in, out. in, out. a task so simple that had become near impossible for her. in, out. her lungs refused to do it. instead of a steady stream, ragged painful stabs shot into her chest. this boulder, twice as heavy as her she was convinced, sat on her ribcage, pressing, threatening to take what little air she could get on her own. she fought with coughs that racked her body but gave her only momentary relief before the boulder settled back down, showing no mercy.

it was moments like this she despised her body most. how it could go from healthy to unable to function at it's most basic so very quickly. it had never been a secret her lungs were the weakest part of her. they had been since the day she'd entered the world, weak and fragile. under-developed, the doctor's said then. now they just labeled it asthma.

another bonus she got in life was her weak immune system. that's what the professionals called it, though no definiitive answers were ever given. just "weak". a word button had learned to grow a distaste for. medicine to fight, signs to look for, caution to be taken. life to be lived. it didn't affect her. until it did.

less than forty-eight hours in and it was a battle her weak body could no longer fight on it's own. fast, even by her lamentable immune system's standards. the assistance came with a steady stream of beeps that kept her ill at ease. wires and tubes. equipment meant to help her fight, help her breath.

one little bug, that's all it took to take the girl down. have her in that bed, an iv attached to her arm pumping her full of antibodies her own body couldn't produce enough of. an oxygen mask she wasn't using nearly as much as the doctor's were instructing her to lay abandoned beside her. one little bug had created a fish out of water, gasping for air, wanting desperately to dive back into her safe waters. instead she grabbed her phone. two texts were sent. bell ringing, shot off to her brother. the next message she paused on for a moment.

sicker.