The Art Of Revenge (Thalia Nash and Brandon) novel Chapter 85

Thalia’s Pov

The anticipation was killing me; an hour had passed with no red signals. Not the sort that implied the machine was killing him, but we were getting the kind that said he was getting drowsier by the hour. Doctor Willson, on the other hand, attributed it to the fact that he was losing blood.

The hemoglobin level was above six, which was a favorable indicator as long as it continued that way. We were safe from him becoming anemic or going into shock. We were also checking for any signs of o*gan failure, but everything appeared to be fine at the time.

Brandon, on the other hand, had stopped speaking and was not responding to exchanges. The doctor suggested we give him some time and let the equipment do its job. Nestor walked up to me and led me to the kitchen, telling me that I had done my bit and that it was now up to Brandon to fight.

But my mind was crowded with the machine. We couldn’t analyze the filtration rate because it was too early, we had no data and we were doing everything blindly. We didn’t know when to turn it off but relied on guessing.

It was too early to assess the filtration and we had no idea when to turn it off but we estimated if the Hemoglobin kept falling.

“You need to eat Thalia,” Nestor said and began preparing some food.

“What if he does not make it?”  I asked.

“Do not say that,” he replied.

“No no, let’s start thinking outside the box, there should be plan B, we do not have plan B,” I said and began panicking. Nestor stopped me and told me to breathe in. “Okay that’s a good idea, you can start thinking about that without panicking,” he suggested and got me back to my seat.

He was right, panicking was not a solution, but my brain was all messed up and I couldn’t think. I sat on the kitchen chair biting my nails. Nestor handed me some orange juice. “Please drink it all, remember you have to look after the baby as well,” he reminded me. I nodded and began drinking it, my body felt like it was being dragged.

I needed to clear my mind so while he was cooking I decided to go and take a shower. I always did my best thinking in the shower.

I took my leave and told him I would return but first I checked on Brandon before going to shower. He was still hanging on, so I took my things and went to shower. Under the cold splatters, I began troubleshooting for other solutions.

The FRASER 2021i worked like a kidney dialysis machine. Just like it, it was not a permanent solution especially since his cells were still going to keep replicating. If it worked it was only going to give him time.

That was a luxury that he did not have but he needed a cure, the machine was providing some sort of treatment but we had no idea of the duration or prognosis. But apart from something that filtered what else could work? I kept thinking to myself.

I finished my shower, dressed up, and joined Dr. Willson.

“The Hb keeps dropping, I think we should remove the machine and study the cells,” he suggested as soon as I walked into the room.

I looked at the Hb and it was seven, “Unplug it,” I seconded, anything below six was anemic and we did not want to risk that.

He gave the orders and we removed the machine. They quickly took a sample and I waited in anticipation. Brandon was unconscious, somehow it drained all of his energy. I noted that down, there was a need to adjust that element.

But I was eager about the result and the doctor kept taking too long with his useless microscope. He looked up at me and called me to take a look. I walked slowly to him and he gave me space to see the difference myself. In one of the specimens, there were a lot of mutations while in the other there were a few. “You did it destiny, what we have to do is find the duration,” he stated with a smile.

“But these cells can still kill him,” I replied. “No no I was expecting below thirty-five liter,” I added.