It's in the Genes

Admitting

"Sybil said you were really out of it yesterday," he continued. "Are you feeling worse?"

"Sybil is worrying about me too much," I replied, folding my arms against my chest. Yesterday, her eyes lingered on me throughout our trip and even when we were home. I felt the burn of anger and humiliation, and the heavy weight of shame. A fourteen-year-old girl should be worrying about her looks, her friends, having fun. My sickness was causing Sybil distress that she shouldn't have to deal with, and I hated it.

"Somehow, I doubt that," Niall said, exhaling long and deep from his nose as he leaned back in his chair. His gaze stayed on me. Each word was tightly spoken, betraying his frustration.

His tone irritated me, and I didn't appreciate the third-degree so early in the morning—not that I would have appreciated being called out any other hour of the day either. "Can you not?" I snapped, feeling the mucus in my lungs begin to itch its way up to my throat after I spoke.

"Not what?" Niall asked. "Give a damn about your health?"

I rolled my eyes. "No. Not interrogate me about something I said don't want to talk about right after I wake up."

"Oh, I'm sorry for asking about something important," he replied.

"I don't understand why this is a big deal for all of you. You're not even the ones sick!"

His cheeks were tinged pink, as were his ears. "It's not like we care about you. It's not like what happens to you affects the rest of us."

"Don't give me that shit," I shot back, holding back a cough I felt growing in throat. "You know damn well that even if we knew what the hell this was, it wouldn't do any good."

"No, I don't know that!" Niall replied, scowling. "Maybe if we looked at your symptoms, we could do research and find something out. See how bad it really is. Find some kind of remedy. Hell, steal medicine if we had to. Just do something."

I let out a bitter laugh, which descended into a coughing fit that left my ribs aching. When I could finally breathe normally again, I looked back up at Niall, who watched on with an expression of concern and sadness, even in the midst of his frustration and anger.

"Or maybe, WebMD tells us it's some incurable autoimmune disease, a rare virus, or cancer. Or maybe it gets everything wrong because my DNA is so fucked up. Maybe our 'research' gives us more questions than answers, and everyone just gets more anxious because there isn't a damn thing we can do," I replied, my own voice rising in volume. "Maybe Parker and Sybil have to grow up faster than they should have to because they're so busy worrying about me. Just like we had to. Wouldn't that be fucking great?!"

I flung out my arm in a mocking gesture, mirroring the dramatic movements Niall always made. "Yeah, Niall, let's do research! Let's talk to Sybil and Parker. Get them in on it. Maybe we can all look shit up. Maybe we can all be fucking terrified together. You know, because we're a family! Because what happens to me affects everyone. Great idea, Niall!"

By the time I finished, I was breathing heavy, my chest heaving and heart was racing. Inhaling was like trying to suck air in through a straw. I barely avoided another coughing fit.

Niall stared back at me, his eyes wide, looking surprised and hurt. I may as well have slapped him across the face. For a long time, he said nothing.

"That's not what I want," he finally whispered, looking down. "And that's not what I meant."

Guilt pricked in my chest and I felt its weight crash down on me as I watched Niall. That wasn't fair of me to say at all. He was just trying to help. He cared about me, and was probably scared too—I thought about how I would feel if the roles were reversed and he was the sick one with some mysterious illness. My heart froze just considering the possibility. He had made me such a nice breakfast too, only for me to act like a jerk and lash out at him.