The Fight For Her Life
Chapter Two
Lizzie woke again to complete darkness. It didn't take her long to determine that it wasn't yet daylight, as she looked at her phone that she had left laying on the floor beside her, and pushed the power button. The clock on her phone read 3:15 a.m.
Lizzie sighed as she fell back onto her pillow, suddenly feeling wide awake. She could hear the soft snoring sound of Sam and Dean from the two queen beds not far from her. Lizzie snickered. Cuties, she thought.
She laid there on her back in her little nest for a while, trying to go back to sleep. But sleep wouldn't come.
Ah, well, Lizzie thought, rolling over on her side, and coiling her arm around her stuffed bunny Winston. Not the first time I've failed to sleep through the night.
She swallowed, then became aware that a wave of nausea had overtaken her. She swallowed again, trying to get back to sleep. But the nausea only seemed to increase. Minutes crept by like insects, and finally, only one thought remained in Lizzie's head: Get to the bathroom NOW!
Careful not to wake Sam and Dean, Lizzie slipped out of her nest, and crept to the bathroom, shut the door, and turned on the light, as she sank to her knees in front of the toilet bowl, holding her hair in her hands, as she vomited into the toilet.
She continued to dry heave for a few minutes even after there was nothing left for her to throw up. She groaned as she stood up, flushed the toilet, and walked over to the sink, where she turned on the cold tap and splashed some cold water on her face, and patted her face dry before turning off the light and heading back to bed.
As she lied down again, she thought Maybe this is just one of those twenty-four hour flu deals – no big. I've had the flu before. Nothing I can't handle!
However the nausea continued to linger long after her midnight trip to the bathroom. It was nearly six in the morning when she finally fell asleep.
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Lizzie opened her eyes, and this time it was daylight. Sunlight splashed into the room, as she slowly sat up and stretched. Her nausea hadn't subsided. If anything she felt worse than she had before. She felt sweaty, and feverish; also another symptom had presented itself; an annoying, stabbing pain in the middle of her stomach. Lizzie moaned softly, and pressed a hand to her abdomen. Strange, she thought. I didn't have this cramp last night.
"Morning, Liz!" said Sam happily, noticing his girlfriend was awake. "Morning,'' said Lizzie as she slowly got out of bed. Sam handed Lizzie a cup of coffee and her morning medication, before kissing her on the cheek. Lizzie smiled, and took her meds, and sat down at a table with her coffee.
"Where's Dean?" asked Lizzie. "In the shower,'' said Sam, jerking his thumb in the direction of the bathroom door. "Ah,'' said Lizzie as she took a sip of coffee and winced. The hot liquid made the cramp in her stomach intensify. She moaned, and put her cup on the table, and doubled over slightly, while clutching her abdomen, breathing heavily, which did not go unnoticed by Sam.
"You okay?' he asked looking slightly worried. "Fine,'' said Lizzie breathlessly, and putting on a brave smile. "It's just a cramp – It's not gonna kill me."
"You sure?" asked Sam uncertainly. "Yeah,'' said Lizzie. But then she sighed. She hated lying to Sam. "Maybe I'm coming down with something…"
"Come here,'' said Sam, walking over to Lizzie, and putting a hand on her cheeks and forehead. "You're burning up. You're sure you're feeling okay?" "I'll be fine,'' said Lizzie, although she was internally cursing herself for not being totally honest with her boyfriend.
Fifteen minutes later Lizzie, Sam and Dean clambered into the Impala, and drove off to find somewhere to have something for breakfast. Lizzie, of course, wasn't hungry, however, she didn't want Sam or Dean to be too worried about her. She had the flu in the past, and was still able to go places. This was what part of what made Lizzie who she was. She was a tough girl; stubborn, determined, and hated showing even the tiniest bit of weakness. Unfortunately, these qualities would more often than not, get her into trouble.
This morning, Lizzie didn't bother putting on her headphones, or taking her iPod out of her purse. Dean gazed bewilderedly at Lizzie through the rearview mirror. "No music this morning, huh, Liz?" he asked. Lizzie said nothing and merely shook her head. Dean and Sam exchanged perplexed looks as they backed out of the parking lot and sped across the highway. As they drove, Lizzie rested her head in her hand, staring out the window, not paying attention to the pale cloudless blue sky, and the trees that were full of green leaves – it was a beautiful day, but Lizzie didn't seem to notice. Her nausea and cramps were getting worse and worse, and it didn't help that Dean ran over the curb when they pulled into the parking lot of a diner fifteen minutes later.
