CHAPTER TWO

Voices floated around me even as I floundered in the ever constant pain. Had it been days? Weeks? Hours? I was no longer able to tell.

Gradually, feeling returned to my hands, and, finding myself able to move them, I explored my surroundings, trying to figure out where I was. A soft knitted wool blanket, a firm yet comfortable bed, a down pillow that was only half way full. And the comforting and familiar scent of my parents.

I relaxed, knowing at last where I was. Laying in the only bed in the house. In a bed I had only laid in once before that I could remember, and that was when I had fallen down a steep hill when I was thirteen, breaking my arm and scraping my whole body from head to toe. Guilt swept through me, almost as strong as the pain that still coursed through my veins like fire. My poor family. What would they think of me? Why did I have to do this to myself? Why hadn't I just left it all alone? Why had I made that deal? A deal with a man who hadn't even given me his name. Did my family know what had happened? Did they know what I had done? Did they know what was wrong with me? Did I for that matter? The questions swirled around my head, and the pain flared suddenly worse. I couldn't stop the groan that escaped past my lips, no matter how hard I tried. Someone gripped my hand, their grip cold and light.

"Lindi? Are you alright?" Elaine asked, her seven-year-old voice was scared and high pitched, grating on my ears and sending a new spike of pain shooting through my eyes, and penetrating deep into my skull.

I bit down on my tongue to keep from crying out. It wasn't my little sister's fault. It was mine. Why had I been so stupid? Stupid enough to believe that someone could give me back my sight? Stupid enough to agree. They had probably poisoned me instead.

"Are you okay, Lindi? Can you hear me?"

My heart ached at the sound of my nickname. She loved calling me Lindi. Even if she could pronounce Linden by now. I clenched my jaw and forced out a one word answer. "Yes." Even though I meant for my voice to sound confident, it came out as nothing more than a strangled whisper. I hated feeling so weak. I hated being so weak. And I hated making my family worry about me. They already worried about me on a daily basis and I didn't want to give them any reason to. I had hoped that by making the deal, I would be able to free them of that burden. But now I had just chucked that hope out the window.

Elaine gasped. "Ma! Da! Lindi just talked!"

My strangled cry was loud enough to drown out her shout, but I couldn't help it. My head felt like it had exploded, agony washing through me like a flash flood. It felt like my head had been severed from my body and dunked in boiling water. People rushed into the room,the familiar footsteps of my mother and father, accompanied by the less familiar sound of the doctor's dragging feet. I tried to concentrate on this sound, tried to escape the pain, to ignore it, but it was proving almost impossible.

"Elaine, why did you shout?!" My mother asked, half scolding, half moaning with worry.

My stomach churned horribly, and I pressed my lips tightly together. I would not ruin my parents bed by getting sick all over it. The pain began to fade.

"Elaine, go outside," my father ordered sternly.

My sister began to protest and I could hear the tears in her voice.

"No," I said, the sound horse and weak. "She's…fine."

My mother gave a choked cry of surprise. "Linden? Are you okay? What happened? Where does it hurt, dear?"

If my head didn't hurt so much, I would have laughed, but even the small smile that slipped through made my face ache even more. Like someone had smashed a frying pan into it. Mother was always fussing and fidgeting whenever someone was hurt.

"I'm fine, Ma," I whispered. Though that was a lie, and everyone knew it. She clucked and straightened out my covers, fidgeting.

"Do you remember what happened to you, Linden?" The doctor asked gently. There was a scrape of a chair and his soft sigh as he eased into it.

"No," I said. But again that was a lie. I wished they would just leave me alone. My head, though better than before, was still killing me. I just wanted to sleep. To drift away. And I didn't want to hear the disappointment in their voices if I told them the truth. My mother ran her hand through my hair and I tried to shift away, but it was too late. Pain ricocheted through my skull, as if some had grabbed each tiny hair on my head and was pulling it in a different direction. Again I was too weak. Too weak to stop the whimper from escaping.

I was pathetic.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Her hand left my hair immediately, but the pain still lingered. I laid very still and tried to even out my breathing. Maybe if they thought I was asleep, they would leave me alone.

"Linden?" My mother asked, worried. "What's wrong?"

