FIVE

Dwight Hall, Yale
New Haven, Connecticut
Sunday, November 5, 2006
3:31 AM

Amy awoke in the middle of the night in searing pain, feeling as if her body was being pricked with thousands of finely-sharpened needles, each point embedded in every pore of her skin and causing every movement to hurt. The sheets around her felt like sandpaper and the cold air wafting in through the windows felt like ice being dumped on her flesh, every fiber of her being shaking with agony whenever she breathed.

Opening her eyes and attempting to lay completely still, Amy could see that everything around her seemed to be colored a smoky shade of gray, the blackness that the shut curtains provided appearing as though it had been lightened. Around her, the bedroom stared back at her as if she were looking at it through a brightness filter. In her modified vision, she could see nearly every detail of the surrounding space in a hazy steel color, everything tinted the same hue and sharpened, the things she normally wouldn't be able to see from across the room, even in daylight, appearing finely focused, as if she were wearing special glasses that made everything appear as different as it was.

In her ears, the ticking of her clock reverberated inside her head like a heavy monotonous drum, causing a pounding headache to go along with the extreme tenderness of her skin. As the thumping continued, everything else seemed louder as well, the floor fan that Taylor had turned on hours ago buzzing like a hundred thousand bees and the refrigerator all the way in the kitchen humming equally as loud as the old appliance did its job. Occasionally, the squeal of metal springs cut through everything like nails on a chalkboard as Taylor turned over in the other room, probably sleeping on the couch judging by how close the sound had been.

At the instant everything hit her, right before she had awoken, Amy had wanted to scream, the pain of her skin becoming unbearable after only seconds of being awake, coupled with her other two senses working overdrive. As she tried to hold it in, the squeal of her own muffled yelping reaching her ears like the crash of steel twisting together, Amy felt tears sting her eyes, the hot heat of them burning her face in fiery streams. Holding in her breath to try to keep from crying out, Amy kept everything trapped inside her throat as something else began to wash over her, the smell of everything contained within the apartment-like suite reaching her nose and causing her to want to vomit as the nearly-sour milk in the fridge, Taylor's coconut shampoo, and the smell of dirty clothes mixed together in a way that churned her stomach.

Sitting up despite the agony it caused, Amy pushed her back against the headboard of the bed and rolled her shoulders up into the carved wood behind her. As she felt everything around her, from the breeze, to her hair tickling her as it fell out of its bun, to the shuffling of her clothes as she tried to straighten her legs into a comfortable position—a fruitless effort considering everything hurt no matter what she did—Amy gnashed her teeth together as bile threatened to rise in her throat, the smell, feel, noise, and unusual brightness of everything coming together to both scare her and sicken her in a way she hadn't thought possible.

Leaning back and trying to ignore the pain, Amy attempted to keep her mind on something else, anything else. Instead, she became fixated on whatever was going on, certain now that this wasn't just the average flu like she had originally thought. Though the hot and cold sweats she had undergone could be perceived as normal, especially since she had seen others who had been ill experiencing the same thing, this… whatever this was, was not normal. It was as though at least four of her five senses had been heightened to an unusual level, all coming together to overpower her as she lay in bed, attempting to keep from leaning over the side and barfing onto the floor.

Part of her wanted to call out for help, while another part of her told her to stay quiet, that this was something no one could fix and something she had to endure alone. As a voice in the back of her head that sounded like her own spoke, Amy listened as it told her to stay still and breathe slowly, that the pain will pass as the fever chills had hours ago. Heeding its advice, Amy attempted to remain in one place, everything hurting so much that she wanted to crawl into a ball and cry.

As long, grueling moments passed, Amy glanced at the clock every now and again, the neon numbers on the digital face nearly blinding her. From what she could tell, it had only been three minutes since she had woken up, every second of it seeming like years as the pins in her pores deepened themselves into her skin. In the living room, Amy could hear Taylor get up from the couch and walk into her bedroom, her bare feet on the wood sounding like a combination of clapping and thumping as she shuffled heavy-footed and half asleep through the archway across the suite. At the click of the door shutting loudly, Amy winced, the noise hurting her ears.

All of a sudden, a sharp sting ripped through Amy's body as she buckled, her back arching against the headboard while her skin felt as though it was on fire, every piece of flesh feeling as if it was melting off the bone. Screaming without wanting to, Amy felt agonized tears roll down her cheeks while flames like whips hit every part of her—her back, head, arms, legs, and chest burning in a way dissimilar to the hot flashes she had experienced before. Within seconds, Taylor was in her room, flicking on the light and causing Amy to cry out again, the brightness becoming blinding in her altered vision.

"Amy, Amy! What's wrong?" Taylor shouted over the sounds of the screaming, causing Amy to clap her hands over her ears from the volume and shut her eyes tightly underneath the light. "Amy, please talk to me! What's wrong!"

"Everything hurts…"

Unable to answer her more than that, Amy did all she could and folded in on herself, her knees coming up close to her face while her elbows rested on her thighs, the brush of skin against skin feeling like sandpaper rubbing together. Letting the tears flow, unable to care that she was sure everything she was doing was embarrassing, Amy's chest heaved from where she was lying on her side, breathing heavily through her mouth to keep the smell of curdled milk, coconut, and old laundry from entering her nose. After a long moment, she couldn't keep herself together, everything exploding in fresh waves as the heat got hotter, the lights got brighter, the sounds got louder, and the smells became more intense. Getting up and rushing for the bathroom, Amy's stomach nearly gave way before she made it, throwing up the toilet seat and vomiting the gallons of water she had drank during the day, using it as a substitute for the food that didn't seem to want to go down.

