Chapter Twenty-Six

Dear readers, reviewers, and people who have no idea why they are seeing this page: I have been diagnosed with Overexcited Author Syndrome (OAS for short). And beware, you may have it too. OAS shows many symptoms, including: Freaking out over every little review, updating more than three times a week, feeling depressed when you don't get reviews, and dreaming about your story at night. There is NO CURE but writing until you are almost dead with exhaustion and your hands feel horrible. If you tire yourself out, you will have cured yourself. Beware and spread the word!

Maggie might seem a little out of character here. Her choices aren't supposed to make sense.

Okay, after that public service announcement and little note….CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX.

Maggie's point of view:

December 21: The last time I wrote, it was morning. Now it's evening. We just ate dinner.

I'm now sure that I'm losing my mind. Sometimes I'm fine. I can feel everything. I can laugh and actually mean it. Other times, I feel completely separated. I spat my medication out today when they weren't looking. I want my head to hurt. Things are more real when it does. I want to be real.

Henry's been watching me way too closely today. I'm almost used to the 'eyes watching you from behind feeling.' Someone's coming up the stairs. It's probably Henry again. Please, Henry. Stop.

I stuffed the papers into their hiding space. There was a knock on my door. "Come in," I called.

I was wrong. It was Whitney. She sat down next to me on my bed. "Are you doing alright?"

"Yes," I lied. I'm sorry, Whitney. I'm sorry for lying. I'm crazy. I'm going crazy.

"Do you need anything for your head?" she asked. I noticed that I was rubbing my head.

"No, I'm fine," I insisted. I'm not exactly fond of spitting pills out when no one was looking.

Whitney gave me a worried look. "You seem really odd lately." Not her too!

I smiled at her. "Don't worry, I'm okay. I'm just still really tired." That, at least, was the truth.

"Oh, I get it. We were thinking about watching a movie. Do you want to watch it with us?"

"Sure," I agreed. It would be nice not to have to think. I went downstairs. I remembered the commercials starting, and Jasper giving Henry a lecture on how to use the remote, and then promptly woke up in my bed with a horrible headache. Whitney was sitting next to me on my bed.

"You okay? You were making a weird noise," she said, eyeing me with concern again.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Sorry for disturbing you," I apologized, feelings worried. Would she notice?

"Don't worry about it. Your dad left early today. Henry's making breakfast."

"Okay." I attempted to stifle a cry of pain as my head began to hurt even worse. I didn't succeed, and it came out through my nose. "I'm okay," I told Whitney, who was giving me a look.

"No, you're not okay," Whitney said. I tried to sit up, but she pushed me back down. "I'm getting your medication, you stay here." She came back with my medications. "Is it your head?"

I nodded, and she handed me some medication and some of my pain killers, which I pretended to swallow as I held it under my tongue. As she went back downstairs to put my bottle of pills back, I spat my medication and pain killers into a tissue and tossed the tissue into the trashcan. I hate this.

The whole day was a blur in recollection. I couldn't remember most of what happened. One minute I was eating breakfast, and the next moment we were sitting in the living room, the clock showing several hours had passed. I found more notes that I didn't remember writing.

December 22, I can't remember the movie from last night. Now I'm losing my memory. It's currently 9:00 in the morning. I'm going downstairs to breakfast soon. I'm not taking any of the medication anymore, not even the pain killers. Henry came to check on me. He knows, I think.

December 22: It's now 2:00 in the afternoon. I don't remember anything past breakfast, and that's blurry. I think I ate cereal. If I ask, they'll notice. I still don't remember the movie.

December 21: It's now four in the afternoon. I don't remember writing the last note. I'm starting to feel really sick. I threw up awhile ago. Not very much, and I didn't tell them because I forgot. Did I throw up? I can't remember anymore. Everything is becoming very blurry, but at least I'm feeling things again. I want to feel things. I don't want this. I feel so messed up and I'm scared

Reading through the notes, I felt a level of nausea.Instead of feeling annoyed and revolted like I normally would, I felt only panic. Is something really wrong with me?

4:15 in the afternoon. I'm going to throw up. I'm getting scared that I'm really sick.

4:20 in the afternoon. I threw up. No one noticed. I turned the fan on so they couldn't hear me. Henry is giving me That Look again lately, and I think he's going to find out I'm sick soon.

I sat down on my bed, trying to calm down. I felt warm. Way too warm. I opened up a window just a crack, enjoying the cold air that was coming through. I gathered some snow from my window sill and on a whim rubbed it over my face to try to cool down. My hands felt numb from the cold of the snow. The burning I had been feeling suddenly changed to feeling as though I was freezing.