I didn't answer. It was mean, and I knew they were only trying to figure out what was wrong. They were probably very confused. But I was terrified. Was this going to be my life from now on? Varying degrees of pain and torture? Yes, the pain had gone down considerably, but what about when there were loud noises, or someone touched me? My breath hitched as a horrifying thought occurred to me: what if the man had actually taken away everything I still had? Touch, taste, hearing and smell? All of the noises that didn't used to bother me, were now unbearable. And the slightest touch made the pain return as if it had never faded.

"Linden?" My father asked.

"I think he went to sleep," Elaine said, her voice an over attempted whisper.

I stayed silent.

The doctor and my family left the room, their footsteps fading as they made their way to the kitchen.

"What is wrong with him?" My father's voice was strained, almost frantic.

"I don't know, Mr. Barlowe," the doctor answered.

"Surely you've come across something like this before though, haven't you?" This time it was mother who spoke.

"I'm sorry, I haven't. This is the first time I've ever seen something like this."

"What do we do?"

The doctor sighed. "I'm afraid there is nothing we can do. We just have to wait and see what happens. Send for me at once if anything changes; my wife will know where I am if I'm not at home. Good day."

I listened to the sound of the door closing, then of a carriage pulling away.

###

I could feel the shift in warmth as the sun sank lower on the horizon, but instead of cooling off as the sun went behind the mountains, it seemed to be getting hotter. There were the rare warm days in the winter, but it was getting extremely hot. I shifted uncomfortably and a quiet moan escaped as the action sent pain through my whole body. It wasn't as bad as before, but at this point everything hurt worse than it ever had before this day. A few minutes later, Elaine crept quietly into the room. I heard her pause inside of the door, then she continued towards the window. I heard the latch click as she released the shutters, preparing to close them for the evening. How could she be cold? Everything seemed so hot, even the blankets covering me seemed suffocating. The shutters creaked as she swung them closed.

“Please,” I whispered. “Leave them open. It's so hot.”

I heard her jump, then the shutters opened again.

“But it is starting to get cold, Lindi,” Elaine said, her voice no more than a whisper.

“No,” I mumbled. My voice felt thick, like my tongue was too big for my mouth. “It's so hot.” I tried pushing the blankets off. My arms were weak and I felt so tired, but I kept trying. It was getting much too hot.

Elaine pulled the covers away from my chest, but it was still too much.

“You seem very red, Lindi,” she said, her words filled with worry.

I tried to answer, but all that came out was another pitiful groan. Elaine's little footsteps hurried from the room and a moment later mother was at my side.

“It's so hot,” I said again, each word far more difficult to get past my lips than it should have been.

“Oh, dear.” She very gently laid her hand on my forehead. I wanted to turn my head away from the pain her touch caused, but at the same time her hand felt wonderfully cool against my skin.

“Elaine, get your father, he needs to send for doctor Humbert immediately.”

She removed her hand and I tried to grab for her, but she had already left, racing off the kitchen. I felt so tired, like each one of my fingers had turned to stone. The heat continued to increase until everything seemed to be burning, until it felt like my body had caught fire. I kicked at the covers, trying to get away, trying to get up, but I couldn't.

“Linden, honey, it's alright. Please hold still, I need to put this on.” Mother's voice barely calmed me. Didn't she see the fire? Why wasn't she helping me get free?

“Lucy,” I mumbled, thrashing at the quilt that now seemed to be pinning me down. Lucy will help me… But I couldn't find her. I couldn't hear her. Everything was silent all around me, as if someone had plunged my head underwater. “Lucy!” I called, but there was no answer from my goose. I tried again, but only silence greeted me. I called for my sister, my mother, my father, anyone. I just needed someone to help me. The quilt seemed to be squeezing my chest, tighter and tighter. But no one answered. No one came. I bucked and kicked, ignoring the pain, ignoring the silence, ignoring the empty blackness that was my life. I needed to escape. Anything to escape. The pain increased and I became weaker and weaker, each effort with less strength than the last. Fire engulfed my body, flames licking at every part of me, especially my head. I wanted to scream, but it felt like a horse was stepping on my chest, making each breath its own battle.

Sounds momentarily returned, or maybe it was my imagination. Doctor Humbert was talking, but his words were garbled and sounded too loud.

“The fever is raging, and he is incredibly weak. I would sit with him through the rest of the night, Mrs. Barlowe. I'm afraid Linden may not be strong enough to fight much longer.”

I couldn't process his words, couldn't pick out their meaning. It was just noise.

Then the silence returned, and I was alone; spinning away in an endless void.