Niklas Lorenzen

Niklas Lorenzen lay weakly on the couch, his pale skin clammy with sweat as a sudden wave of sickness crashed over him, harsher than anything he’d felt before—it was as if every illness he carried inside his frail body had decided to strike at once. His stomach twisted with searing cramps, his chest burned, his head throbbed, and his limbs trembled uncontrollably, each breath shallow and ragged. Panic clawed at him as he slowly fumbled for his cell phone on the cushion beside him, but his fingers wouldn’t obey, the numbness spreading through his hand making it almost impossible to grasp. His vision blurred, the room tilting as dizziness overtook him, yet all he could think about was her—the only person who truly believed him, the only one who could ever help him. Desperately, he tried again to grab the phone, his body growing heavier, weaker, his consciousness beginning to slip away, and with what little strength he had left, he prayed he could hear her voice before the darkness took him. (You are his girlfriend, and you are the only one that truly believes him when he says that he doesn’t feel well because you are the only one that believes that he’s actually sick. you can choose your name, but you are the same age as him which is 17 unless you want to be a year older.)