DEPRAVITY : Embry Call

13

When I awake the next morning, he isn't in bed beside me. I slip out of my pajamas and into regular clothes, and head into the kitchen. He's there, making breakfast. Quil is with him, sitting at the table. He looks exhausted, with his curly hair pointing in every direction, and his head resting on his hands at the table.

"Morning," I manage.

"Good morning," Embry says. "I called in sick to work, just so you know."

"Why?" I ask.

Embry pauses, flipping a pancake. He bites his lip, looking between me and what he is cooking, "remember how I told you there was more I had to say?"

I nod, feeling uneasy.

"Quil's going to show you," he answers.

Quil groans, picking his head off the table. When he turns to face me, I can see how yellow his skin is becoming. Not quite jaundice, but a sign of sickness. I mean, obviously, he's been sleeping in a car for half a week.

"Why can't you?" Quil says. "I showed Fawn."

"Yeah, so Jacob could explain it to her," Embry says. "If you'd rather explain it to Blythe-"

Quil waves his hands, cutting Embry off, "absolutely not. I do not need to relive Claire's reaction."

"What is it?" I ask.

"Let's just eat breakfast first," Embry says, gesturing to Quil. "You haven't eaten a proper meal since when, Quil?"

"Does drinking apple juice at the hospital count?" Quil quips, but his voice is more sour than sweet.

We sit down and eat, but I feel myself growing anxious. I try to eat a decent amount, but I find myself eating less than a proper portion. I don't want to get so stressed that I throw up again.

After the meal, we head outside. It's cloudy above. Foggy, even. The air feels so moist against my skin. I'm lucky I grabbed my coat, or else I would be freezing.

"I'm going to take off my clothes now," Quil says, glaring at Embry. "I like this shirt."

He strips down to nothing but his boxers, and I look at Embry then at Quil.

"Give me a second, I haven't done this in years," he says. He stretches his muscles. His neck twists in circles, and he rolls his wrists."It's not happening."

Embry raises an eyebrow, "seriously?"

"I'm tired, malnourished, and not angry," Quil says. He slaps his chest, shaking in the cold. "Say something that will make me angry."

"I'm not doing that," Embry says. "You can do it."

Quil slaps his legs, and I flinch. I'm not used to people hitting themselves. It must be to get the blood going. He grimaces, growls, like actually growls like an animal, and then stops, "it's not happening."

"Can you just tell me?" I ask. I'm not sure what is going to happen and I don't think I want to find out.

Embry shakes his head, "you'll think we're crazy."

"Crazier than Dr. Cullen?" I ask.

He doesn't answer, and it makes my stomach sink.

Quil continues to grunt, and twist his head in awkward directions. He moves his arms wildly but to no avail.

"I can make you angry," I say since Embry seems to have a bleeding heart and my patience is weening. "Is that okay?"