Her Voice ✿ Emmett Cullen

Chapter 5

She was wrong. She woke up the next morning and immediately rushed to the bathroom, feeling a burn spread through her throat, spiking up from her stomach as she heaved into the toilet. But this wasn't normal. She's been sick plenty of times. It's never been like this before. She's sweating and shaking from the high fever. Whatever she was vomiting up wasn't normal. It felt like a thick slime forcing its way up her throat and out of her mouth.

Her stomach heaves again, and her throat burns even worse. A pained sob slips out before she was throwing her head back in the toilet.

"Lyra?" Her papa's voice appears in the doorway, and she hears him kneel next to her. But when his hand rests on her back, she flinches from the heat of his skin.

She couldn't reply, as she was too busy bringing up a ridiculous amount of this slime-like substance. When she finally stops, she groans, shaking her head slightly as sweat drips down her face.

Michael frowns before turning his gaze to the toilet. When he sees what she had just thrown up, his eyes widen and rushes out of the bathroom, calling his husband's name.

When Michael's presence leaves the room, the burning in her stomach dies down a little. She falls back against the wall, breathing against the wall. Instinctively, she reaches to flush the toilet, but freezes when she sees what she threw up. It's black. Completely and utterly black.

***

Lyra spent the rest of that day going back and forth between leaning against the wall behind her and vomiting profusely into the toilet. That evening, after about an hour had passed without her throwing up, she allowed herself to be removed from the bathroom and moved back to her bed.

She looked and felt like hell. Her throat burned and her lips were stained black. She had a high fever and was practically sweating through her shirts, yet she was shivering at the same time. And, she couldn't be around both of her dads because whenever Michael got close to her, her condition would get worse and her head would begin to pound as her throat burns more. Jeremy was fine but Michael couldn't be near her at all or else she would be in pain.

That night wasn't much better. She would sleep for an hour before waking up and piling blankets onto her body before going back to sleep only to wake up again an hour later to throw the blankets into the floor. When she actually was asleep, she tossed and turned as images of pale humanoid creatures with red eyes draining blood from humans as well as tan shirtless teenagers that turned into large wolves dancing through her head. She also dreamt of a human-looking boy who had fire and ice swirling around his hands and a pale girl with long white hair and blood red eyes that would screech loudly, creating large invisible blasts that would push things away from her.

The next two days passed with Lyra slipping in and out of sleep as her fever stole any and all energy she had. It wasn't until the evening of her third day being sick that her fever finally broke. She was finally able to get proper sleep.

The next morning, Lyra woke up feeling better than ever. It was like she was never sick. But, something was off. One, she knew that after being sick, it was often a more gradual progression of wellness, and two, she felt different.

She could hear her dads talking about telling someone something. The problem with that is that they were clearly speaking in hushed whispers and there was a floor between her and the adults. She was confused and she didn't know how to process what was happening to her. She silently pulled herself from her bed and started making her way downstairs.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she was hit with an almost dog-like scent, causing her to stumble back in surprise as she grimaced. As she stumbled into the kitchen and sat down at the table, she asked, "What is that god awful dog scent?"