Hari had been avoiding this.
He woke up feeling like his brain was getting crushed by rocks. He looked for his medicine, desperately feeling through his bedside medicine drawer, and he eventually found the empty bottle under his bed. He sighed. He took those tablets almost twice a day so of course they would run out sooner or later. He cursed himself for not stockpiling earlier. He wasn't a man that could afford to be careless.
What was the point of a strictly healthy diet and dietary supplements if his body would deteriorate regardless? He didn't know where the fever came from, just that it was steadily getting worse.
He refused to let death claim him just yet, so he headed to the infirmary, but moving proved to be harder than he thought.
He knew precisely what could cure him, knew and craved for it, craves for it everyday in fact, he was hungry and hadn't fed for almost a decade and he could recall how good he felt when he took the tree's life but no no no, no life was worth his he would rather die on these stairs right now than compromise what he believed in
A slip. He came tumbling down the stairs he was on. It was almost surreal, he paid no heed to whatever blows he got physically, but pins and needles began stabbing at his head from all angles. He lied there at the foot of the stairs, hyperventilating on the floor and writhing in pain.
This is too much. There was nobody here to help him. He felt like the walls were starting to come down on him and his mind was taking him to a place he wished to forget. He began to cry, for a bit, until his head cleared up a bit. He stood up on wobbly legs.
He leaned against the dormitory hallway wall. Just a few meters to the exit. He walked on trembling legs and got startled by the blinding brightness of the midday sun.
It was still a long way to the infirmary.
He supported himself on the dormitory exit, paling as he realized the distance he had to go. His legs were already unreliable as they were.
He woke up feeling like his brain was getting crushed by rocks. He looked for his medicine, desperately feeling through his bedside medicine drawer, and he eventually found the empty bottle under his bed. He sighed. He took those tablets almost twice a day so of course they would run out sooner or later. He cursed himself for not stockpiling earlier. He wasn't a man that could afford to be careless.
What was the point of a strictly healthy diet and dietary supplements if his body would deteriorate regardless? He didn't know where the fever came from, just that it was steadily getting worse.
He refused to let death claim him just yet, so he headed to the infirmary, but moving proved to be harder than he thought.
He knew precisely what could cure him, knew and craved for it, craves for it everyday in fact, he was hungry and hadn't fed for almost a decade and he could recall how good he felt when he took the tree's life but no no no, no life was worth his he would rather die on these stairs right now than compromise what he believed in
A slip. He came tumbling down the stairs he was on. It was almost surreal, he paid no heed to whatever blows he got physically, but pins and needles began stabbing at his head from all angles. He lied there at the foot of the stairs, hyperventilating on the floor and writhing in pain.
This is too much. There was nobody here to help him. He felt like the walls were starting to come down on him and his mind was taking him to a place he wished to forget. He began to cry, for a bit, until his head cleared up a bit. He stood up on wobbly legs.
He leaned against the dormitory hallway wall. Just a few meters to the exit. He walked on trembling legs and got startled by the blinding brightness of the midday sun.
It was still a long way to the infirmary.
He supported himself on the dormitory exit, paling as he realized the distance he had to go. His legs were already unreliable as they were.
