While The Sun is Up

chapter 7 | oh, calamity

"Are you okay?"

"I don't think so."

She panicks, placing the back of her hand on my forehead, finding out about my-above normal body temperature.

I got abruptly awoken by the heat blanketing my whole body every now and then since 4 in the morning today. The last three days have been really tough, with the boundless piles of school assignments to complete in the very last minute, as usual, leaving me with no choice but to pull an all-nighter. I've been sleep deprived then.

"Adeline your body is very warm. You're sick. We are going to the doctor now," she announces, jerking out of my spacious bedroom so fast that I didn't have the time to reject her offer. Well, it is more of an instruction than an offer. Her instruction alerts my gut in fear.

The hospital sits on the second row of my nightmare list after insects; specifically roaches. After being destined by the head of the insects kingdom to terror my entire 17 years of breathing, I strongly approve that roaches have satisfied their king and queen since the second I was born.

Let's travel back in time, recalling one flashback story of a happy roach roaming around my kitchen floor, making an attempt to halt my good afternoon as I savour the rich and fudgy brownies, freshly made from the house oven. Heck, it was heaven and hell at an instant.

"What the hell!" I exclaimed, hopping to the the granite countertop from the padded bar stool, sharing the same level with my half-empty plate of heaven brownies and my phone. An intense stare occurred between the little brown-almost black, stone sized devil and my hooded hazel eyes, creating tension through the distance. And guess what? It had its antenna wagging, duplicating dogs asking for attention. But attention will be the last I would ever give to that thing. My only two solutions were:

i) To escape

ii) To die on location

And the second option was more likely to happen because the devil was now fencing the space between the counter that's supporting my body and the door to the living room. And that's when I thought it's time to prepare my death letter. At the same time, I heard an unpleasant squeak coming from the second floor of the two-storey house, winning my own disaster.

Aiden.

Yes, the 21 years old Aiden Wade, childishly whining on whatever video game he was currently playing. It was four days after christmas, where he comes back from Arizona to celebrate the holiday together with the family. And at the time, Mom and Dad were out for grocery shopping.

I grabbed my phone that was sitting 10 centimetres away from me and dialled Aiden's number.

The other line answered the call with a curse and a deafening sound of screeching tires on the background. Since the second he stepped on the house porch three months ago, he's gone nowhere else but his PS4. Home is where the victory begins. I hate it when he and his soulmate meets. "Hey yes what's up?" he exasperated.

"Come down and help me!"

"Adeline? Why are you calling me on my phone? We are only 5 metres away so why don't come you up and I'll hel–"

"I said come down now, there is no time. Don't make me repeat my self please before I cry!"

"Shit but–"

"Aiden please!" I yelled.

I ended the call and waited for my fate to come.

After a minute that felt like a century, my only help trudged to where I was, looking all lost and asked, "What happened?"