Resisting the Player -- [Completed - Unedited]

Chapter 19: Sick

I trudge my way upstairs, backpack in hand, utterly exhausted. And it's only three o'clock.

Everything hurts, and I want to die.

I swear I'm going to find a way to go back in time and murder whoever came up with the idea of high school starting so early in the morning.

Ever since I almost killed Aaron for not telling me he had a sister––I mean, seriously, how do you just not tell someone that?––Autumn had been hanging out with us.

Everybody had no problem with her being there––except for Aaron, but I think that's because she's his sister.

A few days had passed since she started hanging out with us, and today was Friday.

Normally, most kids my age would probably be out somewhere, having fun.

Me? All I wanted to do was sleep and never wake up. Maybe then I'd finally catch up on all the sleep I miss on a daily basis.

I drop my backpack by my door and shuffle over to my bed, throwing myself on it and snuggling into one of my pillows.

My head pounds, and my skin feels clammy, and I just feel so...icky.

I feel myself start to drift off to sleep, and that's when my mom bursts through my door.

"Cass, sweetie?" she asks.

"Yes, mom?"

"Could you go do the dishes for me, please?"

I huff into my pillow, and I slowly push myself up and get out of bed.

"Sure, mom," I say tiredly, my feet moving me out my door and downstairs.

It's really cold right now. I'm shivering as I walk and I make a detour to the thermostat to turn the heat up before I head towards the kitchen to wash the dishes.

I stop once I see the amount of dishes in the sink.

There's a bowl and a spoon.

You have got to be kidding me.

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After I got done washing the dishes, I stayed downstairs for a little bit, played with the dogs, watched TV––the usual––and by the time I felt like I was going to pass out, it was only eight-thirty.

Fucking school.

I wouldn't be surprised if I started growing white hair because of all the stress.

I slowly make my way up the stairs, feeling much more tired than I did a couple hours ago, and collapse onto my bed once again.

I keep tossing and turning, mostly because I keep getting so hot to the point where I'm sweating and then getting so cold to the point where I'm shivering.

It's torture.

And I can't get comfortable, no matter how hard I try, no matter what way I lay on the bed, I just can't

So I lay there, uncomfortable and hot––scratch that, it's cold again ––until I eventually fall asleep.

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My eyes open slowly, almost as if they're being held shut, and my body aches.

Not in the good way, like after a workout, but in the bad way.

In the sick way.

Oh, God, please don't tell me I'm sick.

"Mom?" I croak out, my voice sounding like I ate glass for dinner, and I let out a cough that was building up inside my chest. "Dad?"