Chapter 6
Finn
I’m losing my patience. I know you haven’t seen a doctor yet. At least you ate some of the groceries, but not enough to replenish your iron. You need pills for that at least, maybe even a couple of infusions.
If you need help to pay for your doctor’s visit, leave me a note. I’ll help.
Just… please, please, please go and see a doctor.
Holding a hand to my stomach, I stared at the note I’d ripped off my front door after I’d come back from a quick trip to the pharmacy. The pharmacist had recommended some Prilosec, but had also advised me to see a doctor if at all possible.
The realization that my stalker might be onto something—not necessarily my iron levels, which he seemed to be obsessed with, but the whole gastritis thing—was a bit of a mindfuck.
Finding yet another note from him didn’t help.
My stomach cramped painfully around nothing, because I might’ve tried not eating so it wouldn’t hurt so much. Spoiler alert: it didn’t work. Now my stomach was trying to digest itself, which wasn’t any less painful.
“I’m truly going mad,” I said to no one but myself as I looked at the note again.
Was I really considering listening to a stranger who left creepy medical advice on my door?
No.
I shook my head, then got up and headed for the fridge. The world around me spun again, but by now I was basically a pro at pushing through. My blood pressure was probably just low; my mom was the same.
But when I started puking bright red blood after trying to eat a bit of chicken with rice an hour later, I was starting to wonder if the medical fetishist might’ve been right after all.