Withering World [MCSM Fanfiction]

ENGULFMENT: Chapter 46

Jesse

Let's recap: I've had three Beacontown visitors give me their condolences, a visit from Olivia to help my blood circulation flowing and a visit from Harper to change my feeding tube.

Nothing's new.

I always knew you could get stress from doing too much; that's been in my flesh from the start. But the panic attacks I get from doing nothing at all drag out long enough to make me want to die right here, right now.

Rest, Jesse. Don't let your mind fall into chaos.

I'm already a victim of sickness; that terrible milestone of becoming one is long gone. I also know that wasting a second to overthink is deadly.

My ultimate resort to this dilemma is to sleep, to shut my brain down from taking steps to self-destruct. The ebb and flow of a dreamy river discharge past my skull, inking every part of my body with a fictitious drug, and I submerge further into my hospital sheets.

I'm going under.

----

When I regain my consciousness, the right side of my neck tingles with sores as my head lolled off to the left in my sleep. Groggily, I open my eyelids, my sight slightly tinted dark purple. The research leaflet said I could become partially blind in this stage. What if dragon's breath is all I'm going to see within the next few days?

To rid the sores on my neck, I defy the pain, gradually turning my head towards the right. That's when I see my best friend, sitting on a chair in the most impractical way, legs perched over one armrest and back leant against the other. Her head is reclined on the backrest and it looks as if she's reading some sort of... book.

She notices my subtle movement and pivots to face me faster than she could ever draw her sword. Both of us say nothing until I'm able to force myself into a sitting position.

Before I can say anything, she puts her book away and traps me in an embrace which doesn't take me by surprise, the weight of her head on my shoulder an explosion of relief and joy in the cavity of my heart. The floodgates of comfort open wide as I let her onto my bed to resume the hug. Petra's warmth scares away all Death's minions who plot a heist for my soul.

Alas, we part too soon, breathless now because of how her soft touch triggered my hyperventilation. I thought I'd never see her again.

"You just had to go on long enough to see me again, hadn't you?" she asks as if she'd read my mind.

"What can I say? I'm not a quitter." My voice is hoarse and I may as well be mouthing every word I say, but not for Petra. No, she is far too important to me to not give my all.

"Course you're not, dummy." She gives a troubled chuckle. "Jesse, I- I missed you so, so much."

"Yeah? I woke up every day after you left, chanting that you'd be back soon with the special ingredient."

Her face suddenly molds itself as if she were going to cry, my comment striking her right in the heart. But no tears pool at her eyes and her scleras remain paper pale. "I'm sorry for not seeing you right away. I really am. I just- I needed clarity of what was really happening: I- I don't know what's real and what's not, though I know that's no excuse."

The Underneath must have been too much. After forgiving her momentarily, I remember the beacon and its loss, the resignation of the nether star. "I have news for you," I say, which I hope will make her forget about ever feeling guilty.

Unexpectedly, her expression hardens like something had flashed at the back of her mind. "So do I - that's partly why I came. You go first."

I trust that my sickness is hiding all the suspicion in my face. What sort of news? She seemed quite eager - too eager - when she mentioned wanting me to go first. Other than that, the rest of her tone is low and unenthusiastic.