XXVII · ISABELLE

Isabelle Baudelaire's point of view

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CÉDRIC, THAT ASSHOLE, WOKE me up with a cup of cold water in my forehead. Would that make anyone wake up in a good mood? Yeah, I guess not!

"Do you have a death wish?" I yelled, jumping from my bed and he began laughing so much that he fell to his knees. "What the fuck is your problem? Damn it!"

When he finally stopped mocking me, he sat down, painting, "I always wanted to do that. Besides, I've been calling your name for almost an hour. It's 7 am, come on, wake up!" He got up and came to me, then held me by my shoulders and put me on my feet, pushing me towards the bathing room. "Take a bathe. You stink sweat How did you swear while sleeping?" Then he touched my forehead with the back of his palm, "Fuck, you are burning up!"

"What?" I asked confused, then put my hand on my forehead. "Why am I burning up?"

"You have a fever!" He exclaimed and I glared at him.