It looks like I'll be taking this in a different direction than the original. Enjoy.
May 7, 1874
That morning, Johanna awoke to the sound of someone vomiting profusely.
When she sat up to see who it was, she noticed Anthony standing hunched over with his head out the window and a blanket wrapped around him. Kelso was standing next to him, holding his hair back.
"Oh God… Oh God..."
"You're okay, Hope. You're okay."
Johanna got out of bed and cautiously made her way over to the two.
"Anthony? Are you all right?" She asked.
"Yes, I'm-" Anthony was cut off by another heave. Kelso looked at her with an expression of concern on his face.
"This has been happening every morning."
"For how long?" Johanna's brows furrowed in concern.
"I don't know. At least a couple weeks, I wager. He's only been staying here with me for that long."
"What do you think is wrong with him?"
"I'd say he's hungover, but he hasn't been drinking recently. Usually when he drinks, he stays sober enough to prevent a hangover in the morning anyway."
"I'm fine!" Anthony coughed and glared back at his friend. "It's just a bug, that's all."
"A bug doesn't last for two weeks."
"Shut the fuck up, Kelso."
"Hey. Watch your mouth, asshole."
"Both of you, watch your language." Johanna scolded. "Anthony, whatever the problem is, it's clear that it's not going to go away on its own. Perhaps you should see a physician."
"No."
"Please?"
"No!" Anthony pulled his head out of the window and sat down on the floor. "I'm fine, it's nothing. I don't need a doctor."
"Hope, I've never seen you this sick." Kelso knelt down next to his friend and began to rub his back. "I'm a little worried about you, mate."
"Well, don't be. I'm fine." Anthony let his blanket fall down and expose his right shoulder. "Leave it alone."
Kelso scoffed and rolled his eyes, but dropped the matter anyway. He knew it was pointless to argue with Anthony once his mind was set. Unfortunately, it didn't appear that Johanna had learned that just yet.
"Look at me." She knelt down in front of him and pulled his blanket back up to cover his shoulder. He didn't make eye contact. "You've been throwing up every morning for the last two weeks, at least."
"So?"
"So, that's not normal." Johanna placed a hand under his chin and tilted his head so that he was looking her in the eye. "And don't think I haven't noticed any of your other problems. You barely eat, and I know you've been having headaches. I know about the nosebleeds, too."
"I've had them before." Anthony squirmed out of her grasp.
"I'm sure you have. Tell me, how long have your symptoms been occurring?"
"I don't know."
"Anthony, how long have you actually been having symptoms?" Johanna's voice was hard and commanding. She reminded him of his mother.
"I don't know. Maybe a little less than a month? It's hard to say."
"…A month."
"Yes."
"…You're telling me that you've been having these problems for a month, and you haven't done anything about them?"
"What would I do? I don't exactly have access to anything I could use to help the pain, apart from alcohol. Even if I did, they wouldn't be of much use to me anyway."
"Why?"
"He won't take medicine." Kelso interjected from across the room. "He's a stubborn little git, this one. Prefers to wait it out until it goes away."
"It's always worked in the past."
"Except that time you caught the influenza. You almost died."
"Key word here being 'almost'." Anthony turned to face his friend. "Anyway, it's going to take a lot more than an illness to take me down. I'm healthy as a horse."
"You sure about that?" Johanna raised an eyebrow. "All the evidence points to the contrary."
"Look." Kelso walked toward them. "Johanna, his mind is clearly made up. We're not going to be able to persuade him otherwise. It's like talking to a brick wall."
"Fuck you, Kelso." Anthony glared at him.
"Fuck you too. You know I'm right." Kelso helped him up and patted his shoulder. "Still, take it easy, all right? You're worryin' us."
"Fine." Anthony rolled his eyes. "If it makes you feel better, I will."
"Thanks."
At the end of the day, as he was getting ready for bed, Anthony began to question himself as to whether or not he was truly fine.
After his argument with Johanna and Kelso, he'd gotten dressed, climbed out the window, and gone for a walk for some fresh air. He hadn't even made it two blocks before the pains started. They'd started out as slight cramping in his lower belly, which he proceeded to ignore until several hours later, when the pain began to intensify.
Now he was curled up on the couch in their room with his arms wrapped tightly around his midsection. He'd thought that wrapping himself in a blanket would help, at least a little, but it wasn't doing anything for him. If anything, the cramps were getting worse.
Anthony groaned and curled even tighter around himself. The pain was beginning to make him nauseous for the third time in less than an hour. He'd already gotten up twice to be sick, and he really didn't want to do it again. He'd already disturbed Johanna enough, and the poor girl really needed her sleep.
