Between Life or Death (Stark's Daughter 6)

Chapter 9

I make up a drawing of a plane that transforms to an Iron Man, my dads drunk idea. I then bend down to pick up the box containing the fake plane engine. 

"I got it." Zeke offers, placing his hands over mine and lifting. The box isn't that heavy but he struggles. His pale face tightens as he lifts and carries it out to my car. 

"Thanks. We'll talk about the tour when i come back. I promise." I announce. 

Zeke drops the box in my car and turns to see me. 

"What is going on, Skye?" He questions. 

"I don't know. I just don't think now is the time to go around the world. I don't do it." 

"Everything isn't about you. This is my dream." He argues and marches back into the house. 

I sigh deeply, everything would be better if i told Zeke. 

I climb into the red ferari and drive off, leaving black tyre marks on the driveway as i speed out.

As i climb out of the car, i lift the fake engine in the box and ring the doorbell. Dad answers the door, wearing jeans and a t-shirt. His arc reactor shines through and he runs his hand through his hair. 

"Hey. What's that?" 

"The plane engine you ordered three days ago." I point out as i carry it in, trying to make the engine look heavy and joke that it is real. 

Dads eyes widen in shock. This prank will teach him a lesson about drinking. 

"Plane engine? I ordered?" He questions, stepping up to me. 

"You were drunk and said you wanted to make a plane that transformed to Iron Man. I told you not to, but you ordered the engine and drew this." I explain as i hand him the drawing i made. 

"I drew this?" He asks, his hands shaking as he reads the extremely detailed plan that i made up. 

"Yes." 

"But i was drunk. How could i do this?" 

"Haha!" I scream as i burst out laughing, the sound filling the empty house. 

"What? This isn't funny!" 

"It is, because i made it all up to teach you a lesson about drinking." I honestly explain. 

"You little!" He curses. 

"Don't keep drinking then!" I scold him. 

"Don't try to change me." He replies and throws the paper drawing at me. 

I burst out laughing then hand him the fake engine. 

"You shouldn't be carrying this after your accident." Dad points out as he places it on the kitchen counter. 

"Im fine, everyone needs to stop fussing." I point out. 

"Come here." He demands. 

I send him a questioning look and take a few steps towards him. Dads eyes scan mine and i watch his face twitch slightly. 

Dad places the back of his cool hand on my forehead and i try to pull away from him. But he grabs my wrist and holds me still. Dad places his hand back on my forehead, i feel the coolness spread through my body and i sigh happily. 

"You've got an extremely high temperature. I wouldn't even call it a fever." He explains. 

"I know." I whisper, lowering my head. 

"You know? What's wrong?" 

"Nothing. Just an effect of the car accident." I lie. 

"Skye, you're sick. You need to go home and rest." Dad explains, taking my hand and dragging me to my car. 

"I don't want to! Dad, Im not a child." I point out as he opens the passenger side door of my car and helps me in, then pulls the seatbelt over my fevered body. 

"I know you're not a child, but you're my child." He reminds me and closes the door of my car.

Dad parks my car and i climb out, stumbling a little. 

"Are you okay?" He asks, placing an arm around my waist to keep me up 

"Fine." I mumble. 

Dad helps me up the steps and opens the front door of my house. I step inside and walk to the sofa, then i collapse onto it and lean my head over the arm rest. Dad hands me a glass of ice and i place it on my forehead, letting the condensation fall onto my face. 

"What's going on?" Zeke asks, appearing above my head. 

"Skye has an extreme temperature." Dad explains for me. 

"Ok, thanks for bringing her back." Zeke says. 

"I'll cut down on the drink." Dad suggests. 

"Promise?" I question. 

"Yes." 

"Say it properly." I demand. 

"I promise to cut down my drinking habit." He promises, ruffling my brown hair and marching out. 

"I knew you shouldn't have gone out today." 

"Please don't Zeke. Im not the type of person who stays in when they're sick, you know that." I point out. 

"Skye, you'll make yourself more sick." 

"I can't be more sick."

My watch beeps on my wrist and i slowly stand up. I stroll downstairs and sit in the desk chair. 

"Jarvis, one of the needles please." I order. 

A compartment opens on my desk and a needle is pushed out, standing proudly. I take it and stab myself, the metal pushing past my skin cells and releasing the chemicals into my bloodstream. 

I lean back in my chair and throw the needle into the rubbish tube. Then, i stand up and place the reading bracelets on my wrists.  

"Jarvis, scan me." I demand. 

A blue light appears at my feet and travels up my body, up to my hair and back down again. 

"86%." Jarvis announces. 

Only 14 days left. 2 weeks left. 

Until I no longer live.