Page 87 of Petite Fleur

Based on how he reacted to me taking my finals, I'm scared to ask. I'm scared to show him how sick I am right now. What if I make him mad? What if he's annoyed that I'm a burden?

What if I’m not worth the effort to care for and end up dumped in a ditch somewhere?

I can’t think about that right now. I need water, I know I do, but I feel too weak to walk across the house to the kitchen, and there's no cup in the bathroom. So, I'm going without.

Maybe Leon will bring me some water. That would be nice, but I won't ask.

I feel stupid about yesterday. I've always been cautious about my celiac, but all it took was for him to say I could trust him, and I blindly did. Clearly, that worked out well for me.

I curl up into a ball in bed, hugging my midsection. My stomach hurts so bad that I want to cry.

It's taking everything in me not to groan out in pain, but I don't want to wake Leon and make him mad, but my cramps are insane, and the bloating makes it understandable why Leon thought I was pregnant.

I mean, I still could be, but he only just had sex with me three days ago; there's no way I would know already.

As soon as I'm comfortably situated under the blankets, I feel cold. I'm so cold that my body hurts even more than it already did, but I'm too cold to get up and grab another blanket, so I just cover up my head in hopes of trapping as much heat as I can.

I feel Leon's warm hand on my back. Even through the blanket, he feels warm. "What can I do to help you?" He asks me, his hand rubbing along my back through the blankets.

I don't want to answer. I don't want his help. I just want to be left alone to suffer the consequences of trusting my kidnapper. I just want him to leave for work and leave me alone. I deserve it for believing in him, for trusting him.

I hear Leon climb out of bed, missing the warmth of his hand as soon as it leaves my back. This plan to bury myself under the blanket to warm up isn't working. I'm just as cold—too cold to move, too cold to talk. All I can do is chatter my teeth and shiver while goosebumps line every inch of my skin and make my joints hurt even worse.

After several minutes of suffering alone, I hear Leon's footsteps get closer until he uncovers my lower half. I whine in protest, but then I feel him pulling a pair of sweatpants onto my almost naked legs. Next, I feel him put a pair of socks on my bare feet. It immediately helps, but I'm still so cold that it physically hurts me. I want to cry, but I know I'm far too dehydrated to afford to cry without making myself sicker.

He covers me up again, adding another blanket on top and tucking me in. Well, most of me. He uncovers my arm, and I can feel the goosebumps take over my entire arm as soon as the chilly air hits my skin.

I hate feeling like this.

Leon wraps something rubbery around my arm and tightens it. Next, I feel a cold liquid rub against the bend of my elbow. I uncover my face to see him rubbing my skin with an alcohol pad. I raise an eyebrow at him, but he ignores me. I flinch when I see him carefully open a sterilized package containing a needle. I try to pull my arm away, but his grip doesn't allow me to.

"I know you don't trust me right now, but I'm trying to help you." He tells me.

He brings the needle closer to my arm, but I jerk my arm away from him and away from the needle. "It's just an IV. I promise I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm trying to make up for yesterday. This will help you, okay?" He says. I don't want to trust him. I don't even know if he knows what he's doing with that needle, but it can't get much worse.

Can it?

Leon hooks up the IV and hangs a bag of fluids on the bedpost. He adds a few syringes of things, explaining them to me as he does so. He explains that he is adding an anti-inflammatory, an anti-nausea, a very mild steroid, and something for the diarrhea.

He also tells me that I'm not staying in bed today. I want to argue, but I feel terrible, and I honestly don't want to even open my mouth. So I don't protest when he lays the IV bag against my stomach and lifts me into his arms.

I whine as the cold air hits my skin and the blanket falls from around me, but he just quietly shushes me and walks out of his bedroom.

I feel myself cling to him as he carries me out of his bedroom. I’m freezing, and my body is aching, but I’m scared of being dropped or thrown outside to suffer alone, so I keep my arms tightly around him as he brings me out into the hallway.

This house is so cold. It feels nice when I'm feeling well, but when I'm sick, it's terrible. I want to cry, clutch onto Leon tightly, and steal his body heat, but I also don't want him to come anywhere near me.

Being sick hasn't let me forget that he was so cold and cruel toward me at dinner last night that he so quickly shifted from someone I could possibly like to someone I want to hide from.

He carries me through his house until I feel warmth. I open my eyes and see that we are in his living room, and the fireplace is lit.

He carefully sits me down on the chase of the couch and puts my IV on the back. A moment later, he crawls in behind me and sits me between his legs. I want to protest, I want to push him away, but I also want to steal his warmth. So when he leans myback against his chest, I don't fight him. I don't even fight him when he wraps his arms around me. I sigh contentedly when the warmth starts to surround me, and my shivering slightly stops.

"We're staying here all day. If you need anything, just tell me. If you start to feel sick, just let me know so I can help you, okay?" He whispers quietly into my ear.

I nod, but I don't give him any other response. I'm too tired to respond.

Leon cocoons me in blankets and his body heat, wrapping me up until I feel so warm and safe that, for the first time since dinner yesterday, I feel comfortable enough to sleep. I fight it off for a little while, but soon, my head bobs and falls onto his chest, and my eyes feel too heavy to keep open.

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