She is so thirsty. Her throat hurts and she almost chokes when she swallows. She doesn't want to leave the warmth of her bed, but Izzie takes a shaky breath and climbs out of it, shoving the down comforter out of the way. Her legs ache and her arms are limp at her sides. Her bare feet are cold even though there is a carpet on the floor.
The kitchen is only just down the hall, and she thinks she has the strength for that. Maybe. She feels as if she has the flu – her body hurts and she is dizzy and cold. The room swirls around in front of her. Purple dots cloud her vision, and she leans against the nightstand for a moment. She should just go back to bed. Maybe someone will bring her a glass of water. No. She can handle just a quick walk a few rooms away.
It's just down the hall. Then she can sit down at the table until she feels better. She opens her door and squints as bright light in the hall greets her. Her hands are on the wall, heavily pushing on hard plaster. A few more steps, and she is in the kitchen.
A wave of nausea passes over her, and the purple dots seem to multiply in her eyes. All she has to do is cross the room to the fridge, but the room suddenly seems a mile long. She trips on something she cannot see, and falls hard on the tiles, her legs crumpled painfully underneath her.
Izzie can't get up. "George? Mer?" She calls out. She hears only the hum of the heater. "Callie?" she asks doubtfully, but no one answers. Suddenly she is filled with emotion for the first time in eons – rage. Where is everyone? Why would they just leave her here? Is this what Denny felt like – breathless, weak and alone? For years, is this how he functioned day after day? No, it must have been forty times worse. But she can't imagine anything forty times worse than what she feels now.
Her friends have abandoned her in this huge house. Maybe they're working. Working in that hospital where people die every day. She used to like working. Now she knows she can't ever set foot in there again, not in that building with death in every sterile white room.
So she lies on the floor, eyes closed and muscles burning, waiting for a change.