"Son-of-a-bitch!" Lizzie swore under her breath as she doubled over, and bit her lip.
She managed to straighten up before either Dean or Sam noticed her distress. Lizzie took Sam's hand as she followed him and Dean into the diner. It was fairly occupied, considering it was only nine o' clock
A tall pretty girl with brunette hair cropped short into a pixie cut showed them to their table as they sat down. Lizzie sighed as she sat down. She wasn't in the mood to eat or drink anything. Her cramps were becoming worse by the minute, and yet, she didn't want to let it be apparent to either Sam or Dean that she was in pain.
Their waitress, a tall slender woman with blond hair and green eyes, came over to their table and ordered their food. But when she asked Lizzie what she wanted, Lizzie muttered "Oh, nothing for me thanks,''
"Are you sure?" the waitress asked. Lizzie nodded. "Let me know if you change your mind,'' said their waitress as she left.
By now, Sam and Dean were gazing worriedly at Lizzie. "What?" asked Lizzie when she noticed both Sam and Dean staring at her. "You're not gonna eat?" asked Dean. Lizzie shook her head, and said nothing.
"What's wrong Lizzie?" asked Sam gently, wrapping his arm around Lizzie's shoulder. Lizzie meant to say "Nothing,'' but her words were cut short as another stab of pain shot across her abdomen – a little more painful than when she first felt it when she woke up that morning. It was enough to make her gasp, and clutch at her stomach with both hands," "What?" asked Sam and Dean together.
"Stomach,'' Lizzie moaned, bowing her head against the pain, as Sam rubbed small circles into her back. "Do you wanna go back to the motel?" asked he asked. "No, no!" said Lizzie, looking up. "I'm fine!" "You sure?" asked Dean, not looking thoroughly convinced.
Lizzie looked up and forced a smile at Dean. "Yeah, I'm sure,'' she said.
Sam opened his mouth to argue, but he was interrupted by the arrival of his and Dean's food. The sight and smell of the food made Lizzie's insides squirm unpleasantly and she felt bile rise in her mouth. "Bathroom,'' said Lizzie as she quickly got up from the table and did her best not to run towards the ladies room. But halfway there, she succumbed, and broke into a run. She barely made it as she ran into the biggest stall, fell to her knees, and held her hair in her hand as she threw up. She continued to dry heave even after her stomach was completely empty. She then sat back against the cool tile wall, and took a few steady, deep breaths. She winced as the deep breathing was brought on by another intense wave of pain across her abdomen. She moaned, as she clutched at her stomach with both hands, and pulled her knees up towards her chest and bowed her head against the pain. Okay, she thought. Maybe this isn't food poisoning after all.
Then what could it be? The flu? No, Sam and Dean weren't sick and she hadn't noticed any one in the vicinity exhibiting any flu-like symptoms. As far as she could tell, she was the only one who was sick.
Lizzie continued to sit on the floor of the bathroom, bewildered. If it isn't the flu, or food poisoning then what the hell is going on with me? She thought as another stab of pain shot across her stomach again. She didn't bother to bite back the groan of pain that escaped her as she bowed her head again, and a few tears escaped her, as she sniffled and wiped them away. No! she firmly told herself. Don't cry! You're too old to cry! Take it like a woman! You'll be fine!
The thing about Lizzie was, she would almost never admit it when she was sick or in pain. She would either lie, or downplay the situation. She would only tell Sam or Dean if the circumstances were either serious or life-threatening. And in this case it didn't look like either or.
I'll be fine! She thought, putting on a brave smile. Nothing I can't handle! Sam and Dean don't need to know! They'd just worry!
And with that, Lizzie stood up, flushed the toilet, and used a wad of toilet paper to mop her sweaty brow before washing her hands and exiting the bathroom.
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She noticed that Sam and Dean were huddled together, talking in an undertone, but they straightened up immediately when they noticed her approaching.
"Hey,'' she said as she sat down. "Hey,'' said Sam and Dean in unison; both of them had anxious, nervous expressions on their faces.
"You okay?" asked Sam. Lizzie wanted more than anything to say 'no', that she wasn't feeling better. Her nausea and cramps hadn't subsided. If anything, they were worse!
