Chapter Thirty-Five: "I Totally Jinxed Myself."
Part I (Brooklyn's POV)
I SHOULD NOT HAVE SAID that things would get better.
Because I was wrong.
I went to the doctor on Tuesday last week. Everything was great, my arm healed, the man cut that shit plaster off and freed my limb from that suffocating cocoon. My arm had a rash from the rubbing of the plaster, but it was nothing I wasn't used to.
That was definitely the best day.
It's now Thursday the following week.
It's been a week and a half since I've been to school, and a week and a half since I had that major panic attack and left that group I've grown fondly of.
It wasn't a sense that I wanted to ditch school because I'd have no friends. I wouldn't do that to myself; be stupid. Losing education over having a friend say something bad to me that hurt my fucking feelings? Why have friends when you can have yourself? Someone who won't hurt you, someone whose opinion is the only one that matters? Someone who focuses on you and you only.
Nope, I couldn't care less about friends anymore. I've kept the promise to myself that night that friends don't matter. They're unimportant to me, and my schooling comes first before they do. Sure, friends are necessary in your life, but I have friends in LA, and they're the only ones that matter to me. I know they won't break my heart. They were there with me through my worst, and they stayed after. They're truly foreverâI don't need anyone else. It just increases my chance of heartbreak again.
The group has messaged me a couple times, apologizing for Atticus' behaviour and want me to come back to them. I, however, went cold shoulder on everyone. Even the school. They'd call, and I'd never answer. It got to the point where nobody knew where I was or what happened to me. Carly and Bella have been raging my phone with calls and texts, demanding what the hell has gone wrong and why I haven't been at school for days without even a word said. My roommates have told me that rumour has it that I had some huge mental breakdown and ran back to Mexico, however everyone knows that's false. Hopefully.
No, I've skipped the past week and a half because I've legitimately been barfing my brains out. The first four days were bad migraines and severe stomach pain in the center and right side of my stomach that would shift all the time, and I couldn't even keep my eyes open without feeling sick. It was the day after I returned from the doctors office. I wasn't in high spirits a couple hours when I got back to the residence, and it was up until a few days ago where I was feeling better, and I was close to going to school until I caught a fever that spiked up to 103°F. Obviously Ella wasn't having it, so she forced me home.
A few hours later, that was when the fun really started. Everything I had to eat the past few days came up, and it wasn't a lot I took because of my nausea. It was mainly soda biscuits and dissolvable cookiesâyou know, those really good baby crackers? Yeah, them. Anyway, I was puking everything up; even when there was nothing left to puke up, it was coming. Fluids, water, whatever my body could get up through my esophagus, it seemed.
Needless to say, the vomiting was excessive.
Now I'm on day three of vomiting straight, and I've literally lost all hope in health.
So, yeah, I totally jinxed myself.
Footsteps start treading through the hardwood on my floor, while I currently have my head inside a bucket with my stomachs contents inside.
It's half full of vomit and it was changed late last night and it's now one in the afternoon.
It's gotten to the point where I'm too weak to even get up out of bed to go ten steps to the toilet.
I didn't want to think of it now, but I know that in the back of my head, something is wrong. I don't know what it is, but it's definitely getting my body's attention. It's like I'm working on fumes; I can't even think without having a severe headache.
"Are you okay?" Landon asks. He and Liam have been staying home the past few days to help take care of me. Nobody else apparently wanted to help, but he and Liam have helped the most, and I'm honestly so grateful for them right now.
I pull my head out of the bucket tiredly, and Landon starts running his hand over my greasy, sweaty hair. I'm either cold and clammy or hot like a furnace. I can't control it and it's driven me insane.
He gestures for to eat the crackers in his hand alongside some Ginger Ale.
I shake my head immediately after swallowing them slowly. "No." I shudder. "Something's wrong. I suspected something yesterday, but I took it as being a hypochondriac. Everyone gets the flu; every woman gets her cycle."
"We were thinking it was just the season, but I don't think so." He agrees.
"I shouldn't be this sick," I croak. Everything is weak, even my voice. "It was tossed to. . . something's wrong." I say, forgetting what I was saying and jumping back to what popped into my head when I remember what we're talking about.
"We should take you to the emerge, Brooklyn." He says worriedly. By his tone of voice, it sounds like I don't even have a choice.
I can't argue. I'm too weak and tired to.
"I think I need an ambulance. . ." I trail, crying out when a sharp pain hits my stomach like a ton of bricks.
"Liam!" Landon shouts. "Call an ambulance!" I feel my heartbeat start to quicken, and I start shuddering involuntarily. Landon's hand reaches out to go over my forehead. "Shit, you're a lot hotter than you were an hour ago."
"Thanks," I murmur. "I feel the part."
He chuckles nervously, and stays silent as he comfortingly interlocks our fingers and starts playing with them. I look at him worriedly. "Well, you're hot that way, too." He adds.
