Twilight belongs to Stepenie Meyer
Catching the flu
~Edward~
"Mom? Dad? Are you home?" I called as I entered our grand house in Chicago. I had been feeling terrible all day long. The morning started out with an ache in my head and throat this morning. Then as sudden as it had started out, it vanished. But then later on I started coughing, and my nose started to bleed without any possibilities to stop it. As I walked down the hallway, my eyes all of a sudden started to sting as if thousands of bees were stinging me. I looked into the mirror on the wall next to me. My eyes had a reddish tint, what was happening to me? Deep inside of me I knew the answer to my own question, it was the flu. I called their names and continued through the house, and that was when I found her. My mother was lying on the floor of her bedroom. "MOM!" I screamed and ran over to her. Within seconds I had scooped her up and was running out of the house. Luckily the hospital was just around the corner, but I never made it that far. Just meters from the entrance, a wave of dizziness hit me; I fell to the ground with my unconscious mother still in my arms
The headache had started again, now worse than earlier. Or was it really earlier? What time is it? Where am I? All I knew was that I was lying in an unfamiliar bed and that it was absolutely not comfortable. Well it wasn't really the bed that was uncomfortable, it was the fact that most of my body hurt; my eyes, ears, back, throat, head and tongue. In addition I was sweating like I was inside a burning building. I had read about the flu for so long, but I had never imagined it would actually come to Chicago. A small pair of hands were working on me, tucking me in and making sure I was alright. I knew then that my mother was still with me, but I didn't have the strength to acknowledge her presence. Instead I just lay there, waiting for the disease to pass.
I had completely lost track of time. I could have been lying here for minutes, hours, days or even weeks. That my condition was worse I knew for sure. Not that it gave me any track of time. Occasionally I could hear or feel the doctors as they worked on my lifeless body. My mother would sit by my bed and hold my hand, talking for an endless amount of time until the doctor told her to get back in her own bed. From the talking I knew that my father was dead, he had apparently died right after he arrived at the hospital. Although I could not stop hoping, I knew it was in vain. I would die soon; I lay in my bed waiting for it to happen at any moment. From what I picked from the doctors' conversations, my mother was making it even worse for herself trying to take care of me. All I wanted was to tell her that she should think of herself for a change, to stop worrying about me. I was seventeen for crying out loud, I was a man who was supposed to be fighting in the Great War. But I was too weak to even tell her all of this.
When I suddenly was flying through the air, I knew I was dead. This had to be the flight to heaven or something like that. It felt like someone was carrying me through the air, someone with uncomfortably cool skin. Somehow I felt like a child again, because I wanted to ask this someone if we would be there soon, wherever we were headed. We finally stopped after flying for a really long time, but somehow I doubted we were really where we were supposed to be. I still felt the same as I had throughout the flu. The person laid me carefully on a soft bed, what was happening? Then suddenly it felt like my entire being was set on fire, every single part of me burned. Had I ended up in hell? I let out a piercing scream, but it did nothing to the pain that was getting worse every second.