Beasthood

~Chapter 7- Dupe~

He watched as Jaz glanced at her aunt and uncle before popping something into her mouth, downing any trace of it with several gulps of orange juice.

Driver frowned -which to him wasn’t much different from his ordinary expression- causing the crease between his brows to deepen a little more as he watched her swallow. The curiosity was still brewing beneath the surface but the realization that there was no turning back now, blazed like a red hot poker in his gut.

Jaz drank half of her juice. Then she quietly clicked the lid of her pills bottle closed, dropping it into her bag. She stuffed the bag in its nook between her hip and the door. When she checked that no one had seen, it was then that she let her eyes slip to the mirror.

This time he wasn’t looking at her, and the tension that she'd felt when she'd prepared herself to snap her eyes away, faded. She watched him without his knowledge. It was a good minute before she’d even realized she’d been staring and when she finally peeled her eyes away, she noticed she had difficulty moving them. They felt sluggish as if she’d just woken up. It was a strange feeling. She stretched her lids wide as she forced her eyes open. Her lids still felt heavy. Stupid iron pills, she thought irritably. She hated taking them.

No, she hated the fact she had to take them, she corrected herself.

She was a young woman, fit, healthy, ate well, drank plenty of water, exercised, and yet she couldn’t do anything about her severe iron deficiency anaemia. She’d had it since she was a small child. I was diagnosed when I was five, she remembered. Ever since then she’d had to take two iron tablets daily, and had to go to the hospital to have one injection per week for five weeks at a time. Then she'd have a break, somewhere up to a year, maybe more if the pills and her diet were working. Usually not. The doctors didn't know why.

It was hell.

The fact that she had to rely on them to survive the day really pissed her off. She hated relying on anyone or anything. Her own body should work and be able to absorb the iron itself. It should, but it didn’t. And no doctor could explain why.

There was no cure, just a lifelong treatment of popping pills and injections.

Some days she felt so weak she had to lie in bed. Her anaemia wasn’t the norm, but it was the closest explanation anyone could find for her symptoms.

She needed the pills; even more, she needed her strong dosage of shots. Without any of them, she’d die.

She wasn’t sure if it was because she was ashamed of it, but she just didn’t want anyone knowing. The only people who knew about it were her parents. If she’d had any choice, they wouldn’t know about it either. She wasn’t about to tell her aunt or uncle.

Yet even with these pills she still felt tired. God damn it. “Do you mind if I roll down the window?” she asked, loud enough for all to respond.

“Not at all,” her uncle replied.

Her aunt spoke over him. “Are you too warm?”

“No, um, just want some fresh air.”

“Sure, open it.”

This time she didn’t see the exchange of glances between her aunt and Driver through the mirror.

She pressed the button, the window rolled down an inch and the fresh air attacked her face. It was exhilarating and helped her tiredness ease a little. “Let me know when it gets cold,” she called over the loud whistling of air as the car sped down the motorway.

“Sure,” her aunt mumbled.

*