Page 37 of Rhys: and the girl who was always his

The next thing I know—my body betrays me, and everything succumbs to darkness.

* * *

When consciousness slowly creeps back, I’m not sure how much time has passed. My entire body feels like it’s not my own, heavy and alien, as if I were a stranger in my own skin.

A dull ache gnaws at my muscles and my jaw protests from being clenched so fiercely. Even the simple act of speaking or swallowing feels like a monumental effort.

I squint at the ceiling, trying to piece together the fragments of confusion swirling in my head. The overhead light is glaringly bright, and the world appears both painfully crisp yet disconcertingly out of focus.

“Ally?”

The voice is soft, tentative—a lifeline amidst the turmoil.

I turn slowly, my stomach twisting in protest at the movement. There, kneeling beside me, is Ashley. Her brows furrowed with worry as she studies me intently.

My mouth is parched, every word stuck somewhere deep in my throat. “What…?”

“You had a seizure.”

Her words slap me hard, sending a shockwave straight to my chest. “What?” I manage to say.

Ashley moves even closer, her hands resting lightly on her knees in a careful, deliberate manner—as though she fears that one wrong move might shatter me completely. “I got home early, Ally. I found you on the floor. You were… seizing.”

“No.” The denial bursts out, sharp and brittle. My heart pounds erratically, a fierce protest against this new reality. “I just—I must’ve passed out again.”

Her disapproval is clear as she shakes her head. “It’s not just fainting. I didn’t make that up, Ally. I saw what was happening.”

A cold dread curls deep in my stomach, my fingers digging into the fabric of my hoodie in a vain attempt to ground myself.

This isn’t real.

It can’t be real.

“No,” I insist, forcing the word through clenched teeth. “It was nothing. I was just tired. Maybe I didn’t eat enough.”

Ashley’s eyes search mine, her concern palpable. “Ally,” she pleads softly.

I look away, a heavy, clammy feeling weighing down my chest. Nausea churns within me as my hands tremble uncontrollably. “I just need a minute.”

She doesn’t push further, yet she remains there—silent, present. The room fills with a thick, heavy quiet as memories of dizziness, moments when time seemed to unravel, and those brief spells of losing myself haunt my thoughts.

It has to be nothing.

After what seems like an eternity, Ashley breaks the silence, her voice gentle yet laced with urgency. “I really think you should see a doctor. This isn’t normal, Ally.”

I shake my head, gasping out, “I don’t—no. I’m fine.”

Her lips press into a thin line. “You had a seizure, and that’s not something to brush off.”

In an effort to stifle the rising panic, I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the fear to fade. I can’t—won’t—believe that I’m on the brink of something so serious. Then, in a softer tone, Ashley ventures, “It could be epilepsy.”

My stomach flips violently. “No.”

“Ally—”

“No.” My protest is sharper this time, a desperate attempt to convince both her and me. “It’s not that. It’s nothing. I’m just worn out, okay? We’ve all been under so much stress—I just need to take better care of myself.”

Ashley says nothing further, but the unanswered questions in her eyes betray a worry I can’t ignore.

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