I blush through my pale skin, a flutter erupting in my chest, but I can't pay attention to itâI'm scared about what's going to happen in the next few hours. "Are we too late?" I ask.
He stops. "You're going to be okay."
I blink away tears as he didn't answer my question. He continues to sooth me as best he can, and about twenty minutes later, sirens are heard from way down the road.
It's amazing how much sound isn't absorbed out in the middle of nowhere compared to the city. A couple minutes more pass and I hear the noise louder, coming up the driveway, I'm sure.
"I'm going to pick you up and bring you downstairs so it's easier for the paramedics, okay?" Landon explains, and I nod.
I immediately understood why he was explaining things, because, one, I think I'm in a confused state; I don't know, it's confusing. And two, I'm barely clothed in a sports bra and pyjama shorts because I keep having hot and cold flashes.
Landon brings the covers off me and slips his warm arms underneath my weak body. It sends tingles down my spine but his heat doesn't help much given that I am hot as hell right now.
As we walk down the stairs slowly, I pay attention to the windows. I see little people standing outside their houses across the lake wondering what's going on, but that's as much as I can see. I don't focus on them, and instead focus on the lake, thinking and hoping that it can be some kind of directory and tell me what's going to happen next. That maybe it'll explain what's going on with me. Will I live, die, need a new kidney or something.
Watching the sun reflect off the shiny water when we get to the living room is soothing but also sickening at the same time; watching the waves move and crash over one another makes me feel sick again.
"Landon, I need a bucket." I groan out. The paramedics rush inside, and I see a container being held in one of their hands, but they're not quick enough.
What was in my stomach a half hour ago is now splashed across the floor.
Crap.
I'm placed on a stretcher, and they all start talking at the same time it makes my head hurt. I close my eyes, but they're forced open, a light shining through to check my pupils.
However I'm sure they're trying to blind me.
"Brooklyn, sweetie, you need to stay awake for me, okay?" One of the medics say to me as I'm pushed out of the house. It's a man, but that's all I can figure because the sunlight is even more blinding than the house lights.
I distantly smell disinfectant when we're down the deck, and that's how I know that soon enough, I'll be in the place that can surely help me not be in so much pain.
"It hurts!" I scream out when we get to the bottom of the steps.
"What hurts, honey?" The same man asks.
"My side. . ." I sob. "This one." I point to my right.
When the disinfectant gets stronger and so does the smell of latex, I take in note that we're at the ambulance. When I feel the stretcher get placed up into the back, the same medic places something over my mouth and nose, and he starts tracing my stomach.
"Let me know when it gets tender, alright?" He says gently. He starts applying a small pressure to my stomach, starting from the bottom of my rib cage, and when he reaches near my hipbone, I shoot up.
Yep, that's definitely where the pain is at.
"Hey, Holly," he says loudly, assuming to the driver. I feel a hand clasp over mine, and I notice that Landon is in the vehicle as well. He looks nervous and very worried. "I think it's appendicitis."
"You think?" Landon questions. "No, wait. What does that mean?"
Through heavy eyes, I watch the guy paramedic frown at Landon. "How long has she been sick?"
"Ugh. . . she started feeling sick last Tuesday. She spiked a high fever sometime Thursday with bad stomach pains but she just assumed it was her period because she was due. She didn't start vomiting until Saturday night, and she just kept pushing it off saying it was just a bug, but then we started getting worried yesterday when she said that the pain went from the middle of her stomach to her right side."
"Do you know if she's ever had her appendix removed?" He asks.
"No, I don't. I don't really know anything about her past. She's new to our house." Landon explains sadly. "What's going on? Is she okay? Will she be?"
I smile faintly at how he sound so worried, and that someone actually cares.
"We don't know yet. If I'm right, then she may be in extreme danger."
"Is death a possibility?" He gulps.
"Most definitely. She's showing symptoms of appendicitis, and if caught early, then everything will usually be alright without any complications. However, I think that with all the procrastination and the assumptions of menstruating symptoms, I think what she has is more serious and fatal. I think her appendix may have ruptured with the amount of pain she's having."
"And that's deadly, right?"
"Yes. All of the toxins in her appendix could have been released. This is very unsanitary for the body and can lead to infection, which could cause death in the patient. There's plenty of complications with a ruptured appendix, but we won't know yet until she's opened up."
"How long would she be in surgery?"
"That's undeterminable. If it's caught early enough, it could take anywhere from a half hour to an hour if it's only inflamed. But a ruptured one could take hours, depending how much toxins were released. Like I said, sir, we'll only know in surgery. My job is to make sure she's kept alive until we get to the hospital."
Landon looks down at me. "You're going to be okay, Blue. I promise."
"What he said doesn't sound so promising, Landon," I whisper out with a faint chuckle.
"I'm promising you."