Immaculate (Book 3)

Green

A/N: Hello there my lovelies! A little fluff and then... more tension. But it's not entirely one sided this time, which is new. I don't really know what else to say so...enjoy!

Chapter 4

As expected, I managed to feel worse the next day. The bed was my sanctuary, and I had no plans of leaving.

What pulled me out of my sleep was the inability to breathe. I opened my mouth slightly to help, but didn't move. My whole body felt really heavy, and I felt miserable. Today a nice stomach ache accompanied the rest of the sickness.

I didn't want to move. I didn't want to do anything.

I flinched when I felt Scott rub my back soothingly. "Hey," he murmured. "It's almost 1. How are you feeling?" he quizzed.

I let out a soft groan in response, and didn't move. "I left out some meds on the nightstand. We'll be unpacking. If you need anything, I'll be right out in the living room, ok?" He inquired.

I didn't reply this time, and just exhaled slowly, trying to steady my nausea.

"Maybe I should call the doctor. You're worrying me," Scott stated worriedly after a brief silence.

Usually this is where I would complain about being babied, but it sounded like a good idea. I hadn't felt this sick before. I literally felt so horrible. Like almost to the point where I wanted to cry.

I pulled my knees up to my chest weakly and laid in the fetal position as Scott stepped into the other room to call the doctor.

I never handled being sick very well. This was a step up from the common cold or even the flu. Maybe it was pneumonia? I wasn't sure. My brain felt too foggy to think about it too much.

Wow, what a great moving experience. I was practically dying.

I winced at the churning in my stomach. I was gonna vomit. I felt too weak to make it to the bathroom.

I had to at least try. This was a brand new comforter, I couldn't ruin it with my sickness.

Ok, I didn't vomit all over the bed. Instead I fell off of the bed onto the floor, and vomited there. It was the most disgusting experience of my life.

Scott ran back in, phone against his ear. "Oh my god," he murmured before cringing in disgust at the vomit. He pressed the phone to his ear with his shoulder before reaching down and pulling me back onto the bed. "Are you alright?" He asked worriedly as he looked me over.

He stumbled back quickly as I doubled over, releasing more vomit onto the floor.

"Yeah, he's vomiting," Scott spoke into the phone, holding his free hand against his forehead and looking in the other direction.

I tuned out whatever else he was saying. After letting out a pathetic groan, I collapsed back onto the bed and buried my face into the comforter.

I heard other voices in the room, before sounds of disgust, but I had no intention of raising my head again.

I felt tears threatening to fall. I hated being sick. I heard a familiar voice saying my name, so I decided to listen in again. I turned my head and looked up at Scott. He looked distraught as he reached down and wiped my tears away.

"You're gonna be ok," he whispered soothingly. I groaned before burying my face back into the comforter, and falling asleep.

...

When I woke up again, I was in Scott's car, and he was driving. He was driving rather slowly, but I still felt car sick.

"There's a bag there unless you need to vomit again," he informed me.