I CAN'T STOP coughing.
I sat in my bedroom, huddled over in a corner and curled up with myself, holding a hand to my chest as large raspy gasps exited my lips.
I wasn't sure what happened, but when I woke up from sleeping, I suddenly felt all tense and weak and started coughing.
I have asthma but I don't have my inhaler.
I coughed again, lurching forward and covering my mouth.
A big man that I didn't really know... sat beside me. He wasn't as monstrous and scary as the other man I was with earlier.
The man I was with earlier was big and freaky, but he was nice to me a lot (I decided to call him Cookie because he made the best cookies).
And—right now—Cookie's friend sat with me, gently rubbing my back to help me calm down.
It was scary. Asthma attacks always made me feel helpless and shaky, like I couldn't control my own automatic responses.
It was a curse.
For the fifth time, the man next to me dialed Cookie again.
But this time, Cookie picked up!
"What?" Cookie said on the other line. "This is the fifth fucking time."
"Something's wrong," the man next to me said. "She's sick."
"Sick?" Cookie questioned on the other line. "Malato come?"
(Sick how?)
"Non smetterà di tossire. Sta ansimando," the man beside me replied.
(She won't stop coughing. She's wheezing.)
"Fanculo," Cookie replied angrily.
(Fuck.)
I just coughed again, covering my mouth as another helpless wheeze squeezed through my lips.
"I'm coming," Cookie stated then.
The mystery man just set the phone down and continued rubbing my back. "He'll be here soon, Angel. Just a little longer."
I tried to reply, but only ended up coughing again, my throat ripping to shreds at the action.
"Do you need a blanket?" he asked me. "Are you breathing?"
But seconds later, Cookie stepped in the room, rushing over to me and kneeling before me.
I coughed again, tipping my head back as allergy tears slipped down my cheeks.
"Here, baby girl," Cookie whispered. "Give me your hand."
He lightly caught my wrist and slipped his grip down to my index finger, and then something stiff clamped down onto it.
I whimpered, gazing down nervously.
It was an odd block-thing... but I couldn't see straight to determine what the hell it was.
Cookie's eyes were trained on some odd light it was developing, his sight scanning and determined.
Once his brows drew together, I knew something concerned him.
He then gazed over at the mystery man. "Her blood oxygen's at eighty-nine. She's not breathing fully."
I coughed again, whimpering as I tipped my head back.
Cookie then gazed down at me, his eyes glowing in concern. "Angel. Speak to me. Do you know what's happening? Are you sick? Allergic to something?"
I just let my chest rise and fall slowly before I wiped tears away. "Asthma."
His eyes immediately flickered something dark in them, and he shot his gaze over to the mystery man. "Sammy has an inhaler. Go."
The mystery man just got up and shot out of the room.
Cookie lifted me in his arms and pulled me into his lap, gently rubbing my arm up and down to soothe me.
I coughed again, a wheeze slipping past my lips.
"Shhh..." he soothed, rubbing my arm still, "just a little longer, Angel."
I curled up in his grip, trying so hard to breathe but it was like there was a clamp in my chest.
He cradled me against him, guiding my head to his shoulder as he wrapped his blazer around me.
He was so big... his jacket dwarfed me.
"Shhhh, good girl," he breathed, brushing his hand along my arm to soothe me. "Deep breaths. Nice and slow."
I just closed my eyes and let myself rest in his grip, and he ran his hand over my head, trying to get me to remain calm.
I sniffled, snuggling closer.
And then the mystery man came back into the room, dropping on his knees beside us and handing Cookie another block.
Cookie guided me up a little, my head on his shoulder, and he continued cradling me as he pressed the inhaler to my lips.
"Open," he said gently.
I parted my mouth, letting him slip the mouth-piece in.
"Let out a breath," he said, clearly knowing I was too disoriented to do it myself, "and then when I count to three, inhale sharply."
I huffed out a breath, the sound so weak and frilly.
"One," he said, "two, three."
I inhaled as sharply as I could, and he pressed down onto the button, the medicine shooting into my lungs.
I nearly lurched forward, but he just pressed his lips to my forehead. "Hold your breath."
I listened, my brows creasing as I tried my best to keep the medicine in my lungs.
"Release," he said gently.
I let out a breath, coughing immediately as the medicine filled me to my core.
The buzz went through my veins, feeling like unnerving tingles and uneasiness.
I was dizzy... really dizzy.
