~JOEY~
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
-The Hours After-
Chapter 15
I feel like I'm spinning and then as a result, falling. It's like I've been whirling in a tight circle for a while, and then tried to walk a straight line. I feel my body jump from the imagined 'fall', and that's when I realize where I am. All I can think about is the coldness that's surrounding me. I remove my hand from the resting spot on my chest and try to wipe the sleep and spinning sensation from my eyes. My fingers feel like ice, and I wrap my hands around each other and slowly rub them together.
I open my eyes to see nothing... I blink a couple of times to regain my vision, but my very dark apartment does not appear to be coming into focus. My chest tightens a little, but I can't tell if it's because of the pneumonia, the cold, or the haunting darkness that surrounds me. At this point, I don't really care to find out. My head is pounding too hard to think very much and I can feel my body shuddering with every uneven breath I exhale.
For once, the dark isn't my biggest concern; I'm most worried about the fact that I feel like I've been dunked into the Hudson River in January, and then left out to air dry.
I need to take a shower. If I can maneuver my brittle body into the bathroom, I know I can warm up enough under the scalding water to be semi-comfortable.
I reach blindly to my right and clutch onto the back of the couch and try to pull myself forward. I manage to sit upright, but am overwhelmed by how badly my head reacts to the movement. I hear myself moan as shooting pains inhabit my skull.
I instinctively move my hands to my forehead and lean forward. The iciness of my numb hands seem to neutralize the burning throb enough that after a few minutes, I think I am able to continue my journey to a light switch and then the bathroom.
Swinging my legs over the side of the couch, I hear a clunk as my ankle connects with the corner of the coffee table. I can't help but laugh at myself - as if I wasn't in enough discomfort...
I push myself up and by memory, make my way over to the light switch on the opposite wall. Miraculously, I arrive at the wall without further injuring myself. I run my hand along the doorframe until I feel the plastic protrusion of the switch. Anticipating the blinding light, I tilt my head forward and close my eyes before flicking the switch upwards.
Even with my eyes closed, the light stings, adding to the constant accumulation of pain in my head.
I lean against the wall for a minute before I feel brave enough to open my eyes. After several tries, I am able to adjust to the brightness and push off the wall, heading straight down the hall to the bathroom.
I can hear my feet shuffling underneath me, but I keep my eyes focused straight ahead at the shower. I don't even bother closing the door as I begin to slowly peel off layers. I take my jacket off without incident, but in the mirror, I can visibly see my hands and chest shaking from the cold. I decide to start running the water, allowing it time to get hot so that I don't have to stand and wait without the warmth of my clothes.
As the water runs, I sit on the edge of the tub to pull off my jeans - too tired to attempt the balancing act that usually ends with me nearly falling flat on my face. I can feel the steam rising from the water as it brushes across my clammy skin. I shudder one last time before I pull off my second sock and turn to submerge my shivering body into the water.
I don't bother using soap. In fact, I spend the whole time leaning against the tile wall of the shower, allowing the water to cascade from the top of my head down over the rest of my body. The warmth reduces my shivering enough that I actually feel slightly better and less dizzy than when I woke up. I open my eyes to see that my body has turned bright red, no doubt slightly burned from the high temperature of the water. I lean over turn the steel knob to the right, stopping the flow of the soothing liquid. Almost immediately, I regret it, as the cold begins to seep back through my skin, inching its way towards my bones at a rapid pace.
I grab the oversized towel off the rack and as quickly as possible, and try to dry off the remaining water, which has quickly turned frigid.
Once I am sure the towel has soaked up every last drop of fluid, I wrap it around my waist and stare at the clothes that lie in a heap on the ground. I hadn't noticed the blood stains on my jeans until now. My gaze remains fixed for several more seconds until a coughing fit shakes the bloody flashbacks from my mind.
Before I am even able to suppress the painful coughs, I step over the pile and leave the bathroom, not wanting to be anywhere near such a vivid reminder of that horrible night.
Slumping on my bed, I again am overwhelmed by exhaustion. I can't keep my eyes fully opened due to the migraine -yeah, now it's definitely a migraine- that has developed. I turn my head a little to catch a glimpse of the clock. 3:12 am. Not that it matters, it could be 3:12 pm and I'd still just want to sleep.
My teeth have begun to chatter again. I grab a clean pair of boxers from the basket containing clean laundry from a couple of weeks ago that I didn't get a chance to fold. I slide the boxers into position and toss back my comforter before sliding under the warm covers. I roll over onto my side and curl up slightly, trying to keep as warm as physically possible.
I lie in the quietness of my well-lit apartment and am suddenly aware of how ragged my breathing has become. I can literally hear my lungs struggling to pull and push oxygen in and out of my body. I can't help but feel a twinge of panic. This isn't good...
My thoughts are interrupted by the shrill ringing of the phone, cutting through the silence like a knife. There isn't a chance in hell that I'm going to get out of this bed to answer that freakin' phone. I'll just let the machine get it. I can hear a voice leave a short message, but can't even tell if it's a man or a woman, let alone make out what he/she is saying. Almost immediately after the message is finished, I hear my cell phone ring.
I groan, mentally begging whoever it is that is bugging me with all these phone calls to piss off. The cell rings a good 15 times before they give in and hang up.
I sigh lightly, relieved that the silence has been renewed, but again my attention is drawn to the evident struggle my lungs are enduring. I try to regulate my breathing, but that only results in a painful hacking session that burns my chest and stings my throat. Once the coughing ceases and the raggedness resumes, I settle for taking low, shallow breaths, realizing that there's not much I can do otherwise. Despite the alarming feeling in the pit of my stomach, I can't bother contemplating my state of health any further, but rather, I fall into what I can only assume will be a restless, exhausted sleep.
TBC.