Forever Jaded - Chapter 4

Those next two weeks, the Salivor family flinched everytime someone knocked at the door, everytime they saw a soldier pass by the house. They feared the day they would get word that R.J. was dead. Richard tried hard not to think about it, but it was hard; the fear was constantly with him, taunting him, gnawing at the back of his mind. He couldn't escape it; it only followed. Most days he would stay up in his room, gazing up at the ceiling and listening to the wind as it blew and rocked the house, growing colder and colder as Autumn set in. He only left his room when he went out to sit by the tree, his favored tree, to watch the clouds pass by or to watch the setting of the sun. The only other time he would leave his room was to relieve himself and eat when his mother called him down. His heart was constantly full of worry, and he mentally cursed himself for always having these terrible doubts filling his head. He had to believe in his brother; he had to. His friends had stopped by a few times, but he had never been up to talking, too trapped in his thoughts to even pull his gaze from the ceiling, or from the window should he be gazing out of that instead. He knew his parents were growing worried about him; he could feel it in the air when they were around him, he could see it in their eyes, could hear it in their voice. He felt guilty for it, but he couldn't help, and he found himself distancing himself. He tried to smile and act like everything was fine, but he couldn't. His brother was gone, and he could be gone for good. Though R.J. was five years older than him, they had always shared a special bond, and to have a gaping space where that bond used to be...it hurt. It cut him to the core, and he found he couldn't lift his spirits. He was constantly brooding over his brother's well-being, always wondering if he was okay or even still alive. Always when these negative thoughts popped into his head, he would sigh and shake them out, forcing himself to see an image of his brother, happy and perfectly fine. But he knew that it wasn't really his brother; R.J. could be cold and alone and dying or dead, and he wouldn't know, not until they got a letter, explaining his death in few details. Richard clenched his eyes tightly closed. 'Okay that's enough,' he thought to himself. He slowly sat up on his bed, feeling light headed. Frowning, he blinked his eyes a few times, but his vision remained blurred. 'What's wrong with me?' he silently asked himself, rising to his feet. He swayed and collapsed back onto the bed. He closed his eyes, his heart beating rapidly. He got chills and suddenly didn't feel so good. He put his hand out in front of his eyes, but his hand shook and seemed to spin around as his vision continued to blur.

"Mom..." he whispered as loudly as he could. "Mom please...something's wrong with me...Mom I don't feel good..." he swallowed thickly and rose to his feet once more. He had to concentrate on standing, and then on placing one foot in front of the other to make it to his door. He slumped against the door as his hands, cold and clamy, grasped the doorknob. The doorknob was icy to the touch, and the floor beneath his feet seemed to freeze him. He shivered, wondering why his room was so cold suddenly. Or maybe that was just him. He pushed himself off of the door and pried it open, stumbling out into the hall, stumbling into the farwall and leaning against it, his breaths heavy. 'What's wrong with me?' he thought. 'I was fine when I woke up...' he let out a low moan beneath his breath as he slid down the wall, his legs giving way. "Mom...Dad..." he whispered, his eyes seemingly on fire, for they burned beneath his eyelids as they closed tightly.

For a while he faded in and out of consciousness, his mind drifting here and there. He heard a scream, and slowly pried his eyes open. His mother bent down next to him, holding his head up. "Richard? Baby, can you hear me?" she whispered, and he could hear the fear in her voice. He tried to respond, but his voice wouldn't work. Instead, he swallowed and moaned briefly, his eyes closing again. "Harold, get up here!" she called down. "Baby, come on," she whispered, touching his face, holding him gently. "Can you hear me? Harold!"

He heard his father's footsteps and felt a wight drop down next to him. "What's wrong with him?" his father's deep voice asked. "Richard?" a strong but shaky hand gripped his shoulder. "Jesus, he's freezing!"

"Feel his head," his mother said. "He's burning up!" he felt the rough skin of his father's hand brush over his forehead, which was covered in sweat as he panted, moaning quietly. His mother's gentle arms wrapped around his body, and he felt him press against here. Her body was warm. He snuggled against it, liek he used to do when he was a little kid and had had a terrible dream. "Harold, go get someone."

"Who?" asked his father. "It's dinner time, Karen, no one will be out."

"I don't care," his mother snapped. "Get someone; he needs help! And when my baby needs help, you damn well better get it!"

He heard his father sigh. "Okay, okay, I'm going, just...help him until I get back." he heard his father's heavy footsteps descend down the stairs, and then he heard the front door open and close. He shivered, and his mother pulled him closer to her.

"Shh," she whispered, lifting him in her arms. He was twelve, but he was small for his age and underweight. She could still carry him, and carry him she did, back into his room. She placed him on his bed, and pulled the covers up around his neck, tucking them under him. "Richard, honey?" she asked in a quiet whisper, rubbing the back of her hand against his burning, rosy cheek. "Can you hear me, baby?"

"...Mom..." he whispered, tears in his eyes. "I don't...I d...don't feel good..."

She brushed his bangs back, away from his flaming forehead. "I know, baby, I know...but you'll be okay. Your father went to get help; he'll be back any minute."

He tried to nod, but didn't feel up to it. So instead, he opened his eyes and gazed up at her. Her form was blurred, but he knew it was her. "Mom..."

"Shh, honey, don't speak. Save your strength," she murmured, and he could somehow feel her loving gaze.

Richard tried to stay awake a little longer, but he felt himself slipping into the darkness. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he slipped away into unconsciousness.