"One more time," Cookie said then, pressing it to my lips. "Let out a breath."
I huffed out a breath, my brows creasing.
"One, two, three."
I inhaled sharply, and he shot another dose of meds into my lungs.
I held my breath this time, puffing my cheeks to keep it in better.
"Good girl," he praised. "Hold it a little longer, okay?"
Another couple seconds passed before he spoke again:
"Release."
I let out a harsh cough then, the sound of the wheeze now ceasing.
I caught my breath then, gasping desperately for air.
My body rattled now, the medicine making me feel like I just drank a shot of adrenaline.
Cookie just gazed up at his friend. "Farmaci per l'ansia."
(Anxiety meds.)
He handed Cookie a small bottle, and Cookie then looked down at me.
His smile was gentle, but I was too overwhelmed with the fact that I could breathe to be concerned right now.
"Here's your pill," he whispered gently. "Take it for me, okay?"
I set my head against his chest, opening my mouth.
He saved me... that's what friends did. Cookie was my friend.
He then slipped a small pill onto my tongue, and I whimpered at the gross taste.
"Swallow," he told me.
I did, and the pill was small enough for me to swallow without water.
Cookie sat with me in his lap, gently massaging my shoulder. "Wait for a couple minutes, alright? You should feel better."
He gave me the meds whenever my body trembled (when I was scared, too)... and it always made me feel better.
It took five minutes, but I then felt drowsy again, my world fading in and out endlessly and covering me in a daze.
My head dropped back, and Cookie just let me rest it on his shoulder before scooping me up.
"I'll take her to my office," he said to the mystery man. "And I'll keep an eye on her."
"Yes, sir."
And we walked out from the room.
My head fell off his shoulder, my lashes fluttering as the fluttery feeling swarmed my head. "I—can't—t—thi—think."
"It's alright, Angel," he promised gently. "I'll take care of you."
➿⭐︎➿⭐︎➿
CAMERON HAD FALLEN asleep almost instantly after I carried her.
I made it to my office shortly after she fell asleep and I set her down onto the couch in the middle of the room.
She groaned softly, shifting.
I just smiled and pulled the blazer back over her, tucking it under her legs so she was more comfortable.
She was so short... it was adorable. The blazer dwarfed her.
After a moment, I knelt beside the couch and ran my thumb along her forehead, drying some tears that somehow slipped up there.
She was sound asleep now, and I made sure to listen closely to her breathing to decipher if she was alright now.
She sounded fine... and if not fine, definitely better.
But I still pulled out the small oxygen monitor I had stored in my pocket (it was from our frat's aid kit), and I slipped it over her index finger that gently popped out from the blazer.
She moaned sleepily, shifting.
"Shhh..." I cooed, setting my hand on her head to calm her. "You're alright."
I then gazed down at the monitor, reading it carefully.
It kept reading for a moment too long before it flashed "97%".
"Good," I whispered, relief washing through me as I pulled it back.
I then set the oxygen monitor side and then looked down at her, deciding now to admire her.
Her lashes gently brushed her cheeks as she slept... the colors so black like spider legs, but with a delicacy to them.
They cast soft shadows down her cheeks, her pale skin... and left her lips looking almost baby pink... such a contrast.
Her previous black dress covered her down to her mid-thigh, the clothing scattered with grey butterflies. But now her form was draped over with my black blazer, shielding her entire body from me and making her look even smaller than she was.
Everything about her, black and white... all apart from her soft pink lips.
I just ran my fingers along her forehead again, watching her shift.
"You're so beautiful," I said gently, smile forming.
She moaned sleepily again, her fingers twitching.
I just slipped my hand into hers, my eyes softening.
Even her hands... all calloused and bruised, they were so soft in my grip. Like the fur on a teddy bear.
I had to thread my fingers through hers, admiring how delicate her bones were... how gentle her skin was. And then I found myself growing enraged at the fact that someone would try to damage it.
The bruises were fading to a gentle black, blending with her pale skin, but... it still hurt me to look at them.
I just gently slipped her hand into mine, a different position, and set my thumb along the tops of her fingers.
"It's alright," I whispered gently, running my fingers along her to soothe her. "He can't hurt you anymore...
"You're mine now."
Word Count: 1690
a/n
I am so tired. It's like ten pm and I can't sleep. Like seriously.
Anyways, I hope you enjoy, merry... Sunday.
PEACE
- Aspen
17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNxeXFjOjcR
