So sorry for the delay, but my internet was disconnected and reconnected and now they say my computer is defective. I've been trying to come and write when I can at my cousin's house. This chapter is a bit lacking on my end. I'm not sure why, but I think it's from being out of my usual workspace. My comfort zone is important. So I apologize if it really sucks or anything like that. I'll try to be less ridiculous in the future.
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The girl in the bed was not Mag's daughter. There was something off that Mag couldn't place, and it all felt wrong. She only woke at odd intervals and then she would groan and writhe for a while before fading into sleep again. The doctors said that it was something she could have caught from anyone; they would all have to wait it out until it had run its course. 'No need to worry' that was what each one of them said. Worrying was the only thing that came to mind though.
Jillian's face was void of color, she was always damp with sweat, and within three days she had already begun to grow thinner. It was unnatural; terrifying. Mag had always been accustomed to seeing such fire and life in her daughter. Even this change made it seem as though she was already dead. Sometimes the thought that Jillian might die would start to gnaw away inside her skull. It ate through her thoughts until Mag went in to check on her again. Throughout the night she would wake up and creep in to make sure that she continued to breathe softly and steadily.
Rotti told her that she would eventually have to go back to work. There was a home studio in her basement and he sent over people with advertisements he wanted recorded. He kept reminding her over her communicator that she was under contract. She would agree quietly and apologize. The fight in her was gone and replaced with anxiety. She didn't know much about religion, but she prayed every night that Jillian would recover.
It was nearly a week before Jillian finally stayed awake long enough to fight her way out of bed. The doctors had all warned her to stay and rest. She got up anyway. Her legs were weak beneath her and she felt disappointed in her inability to walk on her own.
"That sickness took a lot out of you. It may take a few days or weeks for you to feel fully in control again. It's nothing major, just some limitations on what you'll be able to handle for now." In her ears, the words sounded cruel. "You'll be fine." That was debatable. The sound of footsteps drew her attention away towards the door. Her mother entered, looking like she hadn't slept in a few days. Red rimmed her eyes, her hair had been thrown up, and she was in a wrinkled t-shirt paired with torn jeans. The visible tension in her body released when she saw that her daughter was awake and moving. She crossed the room in large, quick steps and Jillian was crushed in her embrace. Sensing a need for a private moment, the doctor left the room. They stayed like that for a long time.
"I was so worried." She didn't pull back or loosen her hold. Jillian stayed silent. "They wouldn't tell me what was wrong. They think it must have been something you caught from someone at the party. I'm so sorry, Jillian. I shouldn't have made you go." Of course they would lie. If Jillian had figured it out, then they were smart enough to know what was really wrong. Still, there was no way she could tell her mother that she had been having withdrawal from being shot up by a rapist.
"It wasn't your fault, mom. I wanted to go. You couldn't have guessed any of it." They finally pulled apart. "Plus, I'm fine now." She smiled slightly to reassure her.
"I know, I know. I was just scared that I might lose you," She sighed. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you were gone." A tear rolled slowly down her face. As a child, Jillian had wondered if her mother could cry after the surgery she'd had on her eyes. This was the first time she'd seen it happen and she felt guilty that it was her fault.
"I'm sorry." Her mother looked surprised.
"Darling, it's not your-"
"I know, but I'm still sorry." They stared at each other, neither one could find the words to express what they were thinking. Mag was still worried that there was more wrong than she knew and Jillian was building a thick wall in her mind to protect against her mother's probing metallic eyes. Things needed to calm down and balance back to the way they usually were. After a few minutes, Mag broke the silence.
"I think we should both sit and relax. We could go and watch TV for a while." Jillian nodded. Sitting with her mother was always better than sitting alone. They went to the living room and sat together on the couch. No words passed between them as they searched for anything they could watch. She sat on one side of the couch and she could feel eyes on her from the opposite end. Knowing that she was being carefully observed was almost upsetting. She didn't want to be treated like she might break even though she felt like she might at any moment.
Her mind was buzzing and for the first time, she felt as though her thoughts were beginning to move beyond her control. She had never been so scared of her own mind. Pretending she was okay could only get her so far. She looked at the screen without registering the people and wondered if her mother could see through the act yet.
Mag glanced over at Jillian again. Her forehead was creased in thought, glaring at the television. She always looked angry when she was concentrating too hard. There was something important on her mind and it was frustrating not to know what she was thinking. She had inherited the double-edged sword of being incredibly stubborn. It would take a great deal of pushing for her to say what she was thinking. For now, Mag would wait and be content that she hadn't lost the last person that she loved.
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Pavi sat across his father's desk and avoided his gaze. There was accusation in the old man's eyes and it made him uncomfortable. Rotti got straight to the point.
"I know what happened at the dinner." His tone was one of irritation. "You gave that girl enough Zydrate to get her addicted in one go. I lost an entire week's worth of work from Mag because of her withdrawal. Thanks to your ridiculous obsession, you've destroyed part of her life and my business will suffer for it. That girl is the only thing keeping her mother under my control." Pavi looked down and shrugged.
"She was worth it." He muttered under his breath. Rotti sprang up from his chair.
"You will stay away from her! Do you hear me? She is now off limits. I swear if you so much as look at her again I'll- I'll" He broke into a coughing fit and sank back into his chair. When he had finally calmed down, he pointed at the door. "Get that face out of my sight!" Pavi stood and left.
Now that his father's investment was in jeopardy, he knew he would be followed to make sure he left the girl alone. He would have to wait for the heat to die down, but he couldn't stay away from her forever. When he closed his eyes, he could see her lying on the carpet of the study. Her face was beautiful and so eerily peaceful. If he didn't have other plans for her, he would have thought to take her face for his own. She was so pure and eager to see the world; he had been able to taste it on her skin. Her innocence was more addictive than any drug he knew and he was certain beyond any doubt that he would be back for more.
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Eh? Good? Weird? Bad?
All of the above? Review (Politely) with any questions, comment, or concerns and thank you. -XTAPX
