Infection

Timothy dreamed in silence, sleeping on the floor and muttering words for himself. "Fire Fist..." He whistled and snored until footsteps started coming up the steps, picking up the pace at every movement.

Aurora entered the room and noticed that everyone but Timothy had already woken up. "He sleeps like a log," She told herself, reaching behind her ears, "Hey, Tim. It's 10 'o clock in the morning. It's time to wake up." Timothy didn't react and scratched the back of his buttcheek. "Ralphie... those are delicious..." His voice yawned while Aurora reached on her hip.

"Who would've thought the one on the floor would sleep the longest? He's an odd species." She stepped closer to him, crouched, and reached for the top of his shoulder, "Heey, sleepy head. Time to wake up! It's me, Aurora."

Once again he didn't react and only muttered.

"What in the Holy Light's going on?" She raised her voice, "Hey, Tim! Wake up!" All she achieved was him turning on his hip away from her. "Aw, come on..." She looked toward the shut window, stood up, and walked to its front. "Fine then... Let's bring the chills."

She opened the window wide and let the cold wind and snow blow inside the attic. It made her hair and clothes waver from the breeze, "Oooh, cold..." She claimed, shrugging because of it.

The wind swirled under Timothy's blanket and danced its way beneath his clothes, scraping his skin.

His body jolted from the cold.

He screamed, leaped to his feet, and hugged himself, "What's happening?! Why did it get so cold all of a sudden?!" He rapidly shook from the chills and then exchanged looks with her unimpressed stare.

She leaned her back on the wall, folding her arms, and blinked with her eyes. "Good... That got you right up, huh? It's seven minutes past 10 'o clock. Everyone must have already eaten. You should go downstairs and do the same. I prepared breakfast just for you."

Timothy looked at her, puzzled. "You didn't need to wake me up with a cold. What if I get sick?" He inquired, worried and upset as he couldn't sleep much longer.

"I'm sure you'll be fine. Dress up and meet me downstairs. And close the window, please." She passed him by and walked down the stairs, Timothy's eyes following her every step.

He took a long and deep sigh, stepped toward the window, and prepared to shut it, "You opened it. Why should I be the one to close it?" He grasped the window's handle and closed it.

When he did, he noticed a notebook on the end table, sleeping next to the night lamp.

He observed it for a few seconds, deciding if he should sneak a glance.

He picked it up and read the title, "Kate's Notes."

He glimpsed behind him to see if Aurora observed him but confirmed she did not. He flipped the page, and the first thing he got greeted with was a letter with a picture of Aurora, her father, and her mother, who had her head blurred.

He carefully dragged out the picture, placed it on the table, and read the paper.

"I lied, and I'm sorry, uncle. But my mother's illness isn't natural. When I was six years old..."

~ Aurora observed her parents' room. She saw their shadows in the bright light and heard their argument. Her father, Floe, yelled at her mother, Crystal, "How many times have I told you to stop keeping our daughter inside her room! She needs a doctor!"

His voice intimidated Aurora, "Oh, shut it, you old hag! If she didn't spend all her time with those stupid animals, then she wouldn't need to deal with the infection! I'm not going to let her out into nature! She's safer inside." She complained, "Her infection isn't curable! Why should I send her to a doctor?"

Her mother's voice sounded cracky and stuttery, "It doesn't matter! She needs to visit a doctor! I'm sure they'll find a cure to heal her illness!" But her mother didn't care and grabbed a bottle of whiskey, "Besides... I don't care. I don't need a daughter who can't even think straight! I should've just tossed her out into the street! That way, I wouldn't need to bear her infection! She's the reason why I got sick!" She gobbled down the whiskey, and suddenly Aurora became scared.

She noticed her father knock the bottle out of her mother's hands for the glass to scatter on the floor and soak the carpet. "What the hell's your problem, you psychopath!" She screamed, complaining, "I'm a psychopath?! You're the one worrying about yourself, and don't give your own daughter the attention she needs! She'll never make friends If you keep her locked inside her room while I'm at work. All you do is care about yourself! You're her only mother! You birthed her!" Her father shouted.

"Maybe I shouldn't have! To think I would have such a hopeless kid with somebody like you! I don't need her illness to endanger my life too! She can die, drown or burn for all I care! I might actually care about her if she actually had some hope in life! But no, all she does is play with her dirty mutt and snap those photos!" Her mother leaned her palm on her chest in frustration.

"Y-You! What is your problem?! You're insane! Y-You drunkard! Tomorrow, I'm leaving, and I'm taking my daughter with me! Once her infection slows down, then maybe I can find her a school! And you can rot inside this cabin! But you're never seeing your daughter again!" Her father shouted, but his wife cared not. She grabbed another bottle of whiskey and lay on the bed.

Aurora cried in silence, observing their argument. ~

"... My mother got sick because of my infection. And after I left my mother the next day with my father, he took me to the doctor. My condition improved thanks to him, but I didn't suffer without a loss; he passed away three years later because of me. Ever since then, I've been taking care of myself. Then, two years later, my mother passed away. You're the only person I have left in my life, and I hope I'll give you this letter soon. So, if you're reading this, please understand that my condition still isn't stable. But if you don't... well I'm sure you'll find this letter eventually. Please know that I love Slush and Sleet and you as well, and I hope you have a happy time at the festival. Because... I might not be around for it... Thank you for everything... Kate."

Timothy's eyes shook in terror, and he became horrified. "Aurora... is sick? Why is she hiding her condition from her uncle?" Suddenly he heard Aurora's voice, "Hey! Are you done, Tim, or do I need to help you get dressed?!" She called out, making him look behind, "N-No need! I'm almost done!" He replied, "Well, hurry up!"

Timothy placed the picture and the paper inside the letter and put it inside the notebook, putting it down at the exact spot he picked it up.

"Aurora... Why? What are you thinking?" He hurried toward the closet, grabbed the clothes, and continuously thought about the letter.

He dressed up and rushed downstairs, "I-I need to get to the bottom of this. But I can't push her..."

To be continued...