"Yeah,'' said Lizzie, finally. "I'm good.''
She didn't talk for the next forty minutes, and finally snapped out of her trance-like state when Sam poked her in the arm, asking her if she was ready to go back to the motel.
"Yeah,'' said Lizzie, grabbing her purse and walking out of the diner with her hand holding Sam's.
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Again, when Lizzie got into the Impala, she didn't take out her iPod or her headphones. She simply stared out of the window, and held her face in her hands. She felt tired, and wanted to take a nap, but she didn't want to cause Sam or Dean to worry too much. She was always energetic even in those rare occasions when she would come down with the flu or a simple cold, she would still carry on with her day like nothing was wrong. Most people would take it easy and get plenty of rest, but this just wasn't Lizzie. It wasn't how she rolled.
A lot of times she would self medicate by indulging in one of her favorite pastimes: Playing the violin. She had been playing this instrument since she was seven and had become quite skilled at it.
Sam and Dean knew of Lizzie's talent and were incredibly impressed by it. They also knew that this was how she would lift her spirits if she was emotionally down, or just not feeling herself, physically.
As soon as they walked into their motel room, Lizzie plopped down on a moth eaten armchair and sighed heavily. Sam had taken out his laptop and began doing research on the boggart they were hunting. Dean had his nose buried in a book.
A minute later, Dean looked up. "Hey, Liz?" Lizzie said nothing. "You know that violin solo you were writing?" Lizzie shrugged. "Can I hear it? You promised you would play it once you were done!"
Sam gazed at Dean out of the corner of his eye, as Dean nodded to Sam encouragingly. "Yeah!" Sam piped up. "How 'bout it, Liz?"
Lizzie sighed again, and didn't look up. "I'm not in the mood,'' she sighed, as she began to pick at her cuticles.
Both Sam and Dean frowned and exchanged baffled expressions. Lizzie, not interested in playing the violin? This just wasn't like her! She never ever turned down an opportunity to run her bow across the strings of her violin and hear the beautiful sounds that it made.
"Come on, Lizzie!" Dean begged. "You are so good! I mean, most people would just kill to have your talent!" Lizzie looked up at Dean and smiled slightly. "Thanks Dean. I appreciate the compliment, but I just don't feel like it right now." And with that, she resumed, picking at her cuticles.
Sam stared slightly opened mouthed at his girlfriend, confused and shocked. Dean and Sam exchanged perplexed looks. Lizzie, not in the mood to play the violin? That just didn't make sense. In fact it was downright unnatural!
How could Lizzie's behavior decline so suddenly? She rarely got sick, and when she did, she always managed to keep her spirits up. Dean nudged Sam in the direction of the bathroom, signaling that he wanted to talk to him in private.
Sam nodded as he followed Dean into the bathroom, and closed the door. "That was weird,'' said Dean. "You're telling me!" said Sam. "What the Hell is happening to her? I mean, she never refuses to play the violin! It's her main passion aside from hunting!"
"I know,'' said Sam nodding sadly. "There's obviously something wrong with her if she's abruptly lost interest in one of her favorite activities!" "Obviously,'' said Dean. "But what?" asked Sam. Dean shrugged. "You're guess is as good as mine, Sammy,'' he said. "It's not just her losing interest in the violin,'' said Sam. "I mean, She's losing her appetite, she's throwing up frequently, and apparently her stomach is bothering her – I noticed when you ran over the curb when we pulled into the diner this morning, she was doubled over, and clutching her stomach!"
"What? I didn't hear her say anything!" said Dean looking startled at this new information. "She didn't want us to know,'' said Sam. Dean let out an exasperated groan. "Why is she doing this? Doesn't she know that she can come to us for anything? That's what we're here for!"
"Even if we tried talking, you know she would just lie to us and tell us she's fine,'' said Sam. "Let just let it go for now, Dean. Maybe she'll get better.''
"And if she doesn't?" asked Dean, looking worried again. "We'll – cross that bridge when we come to it,'' said Sam as he and Dean exited the bathroom.
Lizzie then said that she wanted to take a nap, and so Sam laid down the blankets and pillows the he used to make up her nest the night before.
Without changing her clothes, Lizzie removed her shoes, and clambered into her nest. She fell asleep almost immediately.