Mine By Choice

Chapter 3 — Sleep It Off

Where am I?

God, my head.

I’m laying down. Am I in bed? My bed?

I tried opening my eyes. I barely managed to hold them open for a second. It was light out. Was it the next day?

The last thing I remembered was going over to the northern pasture to check out the fence. My heart skipped a beat.

Emerald green eyes.

Emerald green eyes?

Wolves do not have emerald green eyes.

Did I imagine the whole thing?

I couldn’t for the life of me remember how I had gotten home.

With a deep, resigned sigh, despite the splitting headache, I decided to get up.

Very slowly I lifted my upper body, I had to push up on my arms for extra support. I felt extremely weak. I let my feet fall over the edge of the bed, setting them down on the floor and got up. Tried getting up that is, because the moment I put weight on my feet and attempted to lift my body off the bed, I fell flat on my face with a loud thud.

“What the hell?” I groaned from the floor. Was that my voice? So loud. My head was spinning, and I felt nauseous. “Great. Just f*****g fantastic.” I mumbled to myself.

I stayed down for a little while, in the hopes that the world would stop spinning. Clearly standing up was a bit too ambitious, so I decided to try sitting back up first. I set both my palms on the floor and pushed myself up very slowly. It felt like my head weighed a hundred pounds. I finally managed to sit up and leaned against the bed. I was sweating.

Get it together, Thomas.

After a couple of minutes, once I didn't think I was liable to throw up anymore, I tried to push myself up to sit back on the bed. My whole body was shaking from the effort. It became apparent that I would need some help. I reached for my phone. Seven thirty. Chris was going to love me now. I hoped he was home and not out with Danielle. I tried calling out for him but raising my voice made my head throb.

I grabbed my phone again and decided to call him instead.

My vision was blurry, but he had been my last call, so I managed to touch the screen where I was supposed to. Extremely loud ringing followed.

“The f**k man. Why are you calling me from the next room?” There was a small pause, surely checking the time, “at f*****g seven thirty in the morning! On a Saturday!” He yelled. I could hear him both through the wall and my phone. My ears felt like they were about to explode from the volume of his voice.

“Chris, just come to my room, OK? I need help getting up.” It took a monumental effort to get that out. Something in my tone must have told him I was not joking around. I could hear him setting his phone on his night table. I could hear him pulling the covers off. I heard as he sat up, set his feet on the ground, and stretched his toes on the rug before standing up.

I'm hallucinating.

A few seconds later he opened the door to my room and the creaking of the hinges was so loud that I actually had to cover my ears.

“Whoa! Tom, bro, are you OK?”

Why do people ask inane questions? I am crumpled on the floor with my hands over my ears. No Christopher, I am not OK.

I couldn't form any words. It felt like whatever connection my brain needed to turn thoughts into sound had been severed at the base.

Chris walked over and kneeled in front of me on the floor.

Does he always breathe this loudly?

“Tom? Tom? Can you hear me, bro?” He asked softly, but he might as well have been screaming at the top of his lungs. I nodded in response. It felt like the Earth shook with me just from that small motion.

“I’m going to help you lay back down, OK? Can you tell me what happened? Are you on something?” He asked, real worry in his voice now.

“Water,” I managed to croak.

Chris stampeded to the bathroom, got some water in a glass and came back.

“Here. You’re going to have to sit up a bit to drink, though,” he coaxed gently.

With a lot of effort and Chris’ help, I managed to sit up and lean against the headboard. I took one small sip. Then another.

The water helped. I tried speaking again.

“I don’t know what’s happening. It’s just so much.”

“What’s so much?”

“Everything. It's so much,” I insisted. Light, noise, even him helping me get up felt like my skin was on fire.

“Tom, I’m going to get you some aspirin, after that, I’m calling the doctor,” he told me in a very serious tone, one I hadn’t really heard before.

I focused on my breathing and tried opening my eyes. So many colors. So bright. I quickly shut them again.

Chris got back with the aspirin which I gladly accepted. My head was killing me. It just felt full and heavy.

Chris went out to the hallway to make the call to the doctor. I could hear him like he was right next to me, but I couldn't focus on all the words to make sense of them.

“Hello? Yeah, Dr. Stevens? It’s Christopher, Christopher Pierce?” His voice trailed off.

After a moment my brother came back, phone to his ear and touched my forehead. Come to think of it, I probably did have a fever. I felt warm all over.

