The Price You Pay

The Price You Pay: Chapter 17

Day and night turn into eternal twilight as I lie and wait until the fever goes down again. I sleep at times, but many hours are spent awake, looking into nothingness, too tired to worry, too tired to be scared.

All the time in the world to remember Maya's warm arms around me.

I try not to linger on that memory. I think the chances of that happening again are slim and I would never dare to ask for it.

But oh, it felt so good to be held like that. How I've longed for arms around me that were reassuring, not restraining. I gave in, pushed away my fear and took the risk. It's the best gift I could ever receive.

I feel very awkward when I see Maya the first time 'after,' but she doesn't seem to notice it, nor does she seem to be uncomfortable around me. She doesn't bring it up, and I am grateful for that. It means she also won't laugh at me for wanting to be held, to be hugged.

Maya is in and out of my room to care for me, although I flat out refuse her help. She doesn't force me to do anything either and every time she leaves the room, I exhale in relief. Every time she leaves me and nothing has happened, a tiny bit of anxiety evaporates.

I'm still tense as a wire, though.

Maya tells me about eleventy billion times that I shouldn't feel worried about being sick and that she wants me to relax so that I can get better. She also tells me that nobody would come to my room and that she would appreciate it if I could leave my door unlocked so she can bring me food and stuff without me having to go up to open the door.

Gah. I don't like that thought, but I know now that they have a key anyway so it doesn't really matter if I lock the door or not.

They can get in if they want to.

Yet they have never done this, but for Friday night.

I think I must have screamed or something to get their attention like that. The thought alone is horrifying. Maya told me I must have been hallucinating. I don't really remember anything, but there is a nagging pain in my right hand — almost a phantom pain of that time I got hit with the poker.

Sighing, I turn to my side. It's a big leap, from a hug to that poker. It's confusing, too.

Meh. I don't have the energy to really worry and besides, my head feels like it's stuffed. Being too sick to think things through can be a gift, I come to realize. I huddle deeper under the blankets and drift off again.

No, sleep is not good. I have recurring nightmares and when I wake up my sheets are once more damp with sweat. Looking at my watch I can see it's three. Would it be Saturday or Sunday? Monday maybe? Nah. I have completely lost track of time.

But, I do feel a bit better. I still bark like a dog in violent coughing fits but my head is clearer. I wish I had an extra pair of pyjamas though. These feel soaked.

Maya announces her presence with a knock on the door and comes in when I clap my hands. Gah. I won't ever get used to it.

"You were sleeping earlier," she smiles as she steps in. She's carrying a steaming mug — presumably some broth. I've been living on that over the last days. I flatly refuse the fluid food. It comes out quicker than I get it in. I won't eat it anymore.

"I brought you something to drink. How are you?"

I nod carefully — I'm better now. I still feel awkward and shy under her gaze. Have done since she put her arms around me. It's hard to admit how wonderful it felt.

It's harder to admit I want it again.

"You look a bit better. Hey, what do you think of maybe a shower and changing into clean things? I can clean the sheets on your bed in the meantime?"