"I'm going to call a doctor," Taylor said in between Amy's heaving, causing Amy to stop to hold up a hand as a warning to her friend that that wouldn't be a good idea.

"Don't. I don't think this is nor—"

Before she could finish her sentence, more bile came, burning her mouth and throat as the stomach-acid-and-water combination forced itself back up in heavy doses, causing Amy's shoulders to throb as her muscles became sore from the repeated motion. Across the room, the sound of pages flipping while Taylor searched for something in one of the old books she had discarded weeks ago carried through the air to Amy's bionic ears, the crinkling as loud as a chip bag, even in the distance between them.

After what felt like hours, Amy could feel her stomach stop churning, her body easing its way away from pain as the cold floor beneath her no longer felt like a bucket of ice water but instead the usual cool laminate. Leaning against the wall across from the toilet, Amy listened to it flush, closing her eyes as her vision shifted back to normal, her other senses following suit. Finally taking a chance to look around, Amy sat up and squinted into the blackness of the bathroom, seeing Taylor's frame in the doorway with the lamp from the living area casting a shadow on her face. In her expression, something grim was written in her knitted eyebrows, the book in her hands held open as though it contained something she didn't want to read.

"Are you okay?" Taylor asked slowly, turning on the bathroom light.

Blinking at the sudden illumination, Amy shook her head, swallowing back the taste of bile that didn't seem to want to leave her mouth. "Something's wrong with me. I don't know what it is. That… that wasn't normal."

Shaking her head despite the knowing expression on her face, Taylor shrugged, placing the book on the sink and bending down to help Amy to her feet, both of them hobbling back into Amy's room and taking a seat on the bed. Though her head still pounded and shoulders ached, everything else felt ordinary, the rest of her seeming completely fine, as though the last half an hour spent in unprovoked agony hadn't happened, as though it had been part of her imagination.

As the two remained side by side in the thoughtful quiet, Taylor stared out at the dark curtains, the occasional moonlight shining through to show her pensive expression. As her button nose and narrow eyes wrinkled together in a sour appearance, giving her a look of disgust as though she too had been able to smell the rancid combination her friend had had to ignore minutes ago, Taylor kept her gaze forward, not looking at Amy no matter how many times the other girl's eyes fell on her.

If she had to guess, Amy would bet any amount of money that Taylor had found something in that book she was looking through, the haunted glint in her stare visible the second Amy had seen her friend in the doorway. Wondering what it could be, Amy wanted to get up and see, curious as to whether or not Taylor would try to stop her from doing so. But as she moved to stand, Amy nearly collapsed on the floor as all of her strength ebbed away from her, the vomiting seeming to take every ounce of energy she had and washing it down the drain. Instead, she pretended to sit further back on the bed, her hands shaking violently as she used them to move herself backwards.

"Taylor," Amy began, her voice shaking as much as her extremities. "What…"

Ultimately, she didn't know how to continue, something in the back of her mind telling her to keep her mouth shut, that she didn't what to know what her friend had found and that she should remain blissful for just a little while longer. Wrapping her legs up into her chest while she sat on top of the sheet-less mattress, Amy bowed her head and rested her chin against her knee, staring out at the billowing curtains in the slight breeze just like Taylor was beside her, trying to keep the questions from flowing in an endless wave.

Unfortunately, her mind didn't want to seem to shut down now that it was on overdrive, her senses returned to normal but her brain still on high alert. Next to her, doing the same thing, Taylor appeared to be milling something over in her head, something heavy that had to be dealt with with caution. What was going on? What was wrong with her? What did Taylor know, and why wasn't she sharing? Was it truly that bad?

Sighing deeply as frightened tears threatened to fall, the second set that had overcome her so far tonight, Amy tried to keep her breathing steady as she closed her eyes, water leaking from the cracks and trailing down her cheeks. Not bothering to wipe them away, she remained where she sat, letting the blackness suffocate her as her heart pounded and shivers ran down her spine. For some reason, she knew that whatever Taylor was eventually going to tell her was bad, worse than any horrible news her friend had ever had to break, even trumping the time Taylor had told Amy that Rachel Richardson had died on that night at the end of August. Back then, however, the girl's expression hadn't even been remotely as foreboding as it was now, sadness taking over then whereas fear seemed to be the predominate emotion in the present, fear that both of them shared, though Taylor's appeared strangely deeper.

For a moment, Amy turned her thoughts away from her roommate, instead focusing in on herself. Though she was afraid of Taylor's news, whatever it was, she was also afraid of the truth of it, sensing changes about herself that she couldn't explain. Though she knew her friend was scared, it was almost as though Amy could feel the dread in her gut as well see it on the other girl's face. There was a vibe around Taylor that carried the bleak emotion, the sense not as strong as it should be but still there, feeling like a feather in Amy's stomach, floating around and lightly tickling the lining.

"Amy," Taylor said finally, barely opening her mouth as she spoke, her shoulders hunching forward as though the weight of the conversation was too much for her, "when you were fighting that vampire, or when I killed it, did it get any blood on you?"

Bunching her jaw at the obvious question, especially since both girls had seen how completely drenched Amy had been after Taylor had cut off the creature's head, Amy narrowed her eyes instead of answering, curiosity deep in her expression as her friend turned to face her, her skin pale and translucent as though all the color had been washed out of it by the thought of what came next. Speaking heavily, Taylor pursed her lips together, her eyes filling with tears just like Amy's had a moment before. Opening her mouth to ask what was wrong, Amy bit it back as Taylor whispered the next question, the answer as to what was happening written all over her face.

"Did you get any in your mouth?"