Matt & Doe | Complete

Chapter 15

That entire morning had been horrible for me. I definitely hadn't been feeling like myself and was ready to topple over at any moment.

“Whatever you're going to say...yes,” I stopped Doe before she could talk.

“Wow,” she said dryly, “All this for nothing.”

“That's not true,” I laughed, shocked at her words, “What about experience.”

Hell, I sounded like Doe on a good day.

Her look of annoyance pierced right through me.

Ava, as well as nearly a quarter of the orphans would be reunited with their families, all while being supported by the organisation. What was so wrong about that?

Minutes later, I was met with a strange feeling sitting in my stomach. I poked at the poached eggs on my plate, until one of them punctured and I watched the yolk ooze and travel across the dish. There was a subtle red lining caught up in it.
I gazed at the sticky mixture until I lost my appetite.

I rose from the table and stumbled over to the sink. I put several glasses of tap water to my head and stood there clutching the counter. I was on the verge of passing out.

“What's up with you?” Hannah stopped in her tracks, while holding a tray of fresh toast.

I saw Doe stand and in the corner of my eye, make her way to the kitchen.

She must have realised something bizarre.

“Nothing,” I turned on the tap again and let ounces flow into my cup, then forced them down my throat.

“OH. MY. GOD!” I heard Doe's alarmed tone.

She swung open the kitchen door, yelling something back in the room. Doe marched over, collecting the tray of eggs and my plate.

“Gosh,” I said.

“Matthew. What?” she peered at me.

“Gosh.” I corrected her again, as she would, “Not, 'God'.”

I braced myself, but thankfully she took a deep breath and stopped.

Hannah and Doe disappeared back into the kitchen and I looked on from the small window.

“Where is the common sense in this place? Mrs. Evergreen is gonna wonder about this,” Doe chided a group of the volunteers. She was definitely referring to the batch of food.

Well, dang. What a sight.

Doe's POV

For the remainder of the day, I kept a close eye on Matthew waiting for him to collapse.

One bad egg meant the entire crate had to be thrown away. For some stupid reason, that had never happened in the kitchen. And it was with the very first batch.

The sudden discovery had given me a pulsing headache, and I took two tablets to recover from it. Headaches had always been my body's way of telling me I was overworked, or just over-excited. And they were nothing new or surprising to me.

Like usual, I set a reminder or two for the next couple of hours to help the pain subside.

The fundraising committee briefed the rest of us volunteers around noon, and when Matthew stood to contribute he looked woozy and unsteady, but not in a way that everyone could have noticed.

From since the night before, I had noticed his condition but this was the icing on the cake.

“You're outrageous,” one of the other kitchen volunteers leaned over and told me, regarding earlier today.

“I work at a restaurant, you wet sock,” I snapped at him, then apologised after about a minute.

The rest of the day ran by smoothly, and Matthew was fine until the last minute.

It was at a random hour that night when I woke to the sound of retching and splashing.

The white bathroom light escaped from underneath the door and flooded a pathway in the dark room. I turned back to where Matthew slept and saw the space empty.

Geez.

I stood, adjusting my bonnet and gown, then lightly knocked on the bathroom door.

There was a series of sputters and coughs before complete silence.

“Matthew?” I called, putting my hand on the doorknob, “I'm coming in...” I warned him before entering the small space.

He was kneeling before the open toilet bowl with beads of perspiration formed at the back of his neck and forehead. I stayed close behind him and tried my best to massage his shoulders.

“How bad is it?” I spoke nervously, ripping pieces of toilet paper to pat dry his drenched, sticky skin.

Before getting the chance to answer, Matthew had a repercussion - or two - of his earlier actions which caused him to wrap an intense clutch around his stomach. He heaved dryly and gave in to his body's urgency one final time.

I left, returning with my water bottle. I shut the cover of the toilet and flushed it.

Matthew stood shakily to sit on the closed bowl with his head between his knees. He groaned in unmixed, unrefined discomfort. When I offered him some water, he refused.

“No...Doe -” he coughed out, then breathed, “I need a doctor.”

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