“I’ve got you,” he said quietly, and a washcloth appeared in her peripheral vision. She took it with shaking hands and pressed its cool dampness to her face.
Every time she thought maybe it was over, her insides twisted and started all over again.
When the worst passed, or at least paused, Spence offered her a package of baby wipes to clean up with, and then half-carried her back to bed. She was shaking so hard, her teeth chattered.
“How long was I asleep?” Her voice came out barely a whisper.
“About thirty minutes.” Spence pulled the covers up, tucked them around her like she was a child. “Your body’s still trying to purge the toxin. This is normal.”
“Normal feels like fucking shit.”
“I know.” He sat on the bed beside her again, his legs crossed, and offered her more ice chips. “Two ounces of liquid in you every hour is forty-eight ounces per day.”
She accepted the ice chips without arguing, when she’d been about to refuse them. She’d just shit out way more than forty-eight ounces of liquid, and no telling what she’d lost in the upstairs bathroom. She needed to hydrate, and she’d learned from nursing Felix and Toby that tiny amounts might actually stay down.
Later, Spence put an ice pack on her head, and it helped her splitting headache enough she could close her eyes and drift off.
She’d occasionally surface and then submerge again, consciousness flickering like a faulty light — but Spence was always right beside her.
Time stopped making sense, and more pains arrived. Her entire body hurt and ached. She’d be cold a while,bundled under a half-dozen blankets with Spence holding her to help keep her warm, and then burning up, no blanket, and she’d even strip her shirt off, trying not to burn up.
Her body became a series of enemies, each part staging its own rebellion.
At Spence’s encouragement, she tried to keep down a few sips of broth, but her stomach rejected it with such force she barely got the small bucket in front of her before it came up. Bile and the pathetic amount of liquid she’d managed projected itself out of her stomach, burning her throat raw all over again.
Spence held her hair back, his other hand steady on her shoulder, and didn’t say anything when she started crying.
When it was all up and out, he cleaned her face with the cool cloth and offered more ice chips. Always ice chips. Her mouth was so dry it felt like her tongue had turned to leather, but anything more than tiny sips came right back up.
The next time she woke, the headache had returned like a hurricane, the pressure so bad she thought her brain might pop open her skull — a relentless pounding that made even the dim lights in the room feel like daggers.
“Lights,” she managed, and Spence immediately dimmed them further.
It barely helped, but another ice pack dulled it a tiny bit. Emmy pressed the heels of her palms against her eye sockets, trying to create counter-pressure, but it just made the throbbing worse. Every heartbeat sent a fresh wave of pain radiating through her skull.
“Can you…” she started, but even talking made her head pound harder.
“What do you need?” Spence leaned in close, his voice pitched low and soft.
“Make it stop.”
“I can’t, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” He stroked her hair back from her forehead with gentle fingers. “But I’m right here.”
She curled into a ball, folded the washcloth over her eyes to block out what little light remained, and tried to breathe through the pain.
Time dissolved.
The next time she woke, the body aches were so much worse, and on top of the headache, she thought maybe dying wasn’t just a bad idea.
Her joints felt like someone had replaced the cartilage with ground glass. Her muscles cramped and seized, forcing her to move, but that hurt just as much as staying still. She hadn’t even known this deep, bone-weary agony was possible. Every cell in her body just fuckinghurt.
“Hurts,” she whimpered, and hated how small her voice sounded.
Spence’s hands were there immediately, warm and steady, working the worst of the cramps in her calves. It helped, but only at the exact spot he touched. Everywhere else still screamed.
“I know. I’m sorry. I know it hurts.”
Emmy’s hand trembled when she reached to move the ice pack to another part of her head, her fingers shaking so badly she nearly dropped it. She stared at her own hand like it belonged to someone else.
