Owen
I don't feel so good.
In all the books I have read, I came to the conclusion that I am destined to be hated upon.
It had almost been a week since I saw Athena early in the morning and after that, I came to the realization that I needed to do something. For myself, I mean.
I'm glad I contacted Barb, my physical therapist from home and asked her if she could connect with Sophie, my current one here at university. I have something drastic in mind and though I may not admit it out loud, I am beyond terrified of it.
So I called her.
"Owen, honey, are you sure you want to try this out? You and I both know you aren't the sporty type of person. Do you really want this?" Barb asked, her voice full of hesitation over on the line.
"Yes, Barb. I'm sure." I replied, nodding my head a bit as I adjusted my phone over my ear.
Barb audibly sighed and muttered a bit to herself, and for a moment, I was unsure whether she would gladly help.
Any member of my family is a no-go when it comes to resolving personal problems. They're loud. Really. If I ask them for help, they would question my decisions and tell me off. My siblings enjoy tormenting each other with secrets we've accidentally shared as a form of blackmail, and my parents are, well, parents. I've kept so many things from them out of fear and judgement and as a result, I think I traumatize myself mentally.
I'm in my head too much.
Barb is the next parental figure I have, and one of the only people I don't hesitate to ask for help.
After a long pause, I heard Barb's end of the line crackle and heard some shuffling.
"If that's what you want, then I guess I can find something for you that you'd like." she answered.
Barb helped me look for activities I can do around the area. She knows my physical capabilities more than anyone, even Sophie. She knows what I liked to do and what I absolutely hated. I'm even a little embarrassed she saw me fail and fall face first on the ground multiple times growing up during our sessions.
Later during the week, Barb told me that she got to talk to Sophie and the both of them coordinated and listed things I could do. Ones that would not be much too tasking given that I still have school and a personal life to attend to, that is.
In the end, I listed myself up for one sport.
Tennis.
But almost immediately after, I got sick.
I am definitely not meant for sports.
The first few minutes of trying it out, my breathing was rasp and quick, and my chest started to hurt. It was like my whole body was on fire, and I didn't like how the racket always slipped from my grasp because of how shaky and sweaty my palms were.
I felt so fatigued after doing sports again for the first time in years, I was guessing it started the fever. Or was it a flu? I'm not really sure.
It was horrible.
If the world hates me for some reason completely unknown to me, they could just say it. There's no need to let me go through all of this after things happened.
My head kept throbbing like someone was knocking on it, and I felt sick in my stomach. The whole thing made me dizzy and I felt myself zone in and out whenever I forced myself to go to class.
It was hard to skip a day.
In the end, I ended up feeling chills and had to stop myself from succumbing to random pains in my arms from trying out tennis. My head seemed like a boulder balancing on thin ice and I could not want anything in the world aside from wanting it all to go back to normal. It throbs now.
"You okay?" I heard Fitz tell me as I had a hand on my forehead, brushing up my hair a little bit from the headache.
We were in the lunch hall now, eating. Well, Fitz is. I stared at my food miserably as I didn't even have the strength to even quiver, or look in any direction. Even my eyes were tired as they seemed to be permanently fixed onto my untouched plate of pasta.
"I don't know." I heard myself tell him.
Even speaking was a hassle as it required so much energy that I barely even have. Should I have stayed in and rested? Take on the responsibility of catching up for one week's worth of schoolwork?
Fitz shot me a concerned look.
I may not come up to terms with it, but I am so tired of everyone being concerned or worried about me. Why won't everyone just let me sulk and rot here in peace, damn it.
"Bro, listen. You look bad. Seriously. Get some rest. Jesus." Fitz said as he shook his head and popped a fry into his mouth, his eyes going up and down at me, taking in all the details.
My hair had been a literal nest from all the times I've rested my head onto desks during class, and my shirt even had small stains of cough syrup that spilled as I shakily tried to pour some onto a plastic spoon I found in my drawer.
Physically, I look like a corpse who had been forced to rise. I am too pale, and my nose had been quite runny and red for the past few days. My eyebags grew darker, and I slowly felt myself turn into a Tim Burton character.
The only thing I could muster now was a scowl.
"I don't want to." I said, but it was not too soon before I felt the heaviness of my head give in and felt it descend. I was starting to get woozy, and Fitz had to my head from hitting the table by grabbing me by the shoulder, pulling me upwards slightly.
Fuck, I think I need to vomit.
My focus had been entirely devoted to keeping my mouth shut, and I blankly stared again at my food plate to conceal it.
"Look, this is not the time to not listen. You look terrible. You can barely push yourself." he noted.
With all my remaining might, I shot him a glare and kept myself from throwing up.
"I need to." I said, before I eventually felt something rise inside me; most likely the breakfast I barely stuffed down.
I immediately put a hand over my mouth and leaned into the table, my other hand on my stomach.
Fucking shit.
I don't like where this is going.
"Holy shit, don't tell me you need to throw up." Fitz said, as he pushed his chair backwards and stood up beside me, his palms facing up as if he were to catch something.
God, my stomach feels horrible, I stifled a nod as I leaned lower, and now had my throbbing head resting on the cold surface of the table in front of me.
"I'll take you to the toilets. You can handle yourself from there, right?" he asked, sounding a little scared.
I nodded again.
My head was throbbing, vomit was already too high up my system, and I felt chills. I eventually found myself shaking a little. I wanted to close my eyes and rest, but I remember I have a class to get to in a couple minutes. Fitz was lucky he doesn't have classes until before I finish my second one in the afternoon. Athena had a similar schedule as well.
"Okay, cool. You want me to push you, or do you want to do it yourself?" he asked, leaning down a little.
