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She rocked me back and forth, whispering words of comfort to me until I relaxed. Once I had stopped crying, she forced some warm broth down my throat.
"Here, Erik. You need this to get your strength back up." With great difficulty, I swallowed the liquid. "Very good." Looking into my fever-glazed eyes, she whispered, "Do you know who I am, darling?"
"Y-You said your…name is C-Christine."
She did not answer, though she seemed displeased with my response.
Tenderly, Christine laid me on the bed and told me to rest. I tried, but my head was throbbing so painfully that not even her beautiful voice could calm me.
Soon I began to feel dreadfully ill; it felt as if an angry snake was writhing about in my stomach. When I was sure I could no longer keep the snake at bay, I called to the angel. "Mademoiselle? Christine?"
"Yes, dear?"
"I- I am about…to be ill, I think."
"Alright, Erik. Here, let me help you sit up." She lifted me partially up, propping my limp form against her shoulder.
The snake within me bit at my insides and rushed up into my mouth. Reaching around me, the angel held a towel under my chin. I belched loudly, sick liquid and undigested broth coming up with it. Between convulsions of retching, I could hear that beautiful voice singing to me. She sang until I had completely exhausted myself.
When I had regained my composure, the angel stood and disposed of the vomit-sodden towel. She returned, settled me back against my pillows, and wiped my face free of sick.
She then pressed her hand against my forehead. "Oh, Erik, you're still burning up! Try to sleep, my angel."
I closed my eyes, listened to her angelic voice, felt her warm, soft hand on my face, and soon fell into a restless sleep.
Yes, friends, short and not too sweet, but don't worry, the next chapter's better.