Work Text:
“Welp, I’m clocking out!”
“A’ight! See you tomorrow Aiden!” I hear a call from Samuel in the back kitchen of my workplace, then steps from the same room coming towards the doorway, which is right next to the machine used for clocking employees in and out. I put in my pin, select “clock out”, and look towards the doorway as Samuel rounds the corner with a box of band-aids.
“Oh, hey, you found the band-aids!”
“Sorry I couldn’t find them earlier when you got your papercut. Do you still need one? There’s a couple left in the box. And look,” he holds up the box and shakes it a little with a smirk, “they’re Spongebob band-aids.”
“Spongebob band-aids? How old do you think I am, twelve?” I laugh. I completely forgot that cartoon band-aids like that existed. “Also, no, it seems to have stopped bleeding. Still kinda stings, but I can deal.” I had gotten a papercut earlier today on my right thumb from handling application forms. Happy I didn’t get blood on any of them, that would be fairly unprofessional, and imagine what I would have to tell the applicant! ‘Sorry, got blood on your form from being careless, could you please send another?’ Had to tell Samuel, because I remember him saying there were bandages somewhere, but he ended up not finding them. “It’s good you found them, though, they’d be good to have on hand.”
“True… I’ll keep them under the sink in the bathroom.” Samuel turns around to go back into the kitchen, since the restroom is through there. “You go ahead and head out, don’t want you to wait here longer than you have to!” He yells out.
“Already on it! Have a great night, Samuel!” I respond back and go from behind our serving counter to out the door, the bell above it ringing as I open it and walk out, looking up at the moon and stars. Mine and Samuel’s cars are the only ones in the parking lot since we had the closing shift, but as I look at my own vehicle, I see a dark, blobby shape near the driver's side door, only being able to see it due to the half moon, there only being dim light from the building behind me, and the nearest streetlight being half a mile away. The blob is most definitely some sort of animal, either a cat or a small dog. I probably shouldn’t approach it but it is in my way, so I kind of have to.
I grab my phone from my pocket and turn on the flashlight. I want to do this unnoticed; Samuel shouldn’t have to come out here to help me. He’s the manager and shouldn’t have to deal with something as trivial as a little creature next to my car. It’s just an animal, why should I need help with this? I can remove it myself.
Although, when I do turn on my flashlight, the animal—which ended up being a sitting juvenile Siamese cat—doesn’t look at me immediately. It seems to stare at the ground for a second, then slowly turn its head towards me. It’s clearly shaking, and looks like it’s injured, or was injured, there being what looks to be dried blood on its front left leg. Poor thing doesn’t deserve to be left out here like this, maybe once I get to it I’ll take it home? I mean, there's plenty of space for a little guy like that. It’ll be warm in winter and cool in the summer, and he can have plenty of food and water.
I walk slowly towards it, its eyes gazing at me. I crouch, using my free hand to help scoot me, eventually reaching the kitten. I sit about a foot and a half in front of it.
“Who left you out here, little guy?” I whisper to it. Poor baby looks scared out of its mind. It just stares at me, trembling, its tail clearly between its legs in fear. There seems to be a clear drool on its bottom lip, probably from hunger. “I’m sorry I have no snacks for you, small one. I can if I take you home, though. Can I pet you?”
As I move my hand closer, the kitten doesn’t move besides its shaking. I eventually reach the cat, and start petting it. I start scratching under its chin, a bit of drool getting on my hand. The kitten still just stares at me, it’s beginning to get a bit creepy now, like there’s nothing behind its eyes. Not in a cute way, like how some animals look like they have just one brain cell. It’s this… empty way, like its brain was covered by a blanket and it no longer has access to it.
I remove my hand and tilt my head at it, when suddenly it jumps up, hissing. I immediately get up, startled, and back off, its hair now standing up and it being on its haunches. It’s meowing and growling like I did something to it, then it looks to the left and runs off.
A bit jarring, but I’m happy I didn’t get bit or scratched, cat teeth hurt. I rub my hand on my shirt to get the drool off, but I end up rubbing my papercut and cursing under my breath and wincing, completely forgetting it was there in the moment I had with the kitten.
Well, now that it’s gone, I can safely get into my car and head home. Hopefully Samuel didn’t see any of it, and doesn’t question it.
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A couple weeks pass from the day I interacted with the little cat. It’s a recurring memory, and the feelings of worry, sadness, and fear return with it each time I think about it. I haven’t been questioned by Samuel, so I guess he didn’t see any of it happen. My papercut has scabbed over but every once in a while, it starts itching. Usually that happens with cuts of mine so I don’t really worry of it too much, and I deal with it throughout the workday, it being a part of my days now, I guess. Although it has been itching for a week now, which is maybe abnormal? I honestly don’t know, I don’t really pay attention to how long the cuts itch for, all I know is that they itch sometimes, and eventually it goes away. It is getting annoying though… I ended up lashing out at Samuel, and apologized afterward. I don’t know why I did it, so I blamed it on a headache I didn’t actually have. I’m glad he’s understanding, and I didn’t get reprimanded.
