There was an entire drumline performing inside my skull the next morning. Clearly, I hadn’t escaped the LaShoul’s episode. The headache, the tremors, the cold sweats were the same tell-tale signs I’d started experiencing last night in the subway, but I was already worse off than I had been then. But now, my limbs were feeble and felt like they weighed a hundred pounds each, my throat a scratchy ache, and my stomach roiling uneasily. I managed to roll onto my side and reach my fully-charged phone. Through bleary eyes I shot off a message to Leo, though I wasn’t sure how long it would be before he saw it. His work often left him unavailable for long stretches of time until he remembered to eat lunch.


    I needed my meds.


    Through squinting eyes, I searched my room for the orange container. Then my brain connected synapses and I recalled that my bottle was left on the coffee table out in the living room.


    “Fuck.”


    I rolled over, taking my sheets with me, and landed hard on the ground. My hip smarted, but the pounding in my head drowned it out. I crawled, slowly, towards my bedroom door and glared up at it.


    The door locked automatically, the silver plate of the biotech that was registered to me gleaming from high above. From my position sprawled on the floor, I couldn’t reach my hand high enough to reach it to unlock it and push it open. I checked my pockets for my phone, hoping to see that Leo had responded, but came up empty. It sat on my bed and I sat halfway between both it and my meds, if only I could open this door.


    Resigned to my fate, I pushed up into a sitting position and nearly passed out, the room swimming in front to me. There was no more pounding in my skull, but a steady pressure that was going to split my head wide open. My ragged breathing was the only sound as I willed the slowly building nausea away.


    I reached up behind me, blindly and with my back to the door, and started slapping my hand around. When it met the cool, smooth metal and my support gave out behind me, I let out a relieved sob as I tumbled back, barely managing to keep my skull from bouncing off the floor. I was already too close to unconsciousness. I rolled onto my side and heaved myself up onto my elbows to look around the room.


    There. A dozen or so yards in front of me on the coffee table sat my meds. With a mix of army-crawling and inchworm scooting that lasted an eternity, I managed to get myself to the table, knock my meds down with a few wild swipes of my hand, and dry-swallow two of the tiny pills.


    I collapsed back to the ground, my face itching against the rug it lay on. And as tears steadily dripped from my eyes, I finally released my hold and fell into the blessed cold darkness.


    <hr>


    A steady, rhythmic beep was my first companion. The itch on either cheek was the second, and the cold feeling in my fingers and toes came third. It wasn’t long after those sensations began that I pried my tired eyes open. Bright white lights blinded me, and I squinted against them, limbs too heavy to shield my face.


    Slowly, my awareness broadened, taking in the crisp smell of the air, the thin sheet covering my bare legs, the seam of the oversized socks irritatingly off center on my toes. A steady ache still thrummed in my head, but it was only annoying and no longer debilitating. I reached up and scrubbed at my face, aiming to bring some life back in my eyelids, but accidentally dislodged the cannula bringing sweet oxygen to my system. The cheek stickers holding it in place were irritating, and I ripped them off before replacing the cannula and tucking the tubing back behind my ears.


    A glance around the room revealed my hospital go-bag sitting on a chair with a jacket draped over the back. My phone was on the bedside rolling table, charging, along with a bottle of water and a menu.


    Shit. I’d been far gone enough that I’d been admitted to the hospital. I followed the line in the back of my hand up to the fluids bag, seeing that it was the only one left hanging. Any of the other usual meds must have already been administered and the courses completed, meaning that I’d been here and unconscious for at least twelve hours, if not longer. I let my eyes drift closed again and leaned my head back against the too-thin pillow.


    An undistinguishable amount of time later, the curtain surrounding me swept to the side slightly. Perking up at the thought of a nurse who could answer my questions, I was surprised to find Leo standing there instead, staring at me with his hands on his hips.


    “What?” My voice was scratchy from disuse, and I coughed to clear it. It only helped a little. “Why are you looking at me like that?”


