Chapter 8 - Illness
When the darkness retreated, Credence found himself lying on the ground at Skender's feet. The music had stopped, its cheerful tune replaced by curses and shouting as the ringmaster raised his fist, threatening to bring the whip down across Credence's exposed face and hands.
The Obscurial whimpered and curled in on himself, hot tears pricking the corners of his eyes. Any minute now he would feel the whip across his flesh, slicing him open and allowing rivulets of blood to soak into the fabric of his clothes. It wouldn't be the first time someone had punished him for his mistakes, but it would be the first time he was beaten for his inability to perform magic.
And then she came, no longer in her serpentine form and running across the tent. Her fear dissolved when she confronted the ringmaster, placing herself between him and the Obscurial.
"Leave him alone! Can't you see that he's not feeling well?" She glanced at him over her shoulder, seeing Credence moaning and twitching on the ground. "He needs to rest, otherwise he won't be able to perform tonight."
"You disgusting little worm!" Skender shouted, eliciting a sharp cry as he curled his whip around her thigh. "This is my show, and if you're not going to behave I'll throw you in a cage with the rest of the animals!"
His words had little effect on her. Her eyes, glaring and defiant, never left his face, until finally he lowered his whip and took a step back.
"He has until six this evening," said Skender, a vile sneer twisting his lips. "And make sure he gets here on time." He then watched as she knelt beside the Obscurial.
Credence initially drew back, as if in alarm, then allowed himself to be hugged. After a moment he even put his head on her shoulder and hugged back, still frightened and trembling. "I-I'm s-sorry," he stammered. "D-didn't mean to..."
"Shh, it's alright now," she said, keeping her tone gentle so as not to upset him. When he opened his eyes, she saw that they had turned milky white like the snows of winter. "Come on. We need to get you out of here."
Credence leaned into her touch and allowed her to help him to his feet. He'd slept poorly for the last several weeks, and what sleep he'd managed was haunted by nightmares of his adoptive mother. Now everything had come down on him like a lead weight, his condition worsened to the point where he could barely stand as she led him away from the exhibition tent.
He returned to their room in the adjacent tent and collapsed into bed, muttering incoherently as a damp washcloth was draped across his forehead. His eyes closed, and although it felt like a moment or two before he opened them again, it must have been hours because the light was fading from the sky.
"Credence," a voice said, speaking softly to her ailing friend. His eyes rolled towards the sound of her voice, relief spreading across her face when he looked at her. "How are you feeling?"
"Tired," he murmured. He could smell a warm, salty aroma coming from somewhere on his left, and realized at once that she must have made him something to eat. "I thought I was getting better... Haven't had a blackout in over a week."
"It's not your fault," she said, lifting a spoon and bringing it to his lips. "You're exhausted. He should have known better than to push you when you aren't feeling well."
He allowed her to spoonfeed him some plain broth, though he really didn't want any. These days he had little to no appetite, but he knew she would worry about him if he didn't at least try to eat something.
"I'm always exhausted. I could probably sleep for a month and it wouldn't make a difference." A pause, his friend stopping to refresh the cloth on his forehead. "There's no cure for what I am, is there?"
"Not that I know of," she replied.
He gazed up at her through blurry eyes, still glazed like he was fighting a case of the flu, and mumbled, "And you?"
She shook her head. "No. There is nothing I can do. One day I'll transform and be unable to change back. Until then I'm going to live my life to the fullest. Even if this," she motioned towards the striped canvas and dusty floor, "is all life has to offer. But no matter what happens, I will always be here for you, Credence."
