Chapter 23

I'll see you soon

Manuca woke me up and then told me I had to eat dinner. Can we please do one unpleasant thing at a time? Two is two too many, I thought to myself. I was terrified to eat again. I didn’t want to throw up. I didn’t want my stomach to be laced with pain. I didn’t want my throat to be burned by my stomach acids. I wanted it all to stop. I wanted to stop feeling pain. I wanted it to all go away.

Despite my complaints, Manuca helped to sit me up, same as at breakfast, and sat on the edge of the bed. He gave me the pill that was supposed to make eating better; I swallowed it without complaint. The food was another story; I was not in the mood to eat. Still, he held the bowl out to me with a look that clearly said, ‘Now eat’.

I couldn’t bring myself to eat. I was so scared of being sick. My hand was shaking so badly as I picked up the chopsticks that even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t have been able to pick up the food. Manuca gently took the chopsticks from my hands and set them down on the bedside table. He then stood up and said, “I’ll grab you a spoon.”

I looked at the bowl of rice, corn, and chicken. I had hated meat ever since I had had Sting as a boy. Since being in the army, I had learnt to stomach it (the only other option was to starve), but even just looking at it had made me feel sick.

Manuca came back with a spoon and handed it to me. “Try to eat something.”

I could only manage four spoonfuls of rice before the food stated coming up back up. I tried to keep it down, but my body rejected it. The rice had tasted bad going down but even worse coming back up.

Once I was done wrenching into the bucket that Manuca had so helpfully supplied, I slumped back onto the pillows. I slumped too hard; I started coughing. My body really couldn’t give me a break.

Once I was finally done throwing up and coughing, Manuca went to get me some tea. I felt lightheaded from my coughing fit; my head was separate from my shaking, aching body. Every breath was a painful labour. I had forgotten how horrible Sting was. I could have sworn it was not this bad when I was seven.

Manuca came back with the tea. He placed it in my cold, shaking hands. The warm cup felt amazing against my skin. The tea going down my sore, vomit-coated throat felt amazing. The best part of the tea was that it didn’t make me feel sick; if anything, it made me feel better. Even if that feeling was short-lived.

Before leaving me to get some more sleep, Manuca rested his hand on my forehead. “It’s worse than before,” he muttered to himself. “I should go get Raltum.”

Manuca came back with Me-Te-Raltum a few minutes later. Me-Te-Raltum sat on the edge of my bed and gently rested their hand on my forehead. Their hand was warm and soft. They then listened to my breathing. I just lay there and let Me-Te-Raltum do what they needed to do. It wasn’t like I was in a state to do more than just lay there anyway. The food had made me feel terrible, and I had been awake for longer than twenty minutes. My body hated me.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

When Me-Te-Raltum was done listening to my rasping breath, they pulled my scratchy blanket up to my chin. It was so cold. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop my body from shaking. I wanted it to stop. It made the constant ache in my chest even worse.

“Manuca, could you get Fi-Rico another blanket?” Me-Te-Raltum said. “Fi-Rico, before I let you get some sleep, I would just like to let you know that we are going to send you to the Capital hospital tomorrow. They have much better treatment for Sting there; you will be much more likely to recover.”

I nodded slightly to let Me-Te-Raltum know I had heard them. I could feel the strength draining faster than my dinner had left my body that evening. I closed my eyes and let myself drift to sleep.

* * *

I slept fitfully. I was woken up so many times by my own coughing fits as well as the coughing fits of the others around me. I felt so bad for the medics who were forced to come to my aid at all hours of the night. It also didn’t help that I was perpetually cold. Even with the two blankets, my body never felt warm. I just wouldn’t stop shaking. Shaking made my skin rub against the blankets. I wished I had been given long-sleeve nightcloths.

When I woke up, there were voices. There were always voices. The medics couldn’t seem to shut up. I would normally zone them out and try to sleep through it, but this conversation seemed like one I should listen to because my name was mentioned.

"Jeranta, could you find Stagtum and tell him to pack up Fi-Rico’s things? You can also tell him that he can come say goodbye.” I was pretty sure that it was Me-Te-Raltum who was speaking, but I couldn’t be bothered to open my eyes to find out. The light was painful enough with my eyes closed.

“Will do Raltum,” Jeranta said, probably saluting or something.

I just lay awake, shivering for a while. No one bothered me, which I was more than happy about. No one came to force me to eat. I could tell that others were being fed, but I was, thankfully, not one of them. I guessed they had given up trying to get me to eat.

I drifted in and out of sleep for an hour or so. I was next awoken by Staggy gently stroking my sweaty face with his warm, callused hand. I opened my eyes, squinting as the sun burnt my eyes. I felt the bed sag as Staggy sat on it. It was a small bed, but I took up a surprisingly small amount of it. I must have lost a lot of weight; I was small but not that small.

“Hi Staggy.” I tried to sit up; I hated having conversations laying down, but my body wouldn’t allow for it. That tiny movement made me cough and my head spin. Staggy looped an arm under my back and carefully sat me up. He did it so skilfully it barely made me cough.

Once I was sitting up, I could see Staggy properly. He was wearing a blue facecloth with a fish pattern. Bags sat under his eyes, and his hair, which was normally tied back in a bun, was free and messy.

With a lot of effort, I reached out and grasped his hand, saying, “You don’t look so good.”

He gave me a strained smile. “I’ve been working. A few medics have gone down with Sting; a lot of medics are treating Sting patients, so they can’t treat the wounded, so I’ve been working overtime with the wounded patients.”

I smiled slyly. “Sorry to be so bothersome.” I took a painful breath. “I promise I did mean to get sick.”

Staggy laughed. “You’ll be leaving soon.” He fiddled with my blankets. “You better come back.”

“Don’t worry, dying is not high on my to-do list.”

“Good. I couldn’t handle losing you as well.”

I looked straight into his eyes. “There we go; that’s one more reason to live. You.”

“You’re welcome.” Staggy squeezed my hand.

“I’ll miss you, Staggy.”

“I’ll miss you to.” He pulled me into a hug. “I’ll see you soon,” he whispered into my ear.

“See you soon.” I whispered back.