    “You scared me half to death,” he said quietly, running a hand through his hair. “I saw your SOS text at lunch, and rushed home to find you passed out on the floor. You were barely breathing, and I…”


    “I’m okay,” I reassured him. I held out my non-IV hand to him in invitation. After a moment’s hesitation, he took it in both of his, warming my cold flesh.


    “I wasn’t sure that you would be,” he whispered. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to my forehead. A kiss. Leo moved away slowly, as if he were afraid that I might disappear at any moment. “The doctors, they…They’re discussing your timeline.”


    I nodded, my lips pressing together into a line. “I figured they would be.”


    Neither of us said anything for several minutes until I tugged on Leo’s hand and demanded that he sit and stop hovering over me like a mother hen.


    He let out a breath as he did, looking down at our joined hands. “I should get you something to eat,” he said finally.


    “I’m not hungry,” I answered honestly, though I was sure that the moment I saw food I’d feel starved. “How…how long was I out for?”


    Leo hesitated, like he didn’t want to tell me. “At least thirty-six hours.”


    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    “Thirty-six?” I gasped. “And what do you mean by ‘at least?’”


    “That’s how long since I found you. I forgot to look at what the time was when you texted me.” He shifted his hips, pulling out his phone to flick through his messages. He grimaced.


    “Probably more like forty hours?” he estimated.


    I huffed and said in a light tone, “That’s not good.”


    “You think?”


    We chatted more after that, me asking questions about Leo’s work and him asking me questions about the support group I went to. I left out the part about the date with Alex; it wasn’t as though I was intentionally keeping it a secret from Leo. It just didn’t seem like the type of detail he would care about.


    And, okay, maybe I wanted to keep that to myself for now. At least until I knew where things were going. Or if they went anywhere. There was no point in bringing up that I went on a date, once, with a guy if in the end it didn’t amount to anything. It was like buying a lottery ticket that won nothing; not something even worth mentioning.


    Leo ordered me dinner, and I finished the under-salted salmon and butter-less vegetables right before the doctor finally came in to check on me.


    “Good evening, Callie,” he greeted, pulling up the rolling stool and taking a seat. “I’m Dr. Stead. I met you yesterday, and Dr. Matlier monitored you last night. So. Let’s just get to it, okay?”


    I nodded, glancing at Leo. He gave me an encouraging smile.


    “Your symptoms as your bio-screen recorded, and according to Mr. Farly here, were pretty atypical of a normal LaShoul’s flare-up. Which, unfortunately, is cause for concern. We reached out to Farly Tech about what we found, to see if they had any other records of a false start like you had a couple nights ago.”


    My ears perked up. This was why I had signed up for the clinical trial in the first place; to, at the very least, help provide more data to help people.


    “They did, in fact,” Dr. Stead continued, “have one other similar incident on record in the relatively short amount of time the trials have been active. Unfortunately, the end result was not what we hoped to hear. There’s no kind way to put this, Callie.” Dr. Stead rolled closer to the bed, placing a hand on my shin. “That individual passed away during their next episode. Now, that’s not to say the same will happen to you; we have very few details to go on. But we need to monitor you more closely from here on out.


    “Your bio-screen monitors so much more than we could. The built-in AI can also run more assessments, search for more triggers, and identify any patterns faster than we would be able to do manually. With your consent, and the permission already granted from Farly Tech, we can easily keep a close watch on you. They also have an invested interest in you, and one of their scientists—or did she say she was an analyst? I don’t remember. But she is waiting to speak to you after I’m finished here, also with your permission.”


    Dr. Stead looked at me with pity in his eyes. I couldn’t say I blamed him. I was a walking time-bomb.


    Slowly, I nodded, deciding that there really was no good reason to deny either request. “That’s fine,” I answered. “Both to you having access to my screen, and to speaking with the woman.”


