Chapter 5: Sickness

“Gwen,” Sheryl called closing the door behind her, “ I brought you dinner!”

But there was no answer. Only eerie silence.

“Gwen,” She called again, concern echoing in her voice.

There was still no answer as the sound of the central air kicked on.

Sheryl began to look around the room. Everything appeared to be in its place. Did she go out? If that were the case, she decided to leave the tray in the fridge for her friend with a note.

Making her way to the fridge, she noticed the bathroom door was cracked. That’s unusual, she thought. But then again she wondered why she even noticed it in the first place. With a shrug she opened the fridge when she heard a faint moan.


Sheryl glanced about the room to find herself alone, just as she had suspected.

Then there was the sound again. It was as if a child was waking from a nap.

Following the sound, Sheryl found herself in front of the bathroom. She wasn’t sure why her stomach had decided to leave her behind. Swallowing she slowly pushed open the door.

There was Gwen,barely conscience, laying crumpled on the floor; sweat beaded on her brow and breathing heavily.


She feel on her knees and tried to wake the blonde. Gwen only moaned.

“Sheryl….,”she said faintly.

“Yes, yes its me,” she answered frantically trying to wake her friend.

“What’s wrong with me…,” Gwen asked clutching her sides, “It hurts…”


Gwen was still laying on the bathroom floor when a doctor finally came.

It took Sheryl a while to find a doctor who lived in the building. She had always been told one lived in the same apartment complex, but she wasn’t sure what number he lived in. It wasn’t like she could take Gwen to a hospital without being recognized—not with the search going on.

“Here it is,” She directed the doctor, nervously pushing open the door.

“Honestly young lady, I don’t see why you just didn’t go to the hospital—or call for an ambulance at least,” grunted the doctor.

He was an elderly man, perhaps in his late fifties, and obviously not pleased with Sheryl’s intrusion on his crossword puzzle. His hair had already grown white with age, and he wore a pair of rimless glasses over pale grey eyes. He grew strangely silent when he saw the woman lying on the floor.

Her eyes were pale from shock. Her skin was covered in a cold sweat, dampening her hair.  Gwen still gripped her stomach from the pain.

“Please,” Sheryl begged, “You’ve got to help her!”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he answered with a sigh.

Shawn looked at the clock hanging on the wall above the TV.

“It’s getting late,” he noted, “Shouldn’t Sheryl be coming back soon.”

“Not if she’s planning to spend the night,” Tyler answered, still fiddling with his homework.

“She’s been doing a lot of that lately. Wonder if it has anything do with that homeless girl.”

“Who knows. And why do you have to call her homeless anyway? She looked like she’d been through a lot.”

“Yeah, a lot of drugs,” Shawn answered his brother with a frown.

“You’re going to regret that attitude one day,” Tyler protested.

“What attitude,” Shawn said frowning.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” Tyler answered with a cold look in his eyes, “It’s partially your fault she’s missing. She wouldn’t have stormed out if you’d have listened to her instead of yelling! We’re suppose to help those in need—not condemn them. God only knows what’s happened to her now.”



It seemed like hours before the doctor opened the bathroom door. He had made Sheryl leave so he could work thus, she sat nervously on the couch. His face looked grim stepping out of the bathroom—as did his voice.

“Help me move her to a bed,” he instructed.

“Y-yes sir.”

Together the two carried Gwen from the bathroom to her bed. Sheryl pulled the covers over her friend when the doctor signaled for her to follow him out.

“Is she going to be okay,” she pleaded.

“She’ll be fine physically…,” he paused to clear his throat, “But how she’ll take it I’m not sure.”

“Why? What happened?”

The doctor pushed up his glasses. “For starters her body is going through withdrawal from the drugs she’s been on, which isn’t helping her physical state.”

“What do you mean…?” Sheryl could feel a tightening in her stomach again.

“She’s pregnant—about three months at least.”



Copyright The Faith Book 2011

~ by The FaithBook on November 9, 2011.

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