like I could have worded that better. The mere thought of Blake thinking I'm the contagious kind of sick, is enough to actually make me sick.

"You're sick?!" he asks. He sounds puzzled.

"Not the kind of sickness you're thinking of," I reply.

He sighs. "And what is that supposed to mean?" he asks.

"I've been this way for as long as I can remember. I just end up in pain most of the time. Through my whole body. I get queasy and dizzy and lightheaded like I'm gonna pass out. It's usually easier to manage but it got so much worse after everything happened," I say, stuttering through my words, trying not to cry.

"So... what, you're telling me that you're chronically sick? Is that what it is?" he asks.

I nod.

"Is there a reason for why it's getting worse or does it just happen?" he asks.

I take a deep breath. This is the part that I'm afraid of sharing.

"I have a prescription," I say, "But my stepfather has been withholding it and I've had no way of getting it, but if I'm off it for more than a few days, this happens."

"Is there a name for this condition?" he asks.

I shrug my shoulders. "I don't exactly remember. I was told I've had it since I was born and I got diagnosed when I was five, but it took them forever to figure out what was wrong with me. I remember when I was a kid, the doctors were telling my parents how rare it is," I say.

"Can you tell me the name of your medication?" he asks.

"Why do you want to know that?" I ask. I bring my knees up to my chest in an attempt to calm myself down.

"So... what if I told you that I can get you your medication, without sending you to the hospital?" he replies.

"H–How?" I ask.

"I told you last night, I'm a paramedic. I can get access to certain prescriptions if I can prove why I need them," he says.

"I–I–I–uhhhh..."

"Eden, I'm going to get you your medication. Which you clearly need. You're not well," he says.

I sigh. "I guess that's fine. Do you have a piece of paper and a pen?" I ask.

"In the glovebox. Why do you need that?" he asks.

"I can't pronounce the name," I say.

I open the glovebox and reach into it. Once I find the pen and paper I write down the name of my medication. I can spell it but I can't pronounce it.