Come on… Just stop already...
He let out a quiet whimper as another wave of pain shot through him and his eyes welled with tears. He wanted to cry. What had he done to deserve this awful pain?
Finally, after another hour of agonizing privately, Anthony passed out from the pain. He didn't wake up for the rest of the night.
May 8, 1874
When Anthony awoke that morning, he was very cold and groggy. He didn't feel like he'd slept a wink the previous night, but the pain was gone, or at least dulled to a manageable level.
Ugh… What's that smell?
He wrinkled his nose at a coppery smell that seemed to fill the room. At the same time, he noticed that his legs were sticking together. He figured that he must have been sweating quite a bit in his sleep.
Ah, whatever. Clean yourself up and you'll be fine.
Anthony got up off the couch without even bothering to shed his blanket and walked over to the table across the room. A pitcher full of water and a basin were sitting there, and there was a stack of folded rags in one of the drawers. He was about to grab a rag when he began to notice that the coppery smell wasn't as strong as it was by the couch.
Strange… Eh, probably nothing.
He went on with washing his face and neck and shivered. He really didn't want to remove his blanket, but if he wanted to finish his morning routine, he probably didn't have much of a choice.
Eh, whatever. I can wrap up again once I'm done.
Anthony braced himself and let his blanket fall to the floor so he could clean the stickiness off his legs. He was expecting to see sweat residue, but what he ended up seeing was much more disturbing.
His legs were covered in dried blood, especially the left leg. The stains reached almost to his feet, and the mess was especially thick on his inner thighs. His nightshirt was sticking to his legs, and even his blanket was stained.
"Oh God…" Anthony held a hand to his mouth in shock and let out a horrified sob. "Oh my God…"
Is that why I was having those pains yesterday?
He continued to stare down at his legs in horror. How had he managed to hurt himself in such an odd area? He didn't recall doing anything more strenuous than a brisk walk, except maybe trying to climb in and out the window.
His stomach churned, and he barely had time to pull his blanket back up before he had to open the window and stick his head out. He was promptly sick. Before too long, he noticed that someone was gently pulling his hair away from his face and rubbing his back.
"It's all right, Anthony. You're all right."
After another ten minutes of dry heaving, he pulled his head back in and collapsed to the floor. He took extra care to keep his blanket covering his legs, and he wouldn't look Johanna in the eye.
"How are you feeling today?" She asked.
"I'm not sure." Anthony cringed at how shaky his voice was. "I'm fine, I suppose, but…"
"You don't sound fine." Johanna frowned and held a hand to his forehead. "You're a little warm, but it doesn't quite feel like a fever."
"I don't feel feverish." He felt his lips quiver and he clenched his jaw to stop it.
No! You will not cry in front of Johanna!
His eyes welled up with tears and he sniffled.
"Does anything hurt?" Johanna asked. He shook his head and wiped his eyes.
"I'm not in any pain, I'm just…" His voice cracked. His eyes flooded with tears again and before he could stop himself, he wrenched out a sob. "I'm fine, I promise, it's just…"
"Just one of those mornings?"
"Something like that." Anthony nodded, stood up, and walked back over to the other side of the room with tears pouring down his cheeks.
"Oh my God."
Johanna's voice was suddenly full of worry, and he felt his blood run cold.
"Is that blood?"
He turned around to face her. She was walking toward him, and she looked very concerned.
"Anthony… What happened to you?" She was looking down, and Anthony realized with faint horror that she could see the bloodstains on his legs.
Well, Hope, the cat's out of the bag. Might as well tell her what happened.
"I woke up like this." He lowered his eyes and clutched his blanket tightly around his shoulders. "It must have happened sometime in the middle of the night… I had these awful pains, and when I woke up, this was…" He gestured toward his legs and turned away from her. He had started to cry, but at this point, he couldn't stop it from happening.
"I'll get you something to clean yourself with." Johanna seemed to be at a loss for words.
"Thanks…"
It took about 40 minutes and several rags, but Anthony was able to clean almost all of the blood off his legs. Thankfully, it appeared that whatever injury he'd suffered had stopped bleeding long before he woke up that morning, and it presented no problems. In fact, he couldn't feel any pain. It allowed him enough time to stop crying and calm himself down.
By the time Kelso walked in, Anthony was calm and dressed like nothing had happened. He'd made Johanna promise that she wouldn't say anything about that morning's incident, and they'd disposed of the bloodied linens. The three of them carried on as normal and went about their business, and the rest of the week went by more or less without incident.
