Im Sickened But Curious Novels & Stories

The others were all jacked-up college kids who can barely tell their left from their right. My stomach growled angrily, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten. Thing was, I didn’t want to eat. I felt sick, but that was an empty stomach kind of sick, not a ‘Hi, Mommy, I’m in here’ kind of sick. But I was afraid that, if I did eat, the sick will change.

A shiver causes my body to tense and I wrap the comforter around me tighter. It's not even cool in the house, but whatever sickness has invaded my body since lunch has decided I'm an icicle. Or burning. My body can't decide. It's possible my immune system is getting revenge for all those times I pretended to have a summer cold. Turns out being sick in the summer really does suck. At least I always faked that part right. The doorbell chimes for the second time and I groan. I am not leaving my nice warm bed. There must be another person in this house who can answer a damn door.

year, after he spent a week with us, right after New Year's Day, he left, and his letters stopped coming. I don't remember how many weeks or if it was months, but they stopped coming, and my sadness was overwhelming. During that time of my life, I was always sick. Bronchitis, flu, cold, diarrhea, headache—I always felt unwell, and when Scot's letters stopped arriving, I got very sick. Until today, I don't know what that illness was, but my body was covered in blisters, you know, those blisters you get from burns? They were the same, but I hadn't burned myself! Blisters even appeared on the soles of my feet and the palms of my hands. Of course, I wasn't taken to the doctor, and it took over

He suddenly questioned. "What?" she asked puzzled. "Are you sick?" She looked and felt confused. Why was he asking if she was sick? "No." At least, she didn't think so. "Good. I wouldn't want you to infect my nieces and nephew with whatever plague and disease yo have," He stated and turned away like he didn't just hurt her feelings.

"Oh, no. I'm not shutting up. You never get sick. What the hell did you do?" "What does that mean, I don't get sick? I know you think me a monster, A. But I'm actually a human who gets sick, too, okay? Please don't trample on my right to get sick." Seb answers weakly, "Now, shut up and let me rest."

Santino is still away, and without his presence to ground me, I have drifted into a darker place. I wake up early, the sun barely peeking through the heavy curtains. As I try to sit up, a sudden, rolling wave of nausea hits me. I lie back down, closing my eyes tight. My stomach feels like it’s being squeezed by a cold hand. I must be sick, I think to myself. The stress of the funeral, dealing with the aftermath of everything and the hours I’ve spent staring at computer screens must finally be catching up to me. I probably have a stomach bug or a touch of the flu. I tell myself I just need some tea and a few more hours of rest.

Maybe I'm stressed that's why I'm feeling sick. I followed my instincts which seems to pay off a while as I lay back on the bed slowly drifting to sleep. It began. More intense than the last. My rising temperature skyrocketed through the roof. But in spite of the rising heat, I. Am. Horny. I need them right now. Feeling my cheeks get wet, I realize I'm crying. What the hell is happening to me?

He was ever so sweet in contacting me back, telling me he was just walking into the bodega and that he would pick up some things to make me feel better. It was a good possibility, with the time of year, I had picked up some type of bug from either being out at the club or perhaps walking around the different stores I'd visited on our outings. I'd always had a weaker immune system than most people, and with that weaker immune system, I got sick rather easily. Grabbing the remote, I turned on the TV and waited. There was no point in trying to do anything else with my stomach protesting and my head spinning. If it kept up for too long, I was going to have to make sure I saw a doctor.

V. What the fuck am I doing? I'm on my knees, sucking Gabe. How did I get here, and why am I still doing it? I feel like I can't stop. What is wrong with me? The only explanation is I must be sick. Maybe I got skunk flu when I was a skunk. I try to stop, but I physically can't.

Zen looks confused, and I'm beyond confused before realization hits me like a brick. “I’m not sick," I say hurriedly, gesturing with my hands Wilhelm and Hugo turn to me in sheer surprise. Wilhelm looks suspicious “It is not matter for you to have to lie, child— “I may look like this, but I'm perfectly fine,” I shake my head, irrationally pissed “Do you really think a sick person can travel all the way here on her own?” No one says anything. I scowl. “It’s getting colder,” Hugo says with unusual amounts of enthusiasm “How about we head inside?”