Chapter 13 Ill Pt. 3

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   Caleb's POV

   I decided to keep Angela's synopsis on hold while I scrolled the virtual pages of the current findings, theories, and hopefully, a possible cure and/or solution to this problem. The sections were each dated, and organized by topic with the cross-references of fainting and physique. Many more were listed, but those two in particular were the most relevant and practical for what I knew thus far. I skimmed through the foreign lettering in the first article quizzically, most terms I understood, but Uncle had mentioned things I've never heard of before—Gastroesophageal reflux disease, or GERD, for example.

   I continued to delve deeper and branched out the different excerpts from specific articles, trying to gain some sort of understanding. Uncle's part of the analysis was mostly directed at Angela's migraines, and its stages' effects on her condition. It read:

   Out of the four know stages of migraines, Angela only seems to show signs of three: Prodrome, Aura, and Attack. She experiences migraines that last a couple of hours up to more than two days, evidently suggesting that she most likely has the persistent aura without infraction level of intensity—which, thankfully, is not as severe as chronic migraines or status migrainosus. Angela's fainting may also be something more complex than Syncope. Hypoglycemia may be the source of both her migraines and fainting. Finding a way to dig deeper into the matter could lead us to find something...

   He continued to ramble on about how we needed to keep her glucose levels just a little above average, and about his unlikely theory of mixed chemical signals to her endocrine system, which might prevent us from doing so. I sighed and tugged at my mess of hair in frustration, disheveling it. None of this seemed to help, all of it was mere speculation, and none of the subjects that were touched on could be completely solidified—if not even a bit.

   Someone noticed my distress, and tapped on my shoulder reassuringly. "Don't be so down about this," Kayla said lightly. "There's still more to do."

   Without turning, I asked her, "You've read it, then?"

   "Yes," she said, "but some of the things are a bit...out of the box." I felt her breathe out. "Although, I do think that Uncle's thoughts of Angela's head problems could be somewhat ethical."

   "I'm sure," I tutted quietly, then got up from my seat dreadfully. I really didn't feel like filling Uncle in on what's been happening, nor answering the constant flow of questions he might have for me. The thought of having to talk about blood disgusted me enough as it is. So I decided to ignore that subject completely. Kayla backed away from me and hummed before returning to whatever she'd been doing before. I keeled my head and closed my eyes for a bit, then assumed a regular position. I might as well go out for a walk or something, my entire body hurts and aches everywhere.

So, without giving myself much time to change my mind, I ran up the heated stairway and out the front door. I walked around the neighborhood with no specific setting in mind—honestly, I just wanted to get out of the sickly environment that has lingered around my home. As much as I wanted to lose myself into finding a cure, my mind is too fogged to do anything right now. The sooner Angela gets better, the sooner everything will get back to normal—like seeing less of Carter.  I looked up at the clearing sky woefully.

   I wished Kayla wasn't so much like Uncle, or our parents. They were all overly ambitious, stubborn, and instinctive; many characteristics that I am proud to say I don't have, because if I did, not only would I have a knack for making mistakes, but I would continue making them, eventually getting what I'd wanted one way or another. I've learned and payed for them by serving a year in Juvie—which to say the least, was pretty boring—so I don't plan to do any thing like that again. I wasn't all to blame for it, though, Carter had his fair share of what we did, yet somehow I got to be punished. It brings me to say, that because of him and what he pulled, I knew better than to cross paths with the likes of him ever again. It makes me shiver, just remembering how he'd persuaded me to hide myself, to take all those things, and all only for him to keep it for himself and disappear. Tch, pathetic.

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