Chapter 15: Endure
The next thing I know, I'm outside on the porch, the cool night air brushing against my fevered skin. The moon hangs high above, shining peacefully and bright, almost mocking me with its calmness. I feel faint, the pain gnawing at my sanity, driving me closer to the edge. I try to focus on the world around me, but it all blurs into a haze of agony.
Through the fog of pain, I catch sight of Noelle. He's a flurry of motion, rushing to his garden, dropping to his knees as he digs into the earth. My vision swims, but I can see him pulling something up—an odd-looking root, purple with streaks of blue. He's quick, efficient, and before I can fully process what he's doing, he's rushing past me, back into the house.
In the midst of this torment, a small spark of warmth flickers in my chest. After so many years of being alone, of bearing everything on my own, having someone who worries about me, who cares for me so fiercely, feels...amazing. It's a strange comfort, even as the pain threatens to consume me.
"Bite on this! Eat it now!" Noelle's voice cuts through the haze, urgent and commanding, as he shoves the root into my mouth. The root is wet—he must've rinsed the sand off in his haste. I do as he says, biting down hard. A bitter, sour liquid floods my mouth, the taste overwhelming, but I force myself to swallow. Anything to make this pain stop.
Even through the bitterness, I can't help but feel a deep gratitude. Noelle's frantic care is the only anchor I have in this sea of agony, and though the pain is unbearable, I find a strange solace in knowing that he's here.
"Don't remove it!" Noelle's voice cuts through the haze of pain, urgent and unyielding, as he dashes back into the house. I'm left on the porch, my leg throbbing with a pain that's almost unbearable, the root in my mouth offering little relief. Moments later, Noelle reappears, carrying a lamp in one hand and a glowing red knife in the other. The sight of it sends a cold dread through me, but I'm too drained to react.
"I'm so sorry," Noelle says, his voice filled with regret. Sorry? What for? I barely have time to form the thought before he kneels beside me and rolls up my left pant leg. What I see makes my blood run cold—my leg is a mass of writhing black veins, twisting and pulsing beneath my skin like something alive. The sight is terrifying, but I can't dwell on it for long.
Before I can process what's happening, Noelle drives the red-hot knife into my leg. The pain is indescribable, a searing agony that tears through me with such intensity that I nearly black out. I bite down hard on the bitter root in my mouth, its acrid juices flooding my throat, but even that is a distant sensation compared to the white-hot pain radiating from my leg.