Funny video above to make up for this chapter.

I'm so sorry about what I'm about to do to your feelings.

//WARNING// Contains sickness, sadness, and mentions of death.

•••

Two years ago, Alexander would have never seen himself in charge of the small port. After only a year of schooling from a lovely woman named Hallie, he had already known enough to take over all of the desk work for the pier. He had caught up to the schooling most kids his age had, and surpassed it within a matter of months. He was being paid almost double what he'd been being paid at his first job.

Everything was going well. Alexander and his mother were able to afford food for both of them to eat, and Rachel only had to go to work twice a week. The townspeople had long since stopped looking at Rachel as harshly as they once did. Alexander proved himself, and word had gotten around to the islanders that the boy they once despised was working full time, and could probably outsmart them all.

Everything was good.

They were happy, Alexander and Rachel.

•••

Alexander walked to work early one morning, not quite feeling like himself. His head felt too heavy for his shoulders, and he felt as if his legs weren't enough to support his weight anymore. He shook it off as best he could though, he hadn't missed a day of work since he first began working at the port two years ago, and he wasn't intending on starting now.

He arrived at his desk, picked up a pen and began looking over today's projected schedule. The small task wouldn't have phased him on any normal day, but today the words looked as if they were swimming on the sheet of paper. He couldn't focus on any one word enough to read it. His head was spinning. Trying to read the paper just made him more nauseous than he started, so he placed the slip facedown on the tabletop.

Alexander tried to set his pen down alongside the paper, however his hands had other ideas. They began to shake, the pen clattering on the desk noisily. The fifteen year old took a deep breath, grabbing the side of his desk to steady himself. Maybe that would help.

It didn't.

Before Alexander had time to process what was happening, he was leaned over a trashcan, emptying his stomach of all of it's contents.

The woman he met on the first day, who Alexander had learned was called Josefina, looked at Alexander with a small amount of pity

"You need to go home." She told him.

All Alexander could do was nod his head. He stood up slowly, wiping his mouth and holding his stomach. He managed to stumble out of the shack, dragging his feet the whole way. He made his way back home, stopping along the path every so often to throw up. He pushed open the door to the small building he called home, and he immediately went into the bathroom. He collapsed on the floor next to the toilet, preparing himself mentally and physically for what he knew was about to happen.

Rachel heard the door slam and stood up from her bed to go investigate. She heard something in the bathroom, so she checked their first. Her Alexander was there, clutching the bowl for all he was worth.

"Baby, what's wrong?" She asked, not expecting an answer. She moved so she was kneeling on the floor by her son, and she rubbed his back soothingly.

"I'm sick," Alexander managed to mumble, before curling into a ball on his mother's lap. The pair sat there, on the floor, until Alexander had fallen asleep. Rachel then picked up the small teen and placed him into his bed, with a bucket by his side. She placed a hand to his forehead, he had a fever. She covered him in blankets, trying to help him break the fever.

Rachel then made her way over to her own bed. She hadn't felt well that day either, so she laid down, hoping maybe she could sleep away the illness so she could take care of her son.

Rachel couldn't fall asleep. The room was spinning, she felt nauseous. She had never felt this sick in her entire life. She heard Alexander groaning in pain from the next room over, but she couldn't get up.

•••

Three days passed, and Alexander wasn't getting any better, while Rachel seemed to be doing worse with each tick of the clock. At some point Alexander had been able to move so that he was in his mother's bed with her, but neither of them had been able to clean up after themselves. They both had incredibly high fevers, Rachel was hallucinating.

They couldn't afford a doctor, or medicine. They both knew that. They'd have to ride it out. It was their only option.

•••

It had been a little over two weeks since the pair contracted their illness. Alexander was improving. He was weak and undernourished, but so much was expected. He hadn't gone back to work yet, he was caring for his mother. While Alexander had gotten better, Rachel was declining.

She was weak, she was pale, she was thin and frail. Her skin looked as if it was paper thin, stretched poorly over her deteriorating body. She hadn't touched any food in three weeks. Alexander was struggling to give her water. Her body wouldn't accept anything Alexander tried to give her to help. She couldn't talk through the pain. She barely moved at all for the weeks she'd been bedridden.

Alexander was giving up hope. His mother wasn't getting better, he was smart enough to see that. He did his best to make her comfortable. He kept her warm when she began to shiver, and placed a cool cloth over her forehead when she started to sweat.

He even told her stories. He told her every single story he'd written in his journals, and then some. He told her what he thought. He spoke aloud everything that went through his head. He wasn't really sure if she could hear him anyway.

He never slept anymore. Horrible, morbid thoughts clouded the young genius's mind. He tried to write them down when he wasn't watching over his mother, he was writing everything down. Writing them down helped them sound less truthful. Like what was happening to him was a fragment of his imagination, rather than his reality.

•••

One evening, Alexander couldn't handle it anymore. He'd been awake for over 48 hours with his mother. He'd just go to sleep for a few hours. He sat against the wall at the end of his mother's bed and let his eyes droop shut.

A few hours rest turned into a full day of sleeping. Alexander awoke in a panic.

Something felt... off.

Even though his mom hadn't spoken in weeks, the room was too quiet.

No, Mama no. I didn't even say goodbye. Please don't be ...

Alexander walked over so he was standing next to his mom's face. He couldn't hear her ragged breathing. She wasn't shivering. She wasn't sweating. Actually her skin felt... cold.

The fifteen year old collapsed on the floor, sobbing openly.

She was gone.

His role model.

His hero.

His mom.

He didn't even get to say goodbye.

•••

Um.

So that happened.

I said I was sorry. Please don't hurt me.

QOTD: What do you guys want to happen in this book?

My Answer: So this one isn't really one I can answer well, but I'd want to see characters from other musicals in this story. *wink wink*

Stay Fiery,

aaron_burrn