The Bitten.

Fever.

I awake with instinctual suspicion. I'm unaware of how long I had been out, but my body aches. I need to stretch. I unfurl from my blanket cocoon and stretch my sore limbs. My bones crack and pop as I straighten myself beside the bed. My muscles are still sore, but I blame it on all the running and craziness of yesterday...or today?

Curiosity gets the better of me and I go to synoptic the window. It's either sunset or sunrise, judging by the lighting. I can see practically nothing of the sky due to the window's awning. After inspecting the room and bathroom, I turn to my phone to confirm that it is sunset. I hadn't slept as I had thought.

My stomach churns violently, sending me in a spiral for the toilet. I catch myself before I fall headfirst into the bowl. I beg about ten Gods for mercy before my wrenching and heaving finally stops. I'm pouring a sweat, and too weak to care that my forehead is resting on the seat. I survived worse, surely no germ here could hurt me now. I can wash my face in a second, I just need to catch my breath first.

I brace myself on the wall to stand. My legs are shaking, but I don't feel puny as I stand. I feel like my feet are planted like roots to the ground, but maybe they belong to someone else. Like balancing on heavy weighted stilts. I stop by the mirror to examine myself. I'm fine. Just flushed. Outside of a few nearly healed scrapes, my arm and the large abrasion across the center of my breast, I look ok. That damn kid is just in my head. I'm fine. I will be fine. I just need to let it all go for a few hours. Eat. Rest. Watch some mindless TV full of fluff that requires nothing on my brain's part.

Nibbling on a sleeve of cookies, I watch cartoons while sprawled across the bed. I can no longer take the heat of the blanket, so I judge it away with my foot to the very edge. It's not long until the sleeve of cookies is finished, and mystomzch lurches again. And the body aches start again. More intense this time.

The agony is so extreme it blocks out all other trains of thought, forcing me to wallow in self pity. Its like a flu and my worst migraine ever. Even my face hurts. I can't tolerate the sound of my own pulse, or the blood throbbing in my veins. It sounds like a personal marching band parading through my brain.

I grab for the blanket and roll back up, or to find to too restrictive an hair later. I should call my mom. That would make me feel better. I'd do anything anything to getvan ounce of relief. Comfort food. I could eat. Maybe I'm just ravenous from puking so hard earlier. And the body has odd ways of healing itself. I'm just thirsty, or hungry perhaps.

I almost crawl to the little fridge and stick my head inside. I stay like this, enjoying the cool sensation on my face until I begin to feel stupid. I'm alone, with nobody to judge me here, but I feel like a loon. I decide to grab a fistful of packages out to sort through. I weed through them, tossing the undesirable items back into the fridge until I'm left with nothing but meats.

I can cook something more substantial. That could be what I need. I have taken poor care of myself since all this happened, and I had promised myself steak. Fumbling in the little cabinet space I dig out a complementary skillet. It's worn, chipped, and typically I'd cringe, but I don't care about sanitation I'm this little hotel. Only food, rest, and remaining undisturbed.

I scoot a light chair from the side desk to the stove to rest my feet while I start my food. I turn up the temperature and after a second I become impatient once more and decide a rarer steak than normal will suffice. I don't even cut it, not wanting to really see the bloody center. I devour the steak that's only slightly warm on the outside edges, and still it doesn't fill me.

The cramps continue as soon as the food is gone, and I decide to indulge myself with the remaining meats in the fridge. Without realizing it, I had eaten days worth of food in a single sitting. And still, I was hungry. I shouldn't eat more, it's very likely I could get sick again, but I can't keep my mind off food. Food snd my aches. The wolf man and all that ruckus now feels like a distant memory. It feels minimal and unimportant in the midst of whatever my body is doing.