I didn't have the strength to answer him. I couldn't even nod.
I felt so terrible, it was as if all the symptoms rained down on me, like cats and dogs on an awfully rainy day.
My head felt like it would give in and pop off any minute from how heavy it felt, balancing on top of my shoulders. My nose was stuffed and I couldn't breathe right. I was shaking and I don't think I could stop.
"Fine. I'll do the honors. Just, don't puke on me." I heard Fitz say as he slowly went up behind me and for a second, he seemed as if he was clueless. He didn't know what to do.
I kept my head down and slowly withdrew my head from the table. I just looked down on my lap and closed my eyes instead.
"The handles are gone. New chair? Sorry, all of them look the same to me. I'll just grab onto this, bar thing behind it and hope I don't run you into a wall." He said, half-joking.
Please just run me into a wall.
With my eyes closed, I felt my chair being pulled back by someone, hopefully, Fitz. It was not soon before we smoothly exited the lunch hall and were down by the hallway toward the preferably, cleanest bathroom there is.
After a few minutes, we later stopped and I felt the uneven tiles of the floor go a bit slippery, signaling that we were indeed, in one of the toilets.
"We're here. Go. Puke." I heard Fitz tell me as he let go of my chair and opened the cubicle door that led to the wheelchair accessible one. Thank God he knows.
I raised my head a little and nodded in thanks, and slowly but tiredly pushed myself in.
My head is still a pain I have yet to bear, and I am a little grateful that I could finally empty what I had been concealing inside me, down into the drain.
Locking the door behind me, I immediately pulled the brakes of my chair in front of the toilet and bent down, with my hands on my knees, and started to throw up.
I coughed out and spat what had been the small amount of breakfast I had into the middle of the toilet, and I felt I still had some more to empty out of my system. My mouth tasted sour, and it stung the corners of my mouth like that one taste of sour candy you can't get rid off.
I slipped out of my chair and went down onto the floor. It was easier to throw up there than while sitting down. I don't want to ruin my pants. I haven't brought them to the cleaners yet, or to a nearby wash area.
And so I continued throwing up from down there. It was disgusting, nasty, and awful. I eventually reached my hand up to get some tissue paper and ripped one out. I wiped my mouth clean with it and stared at what I had just thrown up.
I shuddered and flushed it down in an instant.
After a few moments after flushing down the demonic spawn I had just conceived, the door to the cubicle knocked and I slowly turned my head towards its direction.
"You okay in there?" Fitz said, his voice subtly echoing from the acoustics of the rest room. I was guessing no one else was there aside from us.
"I think." I barely answered out loud.
God, my mouth still tastes funny.
I was still on the floor; cold and dripping with sweat. It was hot in there and I was guessing I had to have a change of clothes if I choose to go to class. I still have time.
I unlocked the door and saw Fitz standing there, looking at me weirdly. I still haven't gotten back up on my chair.
I looked back at him, cocked my head to the side a bit, and smiled a little.
"Help me up?" I asked.
This was one of the firsts. I rarely ask people for help, but this time, I won't push myself over my boundaries. My head was still a pain and the chills lingered. My nose felt runny too, and I took a handkerchief from my pocket and swiped it over my nose before snot runs down.
Asking for help wouldn't hurt me, would it?
I'm tired of playing the strong character. I don't have any reason to refuse help, let alone ask for it. Asking for help does not make me less of who I already am, and if it does, then fuck it. I don't care.
Thankfully, Fitz smiled a little, his shoulders relaxing.
"I never thought I'd live to see the day you asked." he said, grinning as he slowly took my chair out of the cubicle and put it somewhere with bigger space. He later bent down and scooped me up, one of my arms slung around his neck as he slowly placed me back in my chair.
"Thanks." I said as I slowly pushed my chair towards one of the sinks and gargled some water in my mouth to get rid of the unusual sting of sourness left inside.
Fitz waited for me to finish, and I was beyond grateful for that. After we went out, my headache was still terrible and I decided to sleep it off by ditching class. Hopefully, an excuse letter would suffice.
On the way out, I was still feeling extremely tired, and I pushed myself slowly, going back to my room. It was weird how when I finally raised my head, Athena had just walked by, staring down at me.
I was stopped in my tracks, and I looked at her too. We didn't have time to talk though. She walked past with her laptop and bag and she had her cat headphones on too, probably listening to music.
After she turned around the next hallway, I shook my head and continued pushing myself to my dorm, to ultimately try to get better.
I didn't have any medicine on me aside from cough syrup. I frequently got sick and experienced flus and colds in the past and had used them up. I couldn't bring myself to even go down the pharmacy. It was in an inaccessible building, and I had to get someone up there to buy some.
I sighed. I still felt terrible, even after puking. As soon as I got around to my dorm room, I immediately changed into something comfortable and almost threw myself down under the covers of my bed.
It was cold, and I felt chilly. Slowly, I let my eyes drift off to sleep. I need this if I don't have anything to immediately wear off how sick I feel. My head throbbed painfully and I shut my eyes harder to at least lessen how painful it was.
God forbid me to attempt sports again if this is what happens after.
I woke up after a few hours, and I didn't feel even the slightest shift of change in how I was feeling. I touched my forehead, then my neck, until I realized I was still hot from the fever and flu I probably have.
Every part of my body ached upon waking up.
As I adjusted my eyes to my surroundings, something unfamiliar was right by the door.
A small plastic bin filled with all kinds of medicine plus some biscuits and a bottle of water.
I smiled a bit, and tried to get myself up from bed.
I had two hunches on who might have sent it, but I was extremely grateful for whoever one of them did.