And the next update. I hope you're still vaguely enjoying this and thanks for the reviews. I'll be back on Tuesday :)
11th November: Huntington Road, York
His head was pounding; his skull was throbbing at so many places he was feeling nauseous all over. The air in his flat was cold and still he was sitting on his bed, his shirt wide open. He ran a hand over his chest, rubbing it absent-mindedly. The weather had started taking its toll on him. Often when he went to work in the mornings or left work in the middle of the night, the cold had seeped through his clothes and with no warm flat to return to, it had permanently stayed there.
But his job also came with advantages. Money, if also it hadn't come in floods, had finally been present again and some of it passed on to his landlord hat at least resulted in a warm shower. Now if only the heating in his flat could come back on too...He shivered softly and wiped some sweat from his chest. He most certainly wasn't well...He coughed deeply, grimacing in pain as both his chest and his head hurt. The dilemma now was that he was nowhere well enough to work, yet he knew that Clara Smith did not approve of sick days. So in fear of losing his position and essentially slipping back into the darkness of resignation, he had no choice. So he buttoned up his shirt again and pushed himself out of bed. The air was cold and wet and he was instantly surrounded by a thin film of mist when he left the flat. He coughed again and rubbed his chest while walking. This was going to be a long day...
A few years ago, a time that now seemed an eternity; he had been feeling just as bad. He had been rollerblading through Central Park when he had suddenly felt his chest constrict painfully. Gasping a little in pain he had bladed to the next tree and steadied himself there while trying to catch his breath. Slowly the pain subsided but the worry remained with him. Feebly he tried to persuade himself that he was simply short of breath because of his age, that it was perfectly normal to feel as worn out as he had done for the past few days. And after all, Mr Sheffield, Miss Fine and her friend Val and especially C.C. had been teasing him about his recent weight gain, so maybe his exhaustion came from the effort to fight obesity. With that thought in mind he had pushed himself away from the tree and rollerbladed home. And for a short duration of time he had felt better, but not for long...
Two days later during a sparring match with C.C. his chest had suddenly constricted painfully again and he had experienced a strange tingling in his wrists. C.C., seeing that he was lacking a zinger, had set him up again. He still remembered trying to laugh, but his face felt cold and numb, turning even the tiniest smile into a horrible grimace. He had only mouthed her name before the forces of gravity had harshly pulled him to the floor.
"Niles? Talk to me, please." she had whispered and he had desperately tried to open his eyes.
Why was he in her arms?
"C..." he had tried again, but eventually her light-blue eyes filled with worry had disappeared and darkness had enveloped him once more.
Two heart-attacks later Niles hoped that it was merely a cold he was now dealing with, because he instinctively knew he wouldn't survive a third, not when there was nothing left fighting for anymore...