    He tapped my shin twice before rising. “I think those are wise choices,” he replied like I was a child in need of praise. “We’re going to keep you one more night since you haven’t been awake long, but you should be able to go home tomorrow afternoon if all looks good. Dr. Matlier will be here again tonight if you need anything. But before I go, do you have any questions?”


    I shook my head, thanked him, and stared at my pale nail beds as he left. Leo trailed after him, claiming he’d forgotten to ask a couple of questions. Before he returned, a woman with a tight bun and loose pants walked in carrying a tablet and sat on the stool the doctor had vacated. She reached out a hand to me, giving it a firm shake as she introduced herself.


    “Hi, Callie. I’m Madison. I was told you’ve given the okay for me to ask you some questions? They’ll be recorded through audio.”


    “Yes,” I answered, and before I could take a breath, Madison dove into a series of questions from her tablet that ranged from what I ate the day before the attack to where I had been to what my mental state had been like. I answered as honestly and thoroughly as I could, even including what ice cream flavor I had ordered, though some parts were a bit fuzzy around the edges.


    I kept an eye on the clock on the wall, watching as the minutes slowly crept by. Almost an hour later, Madison finally looked up from where she tapped through the questions to give me a smile.


    “Thank you for your time, Callie. This will provide great information for the company and will help so many others,” she promised. She uncrossed her legs and rose, giving me a final handshake before departing.


    I rolled over, mindful of my IV line that was almost empty. I was exhausted from, well, everything, and ready to be left alone. I grabbed my phone with the intention to mindlessly scroll through some feed or watch a movie, but about a dozen notifications irritated me enough to go through them first.


    Most were from Leo, and as I read through his messages, I could feel his panic rising as I failed to answer him. I was lucky to have him as a friend.


    Another was from my boss, who heard from Leo—who was listed as my emergency contact since my father lived hours away—that I had an episode and was hospitalized. She reminded me of the forms I would have to fill out and the doctor’s note I would need to obtain before going back in to work. It was a double-edged sword; some of the papers were to ensure that I was healthy enough to come back to work, so that if anything happened to me while at work I couldn’t sue them, and other forms were to excuse my absence so it wouldn’t count as a point against me.


    Groaning, I ignored her message. She’d been super understanding and flexible with me when I was hired, but pressure from the higher-ups had her being more of a stickler with everything. And it wasn’t just me; one of my coworkers had gotten a formal write-up when he was late for his shift for the third time, even though I hadn’t minded staying an extra few minutes late. It wasn’t his fault that he was at the mercy of his professors whose classes often ran late.


    The last couple of messages were from Alex, and I peeked over my shoulder to make sure Leo wasn’t coming back before opening the thread.


    Alex: Hey, Callie! What’s your opinion on seafood?


    Alex: While I could say it’s to settle a debate, it’s actually to ask you out on another date.


    My cheeks flamed, and I caught myself grinning down at my phone. I bit my lip, considering how to respond, before deciding to just be honest.


    Me: While I adore seafood, I’m a bit laid up right now.


    His reply was almost instantaneous, and I was impressed how quickly he understood what I meant.


    Alex: You had an episode?


    Me: Unfortunately, yes.


    Alex: How bad?


    Me: They’re going to do extra monitoring of me now.


    Alex: Definitely bad. You home?


    Me: No. Admitted. I woke up mid-attack and got to my meds too late to really make a difference.


    Alex: That sucks. I’m really sorry, Callie. What can I do?


    My heart swelled at his sweet offer. I checked over my shoulder again for Leo before answering.


    Me: Do you have any good movie or book recommendations?


    Alex: Which hospital are you at? I’ll bring you something.


    Me: That’s very kind, but also unnecessary. I’m pretty tired right now, and probably going to just sleep. But I’ll be stuck in bed for a few days once I’m home.


    Alex: Then I’ll work on getting a list for you.


    Alex: And just so you know, this doesn’t get you out of another date with me.


    Me: I replied, didn’t I?


    I set my phone face down on the bedside table, wrestled with the crooked socks on my feet, and went to sleep wondering where Leo had wandered off to.