Drea

Chapter eighteen: Cyan

PLEASE READ!
Hey guys! Sorry it's taken me a while to write this next chapter, it's just that I'm really struggling to come up with an ending for Drea. I have been thinking about it for days and I can't come up with anything that's not too cheesy or too sad, so I'm asking for help.
If you have any ideas for how I can end Drea, please let me know. Either leave a comment or private message me.
Thanks so much and I hope you enjoy this next chapter.
*************************************

I can feel myself getting weaker. Every few minutes my eyes drift closed only to snap back open a few seconds later, me not remembering where I am and how I got here, but then realisation hits me, like a ton of bricks, all over again. Nausea settles into my stomach. I clench and unclench my jaw willing it to go away, nothing will come up anyway, I've been throwing it all up for the past few hours. I can't even look at food without feeling sick anymore.
I lean to my right and dry heave into the stale pile of vomit from the last pukefest I had.
I lean back breathing like I just ran a marathon. I swear my heart is beating triple the speed it's supposed to be.
I was hoping I was wrong. I was hoping that I was just a little sick, that I didn't have blood poisoning, but of course Lady Luck wasn't with me as usual. There's no doubt anymore. Red splotches dot my calf and they're steadily climbing up my thigh as the hours tick by.
I know this is what Drea was trying to prevent by putting my leg in this brace thing, but the blood poisoning was kinda inevitable. Truth be told, she did really good for what she had to work with. Maybe if we had some antibiotics or something?
My blanket lays in the corner of the cave deserted. I have no need for it anymore, it's useless. It's just so hot. Crazy I know, it's like minus thirty degrees, maybe colder, and I'm sweating like it's mid July.
My eyes start to droop without my permission. "No, no, no, no!" I whisper urgently. Another round of that confusing, awake but not awake, shit is coming. I hate it so much. I can't tell what's real and what's not. It's like the line between fantasy and real life is non-existent.
I dig my nails into my arm, trying to stay conscious. I feel little pricks of pain as my nails puncture my skin, causing little arcs of blood, the shapes of my finger nails, to cascade down my wrist and into my palm, making a small puddle of red. A small groan escapes my mouth as I dig my nails in deeper.
Just as I feel myself fading into that familiar lucid dream state, a deep, scratchy voice shocks me wide awake. "Who's there!?" It comes from just outside the caves entrance.
I stare at the little hole in shock. Someone's here! Someone's outside! Did Drea make it!? Is it someone coming to save me? Questions bombard my brain confusing me into silence.
"Who's there!?" He shouts as a warning this time.
"Don't bother trying to hide from me, I heard you make a noise!"
My voice sounds dry and cracked from lack of use as I stutter out my shocked reply, "I-I'm over h-h-here!"
I hear a dog bark and heavy boot steps as he walks toward the cave door. A huge dog bounds through the little hole and sniffs at my head, my legs, the massive pile of puke, everything basically. He's really big and he funnily reminds me of the Husky I owned as a child.
A mans head, covered in a bushy beard, bends down and peers at me through the hole, at first he looks like he's ready for a fight, but then he surveys the state of the cave and his features turn to confusion and disgust as he wrinkles his nose at the smell. I don't blame him. It must smell like hell in here. A mixture of vomit, piss, and body odour.
"I-I need help. I broke my s-shin and I can't walk. Please help me!"
His face softens a bit but he doesn't move. We stare in silence for a bit before I talk again.
"My name Cyan...... Did Drea send you?"
"Who's that?" He says gruffly.
"Drea Culvy. She's my sister, did she send you?"
"No. I don't know no Culvy girl. I'm just out doing some hunting, no Culvy girl sent me nowhere." He's obviously not from around here, not with that accent.
I bite my lip in agitation. Does he think I care that he's hunting! I'm close to death and he's telling me what he's doing for the day.
"Are you gonna help me...... Mr?" I add on quickly trying to be polite.
He looks around him like he trying to decide between carrying on with his hunting or helping me so I won't die.
"I don't know boy, I'm trackin' a massive buck right now. Some good meat on that one, I'll tell ya."
Is he fucking serious!?
I'm on the verge of death and he's worried about a fucking deer!
Just as I'm about to give him a whole minute of the most cursing he's heard in his life, he finally speaks.
"Fine!" His rough voice sighs after a minute of mumbling to himself about the buck and hunting it down.
"C'mere Skylos."
The dog barks before running back through the hole to the outside, tracking puke on his way out. His black and white fur disappearing from sight.
Weird. That was what our dog was called when Drea and I were little. We asked dad what the Greek word for dog was and it turned out to be Skylos. Pretty cool name of you ask me, I thought it was quite original though. Original for the  middle of Alaska anyway. He pets Skylos roughly on the head. "Now Skylos, you make sure you don't forget that Bucks scent, alright. We gotta help the kid now." He says before reaching an arm through the cave entrance. It's covered in thick, black hair and his skin is tanned. Something feels weird about it but I'm not sure what, then it clicks.
"You're not wearing a jacket."
He grins menacingly, "I know, it's just been so hot lately."
I glance outside. The snow is layered thick on the ground and the wind's blowing quite harshly. There's no way he should feel hot.
The only reason I'm hot because I have bacteria running through my blood stream.
My vision starts to fade and the heart breaking realisation hits me once again. I'm not saved.
None of this is real.