Baylor Jones, a 12 year old girl with Asperger's syndrome (autism), with an abusive life that she doesn't know how to deal with. When the "accident" happens, she gets sent to live with her 6 older brothers who haven't seen her in eleven years.
Wil...
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My head hurts. My body is cold. My skin is hot. I feel like crying.
I've not been sick in a while, but I assume the mixture of drench clothes and cold rain makes an easy recipe for an illness.
I cuddle deeper into the warm chest laying beside me. I've never been more happy for someone to not have a shirt on. Thank you, Asher.
My digging must have woken him up, "Baylor, are you okay?" He puts his hand on my cheek. "Oh Sweetheart, you are burning up. Is anything bothering you?"
I shake my head "yes".
"Please tell me what's bothering you. I want to help."
I feel the tears wanting to pour out. "My head hurts, it's hard to take big deep breaths, my nose feels weird, and I'm tired. My muscles hurt too." Though I'm not sure if that's from being sick or my episode. "I just don't feel very good." A little sob escapes my mouth. I try to hide it, but it doesn't go unnoticed by my littlest big brother.
He wraps me tighter in his arms, "Sweetheart, don't cry, honey. We will get you some medicine to help you feel better. I know feeling like this is hard though, baby."
I don't like being sick and feeling yucky. It's overwhelming. I think Asher can tell it's overwhelming by the tiny flap of my hands that indicates my need to stim.
He gives me BoBo to rub, and cuddles me, waiting for me to calm down a little bit.
He gets up and goes to the kitchen to get a thermometer. I glance over at the clock, reading 6:00am. Oops I didn't mean to wake him up this early.
He comes back and takes my temperature, which read 102.3 degrees. (Fahrenheit)
When he looks at the thermometer he says, "How about we go to Beckett's room and let him know how your feeling?"
I ponder. Do I want to leave? No. Wait, is he even awake? If don't want to bother him, like I'm sure I always do.
"Is Beckett even awake right now?"
"Well no, but he would want to know if your sick."
I shake my head. "No, I don't want to get up. I'm okay, I'm fine." But I'm obviously not fine when my voice gets teary at the end.
I just don't like this feeling. But I don't know why I want to cry either. Maybe crying is a symptom of getting sick?
Once Asher hears my teary voice, he pick me up under my arms and brings me to rest on his shoulder, my bum sitting on his lap in the bed.
"Sweetheart, you don't have to be okay. I know you don't feel good, but Beckett can get some medicine to make you feel better. How about that? And guess what? I'll carry you to his room. You won't have to take a step. Sound good?"
"Okay" I whisper softly. Before he stands up, he wipes some of the tears, but unfortunately, they continue to come out even when I tell my mind to stop producing the salty drops.