A suspicion formed in my head. I stood up and walked to the bathroom, picking up the thermometer. I stared at it for a second before sitting down, wondering if I was going to be sick.

"What are you doing?" Henry asked, sounding concerned. He was right behind me.

I turned around, startled and dropping the thermometer. "Henry! You scared me!"

"Maggie. You're sick." He crouched down next to me. He had the papers in his hand.

"What?" I couldn't hear right. I felt sicker than earlier. I began to shiver.

"I found the papers in your room. You left them out." He looked at me seriously. "You're sick."

"I don't know. I think I'm insane." I began to cry, immediately disgusted with myself.

"You're not. I think it's your concussion." He took the thermometer. "Why were you using this?"

I didn't answer, choosing instead to put my head on my knees. "Mags, are you alright? This is a thermometer isn't it? What do you do with thermometers again? Jasper," he shouted louder, making my head throb suddenly. "What do you do with thermometers?"

Jasper came running upstairs, Whitney following. "What?" I assume he saw me, because he began to panic. "Mags, what's going on?" He touched my forehead carefully. "Henry, give me that."

"Why?"

"Henry, she's running a fever. Give it to me!" he demanded. "Maggie," he pushed my head up out of my arms and pushed the thermometer into my mouth. "Henry, what on earth is going on?"

"I found some notes she's been writing to herself. She's been feeling weird since yesterday at breakfast, like she had no emotions. I knew something was weird, I just couldn't tell what was wrong. She kept saying she was fine. Apparently, she stopped taking her medication so that she could feel things and now she's losing her memory. I came in here and she was sitting down. She's also been throwing up." I put my head back into my arms. Their voices were making my head hurt worse.

"But I gave her medication this morning," Whitney said. My stomach twisted with guilt.

"She waited until you were gone," Henry started, a worried sound starting in his voice.

"And spat them out," Whitney finished, understanding. "Maggie," she groaned. "Why?"

"She said she had been nothing but a bother," Henry finished, summing up my last two days.

The thermometer beeped and Jasper took it out of my mouth. "Okay, yeah, she has a fever."

"Oh, no, I thought so. How high," Henry asked as though he didn't want the answer.

"A hundred and two degrees," Jasper said. Even I was surprised. I'm really that sick? Oh…that explains everything. "Henry, didn't her doctor give you his number? Call him, please."

Henry ran downstairs. Jasper picked me up and held me so that I was leaning against him. "Maggie, you idiot," he said, sounding like he was going to cry. "What on EARTH were you thinking?"

"Sorry, Jasper," I mumbled, hoping he understood. "I thought I was crazy. I'm sorry."

"Shh…you thought you were a bother?" he demanded, suddenly remembering something.

"I was making everyone worried. Ow, ow," My head seemed to be splitting open.

"Maggie…you're not too much of a bother. Never, ever do something like this to yourself again. Maggie…I…" Henry came barreling back up the stairs, the phone clutched to his face. Jasper stopped.

"What exactly do I need to tell them?" he asked.

Jasper took the phone. "Yes, this is Jasper. Yeah, she's sick. She seemed to not…be feeling emotions, and she stopped taking her medication because she felt like she could feel things easier that way. Now she's running a high fever and…wait, I'll ask. Are you hearing and seeing things correctly?"

I looked at him. "What?"

"Okay, she can't understand what I'm saying. What? Yeah, I'll put you on." He hit the speakerphone button. "Yes, you're on speakerphone now."

"Maggie?"

I didn't say anything. Couldn't they be quiet? It hurt. My whole head hurt. I put my hands to the side of my head and began to shake. Jasper pulled me tighter against him and I went to sleep.

"Mags! Mags! Mags wake up! Please!" Jasper said, shaking me. "You're dad is home. He brought your new medication home." He shook me harder, and my eyes flew open. When did we get to my room?

"Stop, you'll make me throw up," I said.

"Sorry. We figured out why you're sick. You weren't taking the medication that was supposed to keep up your immune system. Here, we got you some new medication." He made me take the medication, and I swallowed. "Apparently it'll make you act really weird, though."

My head was spinning already. "I feel like those 'drunken' goggles," I complained. "Remind me to never drink."

"Gotcha."

"I'm sorry for being stupid about my medication."

"Don't do it again. You scared me."

"What time is it?"

"Nearly ten."

"I slept too long."

"It's okay."

"I'm tired again."

"Sleep then."

"Don't go."

I realised I was lying next to him. I could feel him smile. "I won't. Night Mags."