I ended up going home early because I did end up actually getting this nauseating migraine. I guess that’s karma for how I acted toward a manager. He gave me some Advil, and I drove home, on the verge of vomiting and passing out in my car. When did I get this sick? Must’ve been someone at work or a client, stupid people making stupid decisions. If you’re sick, stay home for fuck’s sake. I shouldn’t have to deal with something that isn’t my fault.
I get home, and run straight to the bathroom and throw up. Maybe I ate something bad? What would I have eaten? I’ll need to clear out my fridge when I get better. I feel so tired. Everything hurts, my cut itches, why is it itching so much? Stop itching. It’s so annoying.
I grab the bathroom trash can and haul myself to my bed, placing the bucket next to my bed, then crawling onto the mattress. It’s relieving but it isn’t. I still feel so sore and nauseous. The world is spinning, the walls are moving. What is happening, why is this happening?
I vomit again. I need to call in sick tomorrow. Where is my phone? Where is my fucking phone? Do I have to get up to get it? What even is happening, what is wrong with me? Maybe it is just food poisoning, I’ve never had it before. I’ll ask Samuel to come over to check on me tomorrow.
I find my phone, which was in my pocket the entire time, and call Samuel, vomiting again before he answers.
“Hey buddy, your headache any better?” Samuel asks, clearly worried.
“No, no it hasn’t, I think I might have food poisoning and I just need you to check on me tomorrow, please… I feel really sick and my entire body hurts, and—”
“That’s… not food poisoning. Food poisoning doesn’t make your entire body hurt, just your stomach. Look, there’s three people, including myself, on shift right now. I can just ask the other two to take over. I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“No, you don’t have to do that, I’ll be fine,” I respond. This headache is killing me, everything is. I cover my phone’s mic and vomit again.
“No, I’m leaving right now and we are taking you to a doctor.” Samuel argues. Stop arguing. I don’t need a doctor.
“I said, no we fucking aren’t. I will be fine!” I raise my voice. I don’t need him to take me to the hospital, he just needs to listen to me. Someone please just listen to me.
“Okay, dude, I was just trying to help you, no need to raise your voice. If you’re sure you’ll be fine then I’ll visit tomorrow. Is there an extra key anywhere?”
“Thank you. There’s a… hold on,” I mumble, covering the phone mic again, and throwing up once more, although only clear bile comes out. “There’s a key underneath the potted plant. You know where my apartment is, you’ve been here before.”
“I have been, yeah. Alright, I’ll remember where it is and I will see you tomorrow, Aiden. Make sure to drink a lot of water, but at a pace you can safely intake it. I have to go back to work, goodbye.”
“Goodbye, see you tomorrow,” I reply, then hang up. Water. That’s right, I should probably drink something… but just the thought of moving makes everything worse. It hurts to actually think. Maybe I just need some rest.
But I can’t, no matter how hard I try to. Everything hurts. I’m tired, but cannot sleep. I see shadows dart across the room. I barely know where I am, where anything is. I’m barely grasping onto the fact it is my own apartment. Eventually, everything becomes cloudy as I lose the last bit of myself, and the pain just goes, even after hours of trying, my brain becomes overwhelmingly quiet, my body exhausting itself, and I am finally able to sleep.
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I head up the steps to the apartment door. It was an exhausting day of work, but I still choose to respect the request, albeit a somewhat rude one, to not take Aiden to the hospital and instead check on him today. I feel like I should’ve called 911 anyway to his apartment, I’ve had food poisoning before and it was nothing like he described. Maybe everyone experiences it differently? I don’t know, my last health class was 6 years ago, freshman year of high school, and I’m 21 now.
I make it up the stairs and reach his door, knocking on it first to see if he is well enough to open it. I wait about five minutes with no response, so I lift the nearby potted plant and pick up the small, silver key off the ground. I proceed to unlock the door, open it and step inside, then close it behind me.
“Hey, Aiden, it’s me, Samuel, you alright?”
I hear nothing in response. Maybe he’s asleep? I set my things down on his couch, and make my way to his room, where I notice the door is wide open. “Aiden? You okay?”
I make my way down the hallway, hearing small ruffles from what sounds like the comforter on his bed. I call his name again. I make it to his room to find him convulsing on his bed, a pool of drool near his head. Aiden makes incomprehensible and guttural noises, and moves violently. I stare in shock and disbelief for a full five seconds, trying to fully comprehend and process what I am witnessing. Those five seconds felt like an eternity. The want to ask him if he is okay plagues my mind but I know he isn’t. I want him to respond if I ask but I know he won’t. These symptoms match those of what I’ve seen before. If I would’ve called 911 yesterday we could’ve found out sooner but there is truly nothing we could’ve done. Nothing. Rabies doesn’t get cured no matter how much you beg. I feel sick to my stomach knowing I could’ve done nothing. Absolutely nothing.