I wake in the early hours of the morning with a strange feeling in my stomach.
My eyes burn from my lack of sleep. I'd stayed up all night staring at the ceiling after I'd learnt about Beckett and Sof.
I wish it didn't bother me as much as it does. I wish I felt happy. Maybe I would have been if it had been last year. I would have loved them together then. Now, everything is so much more complicated.
I didn't think I'd be surrounded by memories of them everywhere when I came home. I thought my fresh start really would be upheld. I didn't think I'd have to try so hard to move on.
I loved Sof. Of course, I did. I just wasn't sure if I wanted the reminder of what's been lost looming over me like a dark cloud. Who knows how often she'd hang around the bar to see Beckett. I may need to find myself a new job.
With a groan, I roll over onto my stomach, reaching for my phone on the nightstand. Beckett has called me six times since I left work early last night. Cash had made me leave as soon as he saw the vomit. Even when I'd promised him I wasn't sick.
Although, now I'm second-guessing myself. My stomach clenches and I grit my teeth in pain. Perspiration drips against my forehead as I move my aching limbs to sit against the headboard.
My phone begins to vibrate in my hand and I look down, noting Davina's ID. I let it go to voicemail, ignoring her for the millionth time in the days since I've been home.
I know how persistent she is. She won't give up until she's got what she wants. I'm just not sure she'll be able to have me back this time. Guilt will continue to gnaw at me until the day I die.
Which, by the way I'm currently feeling, could be any second now.
"Fuck," I groan.
Bile begins to rise up my throat. I clutch my mouth closed, running towards my bathroom just in time to empty the remaining contents of my stomach. I don't remember the last meal I ate.
Shaking and shivering, I lean over the bowl, breathing hard. With an unsteady hand, I grab the hair tie around my wrist as I call my brother.
He doesn't answer. I try Maya and Lay who both don't answer either.
I just want some medicine. Anything to make me feel even slightly better.
My phone flashes with another text from Beckett asking how I am. I clench my eyes shut, moving to rest my head against the tiles beneath me.
"Hello?"
Of course, he has to be the one person who answers the phone. Just perfect.
"Hey," I croak. "I feel like shit. Can you bring me a bunch of medicine? I don't know what it is, but literally, just bring a truck full of shit. I'll try anything."
"Slow down," he says, worried. "What do you mean you feel like shit? Like sick? Because you vomited yesterday?"
"Maybe," I whisper. "Probably. I just feel dizzy and sweaty and I'm puking my guts up so please send help."
He sighs, cursing under his breath. "I can't right now. I'm at work still. Overnight shift. But I'll get someone else to bring you some stuff, alright?"
"Not Sofia," I say abruptly. "Please."
"Rhea—"
"Please," I say again. "Anyone but her. I can't—"
"Okay. I'll try my best. I could always just get her to drop it at the door though—"
"Fine. Whatever. At the door. But try someone else first please," I beg.
He says he'll try and hangs up quickly, telling me to get back to bed and wait until someone arrives. I do exactly that, falling back to sleep instantly.
---------------------------------------
Pounding. So loud. Why is it coming right from outside my room?
Louder and louder. Who the fuck?
"Let me sleep," I whine, turning over to face my bedroom door.
The covers are coated in sweat, slick with my own perspiration. My hair sticks to my forehead, curling at the ends.
The door creaks open and I know I should be concerned about how this stranger has come into my house, but I don't have the will to care.
Did I leave the front door open?
"You're not very good at hiding your spare key," the voice says. "You'd think after everything you'd know better."
I crack an eye back open, grunting. "Medicine?"
"Jesus, Rhea."
The bed dips and I feel a hand against the side of my head, pushing away the strands of my hair. "You're burning up."
I recognise the voice. It's so familiar to me. A voice I knew so well once.
"Who are you?" I rasp.
"I'll get you some water."
They go to stand but I grab their wrist with the strength I still have remaining. "Who are you?" I repeat quietly, trying to focus my vision.
I blink a few times trying to clear the fog. The stranger who cannot really be a stranger begins to become a person. Not just any person.
A person I once loved with my entire heart until it shattered in two.
Brax.
I know I start screaming. I can feel the rawness in my throat, the scratching tenderness of something used too much. Something abused and needing repair.
He grabs me, pulling me towards his chest but I'm punching and kicking and I can feel the tears before I begin to sob so loudly that my heart seems to ache.
"You're dead," I say, clutching at the sides of my head.
Surely I cannot be hallucinating now too. Surely I'm not going crazy.
"You're dead. You're dead. You're dead."
"Hey," he says to me. "Rhea. Calm down. It's not—"
"You're dead. You left me," I sob. "You're not really here anymore. Please go. Please go. You're dead."
"Rhea. It's me. It's Xavier. It's not—I'm not Brax."
He's clutching me so close to his chest that I can't move. I hear everything he says and a part of me is disappointed that I could truly believe that Brax could ever come back.
He slowly lets me go as I fall back against the bed. I feel myself deflating, the presence of my sickness taking a hold of me.
"Sorry," I whisper, closing my eyes. "I—"
"You don't need to explain," he clears his throat. "I've left some supplies here. I'll grab you a glass of water, okay?"
"Okay," I whisper, feeling my lip beginning to quiver. "Okay, Brax."
When the room falls silent again, only then do I let myself blame the sickness for my instability and wallow in my own tears.