Swallow Your Affection

A Bumpy Recovery

The next time you wake up- you're finally... feeling.

You blinked- several times with a fluttering motion- blearily looking down at the the fleece blanket.

Last time you saw it, nothing had been on top of it, but now it had obtained several animal pelts.

Each one was cleaned, and silky, and you were tucked under all of them, nearly drowning under all the blankets. Just the way you liked it.

It wasn't the warmest- because- well- your body doesn't exactly make warmth- but it was the closest thing to warmth retention you could get.

Taking in a deep breath, you lift your arm straight up into the air and just stare at the back of your hand. Your muscles stretched at the movement, feeling strange after not moving for so long.

Goosebumps were all over your skin with how cold it was- but whatever sort of heat that the fireplace had must be enough for you to at least not fall into a shivering mess.

You groaned to yourself in exhaustion,  huffing out a breath and putting your arm back under the blankets.

The recurring question of how long rose- as time seemed so skewed with how much you were flickering.

Some new things had been added to the room- some animal pelts hung near the walls, a bigger bookshelf- an enchantment table-

Last time you vaguely took in the room, it didn't have as much in it, which had to have meant that you were out for awhile.

You glanced to the side of the bed, looking at an end table. The end table Phil accidently knocked stuff off of last time you were conscious.

There were a few unlit candles, a book, and a glass of water. Who knows how long that cup was sitting there. Not that you cared.

With a weak push, you sat up- something in your chest flaring up with the movement- a terrible ache scuttling into your lunges as you gently put yourself against the headboard.

Okay.

No more twisting.

Twisting hurt- way too much.

You took deep breaths, before only moving your arm to reach to the end table, plucking the water off it before straight up chugging the whole thing-

You need answers.

Wallowing in bed like this is too much.

You needed Phil to be here to answer your questions.

Not the silence.

You shake your head, immediately flinching when your mind starts pounding at the movement.

Gods.

Everything hurt like a bitch.

And no one was coming-

How were you supposed to get someone's attention?

With a glance, you look at the empty cup you were still holding.

Oh yeah.

It's all coming together.

You promptly lift your arm to throw it- and then promptly realize that moving your arm up like that was a horrible idea-

Pulling your arm up like that stretched your muscles- muscles that were incredibly sore- which in turn made you drop the glass cup on your head-

"FUCK-" You yell- and then descend into a coughing fit, because your voice is not supposed to go that loud with how much it hurt to speak, much less whisper.