“Yeah doc, he is running a temperature,“ he said into the phone.

“Tom? Tom?” I must have dozed off. “Tom, hey stay with me. Did you take anything?” He asked, I could detect slight panic in his voice. I must look really awful.

“I can't get him to answer doc... He’s awake, I just think it hurts to talk.” Smart man Chris.

“To the hospital? Doc, Tom is 6’4” and 200 pounds. He can't even hold his head up right now. If I try to carry him down the stairs on my own we are both going kill ourselves,” he replied, clearly annoyed.

“Can't you come to look him over first? We are right down the road from you... Yeah, I know it's Saturday... I'll come get you then. Be ready in five!” I heard him say, not really understanding what it all meant.

“Lazy fucker,” mumbled Chris under his breath.

“Listen, Tom. Tom? Listen to me: I'm going to go get Dr. Stevens and bring him over, so he can examine you. Don't move, OK? Just stay in bed. We'll be back in ten,” explained Chris in hurried tones. He quickly left my room and headed down the stairs.

Don’t move. I couldn't even if I wanted to. I couldn't even open my eyes.

Am I dying?

Next thing I knew, someone was poking me in the arm.

A needle?

Makes sense that the doctor would want to run some labs.

I stirred in bed. My head was still pounding. Ugh. I was still in my room. So I must not be dying then after all, they would have taken me to the hospital if I was actually dying.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Christopher,” a male voice said from the foot of my bed. “His vitals are completely normal. Blood pressure, heart rate. His pupils are both reactive and symmetrical. Even his temperature is back to normal. For what I can test right now his reflexes are above average, actually,” he added matter-of-factly, like he was ticking mental boxes.

“Okay... but doc, common! Look at him! You can't tell me that he is normal. This is NOT normal!” I heard my brother whisper shout at him.

“Which is why I took some blood to run a full panel. But at this time I have no reason to admit him,” he said apologetically. “He was fine yesterday, yes?”

“Completely fine. He was his usual annoying, smart-ass self,” Chris replied.

“My best guess is that he is having some sort of sensory overload,” explained Dr. Stevens. “His senses are completely overwhelmed. He keeps complaining about the light... Does he suffer from anxiety, chronic fatigue?” He trailed off.

“No... I haven’t been back home that long, but I would definitely know. He has never had any of that,” I heard Chris reply. From the sound of his voice I could tell he was putting some thought behind his answer.

“Or maybe he took something? Does he do any drugs?”

“Tom?” Chris snorted a little too loudly. “Thomas Pierce is as squeaky clean as they come, doc. Give him three tequila shots, and he ends up sleeping under the table,” it sounded like he was attempting not to laugh. Thanks, man.

“Well if he did, it will pop up on the tests. You never know these days,” Dr. Stevens carried on. It sounded like he was writing something down.

“I can't do much more right now, Chris. Just keep a close eye on him. His brain is trying to cope with massive amounts of information right now. Think of it as the hangover from hell,” he explained. What he said made sense, to be honest.

“So keep his room dark, keep the noise down to a minimum. Keep offering him water. Call me again tonight to let me know how he is doing.” His tone was final.

I could clearly hear my baby brother drawing in an irritated breath.

“So basically, you are saying he just has to sleep it off?”

“Once his tests come back, we’ll know more. I gave him something stronger for the pain,” he said while gathering his things. Had he?

Chris was huffing and puffing. Clearly unimpressed.

I heard them both leave my room and head downstairs.

Not two minutes later Chris was back in my room, mumbling under his breath. “Damn small-town, lazy ass quack!” He was trying to be quiet, and failing miserably.

I could hear him shuffle and move around my room, he always got fidgety when he was anxious.

Trying to follow the exchange between my brother and the doctor had taken a lot out of me.

Since the official medical advice was to sleep it off, I decided I might as well take it.

*******

Lovelies,

'Mine By Choice' first saw the light of day on this platform a year ago. It has been my absolute joy to share my work with you here and to have the privilege of your feedback. You have supported me and helped me grow.

I have decided to take on a new challenge with my writing. In order to do so, I will be removing 'Mine By Choice' from here on Sunday, April 3rd 2022.

The book will be published on A.ma.zon under the same name and will be available as a paperback also. You can find all the information on the F B Group 'Infinity Wolves', or via my social media.

Thank you again for the gift of your time.

Happy reading!



(Added by the author on March 28th, 2022)