Page 6 of Fragile Touch (Fragile 1)
I have to get up and keep going, she thought, but even her thoughts were so weak she barely heard them inside her head. I’ll just take my vitamins and medicine and be back to normal.
Wincing, she managed to pull herself to her feet by grabbing the handle of a drawer above her head. Her lungs felt like they had been deflated and her stomach like bricks were sitting in it. Every breath felt heavy.
It’s just mind over matter, she tried to tell herself. The cats need to be fed. She looked up and saw the trash, a container of almond milk jutting out the top. No, that’s disgusting.
“I have to take the trash out,” she tried to tell her animals, but it came out in a thin whisper. Never taking her eyes off the trash, she sat down in front of a glass of water that was left over from last night and downed the whole thing. It helped her feel a little more alive. Not much, but enough that she was sure carrying a bag of garbage to the sidewalk would be no problem.
She hoisted herself up and, bracing herself on the counter, tied the garbage bag shut. “Time to go out,” she rasped to the hungry cats. The trash bag felt like it weighed as much as she did, and took all her strength to carry it to the front door.
Ignore the fingerprints. Ignore the fingerprints. Ignore the fingerprints. Why do I always notice things to do when I feel sick? I should be able to rest when I’m sick.
She pulled the door open and didn’t bother to close it behind her. If any bugs flew in, the cats could kill them. Maybe if she let bugs in more often the cats wouldn’t beg her to be fed so often, she thought sarcastically.
Getting the trash bag down the front steps, one hand on the railing, was a hassle. Halfway down she realized she’d forgotten to take her medicine with the glass of water she had drained.
No, I didn’t eat anything, and I’m supposed to take the meds and vitamins with food. Geez, today is not my day.
She tried to think something else, but it slipped her mind. Her head felt light and the gentle after-storm breeze threatened to knock her over as she dragged the bag slowly down the sidewalk.
Focus on each step.
Step. Step. Step.
Something out of the corner of her eye moved, but she didn’t have the energy to turn her head. Right now, her greatest task in life was to get this darned bag of trash to its pickup bin. Nothing else mattered.
She heard a voice. It sounded too far away to be real.
I’m going crazy.
She kept dragging the bag and when she reached the bin, she stopped and put her hand on the top to steady herself. Her lower half was in so much pain she could hardly feel her body. She tried to think but couldn’t focus.
“Need help?”
So the voice was real. Turning her head, she saw party guy.
Right there, three feet away, on the other side of his bushes.
“Hangover that bad, huh?”
“Is it possible,” she breathed, suddenly feeling a cold sweat break out on her forehead, “to be so lightheaded that you feel strong?”
If she had been more aware of her surroundings, she would’ve seen a genuinely confused expression on his face as he replied, “I don’t know—I’ve never felt that way... I think you mean weak.”
But before he could finish saying it, Lillian fell to her knees and emptied the contents of her stomach into his bushes.
As soon as she was sure everything had been expelled, she felt both immensely better and worse at the same time. A feeling of blissfulness overcame her, and she smiled as she sank to the ground. It was warm and solid down here. She never wanted to move again.
What happened next was a blur that faded in and out. She was off the ground, and somehow ended up on her sofa. Loud meows reached her ears.
“I need to feed the cats.” Did she think it or say it?
Everything went black. The heavy sleep was so deep she could feel herself wrapped up in it. It was like the ground outside: cozy, stable, safe.
Her eyes opened. A couple of lamps were on. The shadows on the ceiling showed her the blinds were closed. The room was cool.
With a groan, she turned on her side and let her arms hang off. Her fingertips tingled.
Take me back, sleep.
