Samantha
My head felt like itwas going to explode. When I sat up, my head spun, and blood pounded through my ears, sending my world into a tailspin.
“Fuck.” I groaned, my throat felt like I was swallowing razor blades. I didn’t need a doctor to know that I had caught Bow’s flu. I could feel it as my world spun and sent me diving back under the covers for warmth and to get away from the light shining in the room.
“Samantha.” Bow came rushing into the room, full of energy.
I groaned. “Hey Bow.”
“You don’t look good. Daddy!” Bow hollered and I cringed at the high shrill of her voice.
“What is it?”
“Samantha’s sick. Make her better.”
“Ok Bow, go back to your room. You’re still out for the time being. Let me take care of Samantha.”
“Put cartoons on, Daddy,” she ordered, and I would have smiled if it wouldn’t have killed my face to try. “Cartoons make everyone feel better.”
“I’m sure they do. Go on and go to your room. Let me see what I can do for Sam.”
Bow left, taking Badger with her. “You got what Bow had?”
I groaned. “I know. I feel miserable. It’s not fair that kids bounce back like they do.”
“No, it’s not. What do you need?”
“Sleep. I feel like I could sleep for days.”
“First, let’s get some food and medicine in you and then you can sleep. What do you want? I can do eggs and oatmeal.”
“I’m not hungry,” I replied, trying to close my eyes again.
“You need to eat some toast at least. Get something on your stomach so you can take some medicine.”
“Fine,” I mumbled, hoping he would leave me alone, but no such luck. He only left long enough to make me toast and grab me ice water and medicine.
I only took a few bites of the toast, but I guzzled down the cold water, the chill of the ice soothing my sore throat. “Easy. Save some water for the pills, Sweetheart.”
“You’re going to be late for work.”
“I’m not going to work, Sam. You’re sick and Bow’s sick. I’m not leaving you to fend for both of you when you look ready to fall over.”
I nodded. It was probably for the best because as bad as I’m sure I looked, I felt worse. I felt like I had been chewed up and spit out. My body ached, I was shivering, and I could barely keep my eyes open. The toast was dry and hurt as the two bites I took from it slid down my throat.
“I’m so tired.”
“I know. Go back to sleep. Don’t worry about anything, just get some rest.”
He didn’t have to tell me twice. I fell back asleep and only woke up when he came in to check on me and force fluids down my throat. By nightfall, I was sweating, my stomach was cramping, and I felt weak as a noodle.
“Go away,” I groaned when Dax came back the room carrying a tray of food.
“No. You need to eat something.”
“I don’t want to eat,” I grumbled and pulled the blankets back over my head. If this was what dying felt like, I wished like hell it would get on with it because this sucked.
“Come on, Sam. I need to check your temperature.”