of blood and lies ; dystopian

24

Present

I knelt by the door again.

The trays never arrived at the same hour, but it was usually around the time the sun began to rise. Still, it'd become my routine to wait, and watch the slit.

According to Karro, the routine was pointless. I waited, despite his judgment. Whoever delivered the food could slip up; the could leave the slit open for too long. If they did, I would be there.

My fingers flexed around the scalpel.

We'd been here for over a month. The days were seamless. Some nights, I'd wake up after only sleeping an hour, believing it to be the next day; it was going to drive me insane. I wasn't sure how Karro had been here for so long without going mad.

Karro and I were beginning to hold tense conversation, maybe once or twice a day. It was usually after alcohol was involved. We would argue, talk, and laugh, until we both saw something in each other. It would lead to both of us crawling into bed and returning to silence.

Karro coughed, a wet noise bubbling in his chest.

I cringed, turning to face him.

It was the first time I'd looked away from the door in hours.

When he inhaled, it sounded more of a wheeze than a breathe, and when he exhaled it came out heavy. I noticed that his body trembled, despite the thin layer of sweat forming on him. It was freezing in our corner of hell; he should not be sweating.

I hadn't even noticed he was ill as we were back in our time of silence.

My eyes slid to his cheeks. His face was a tint of pink and his lips were chapped as he inhaled through his mouth.

I gulped. I hated his wickled lips.

He let out another couch, wincing when his chest expanded and contracted. The noise came straight from his chest.

The door, I reminded myself.

I turned back toward the door, tapping my fingers against my thighs. I rolled my lips together and looked to the window. This was taking too long.

My ears perked as Karro's breathing grew more strained.

It was becoming too cold at night and the room offered no hope of heat. The water went cold fast, so steam rarely helped fill the room. I'd spent nights debating if I should sleep beneath the sunlight during the day.

Or crawl into bed with Karro.

I ground my teeth together, narrowing my eyes at the slit. If someone did slip up, I'd bite off their finger for forcing me into this room with him.

"Are you okay?" I asked, forcing the words out. I didn't look away from the door. I didn't want to see his surprise from the question.

"Peachy." His voice was as terrible as his breathing.

When in the timeless prison, I once would have gotten myself off to the idea of Karro's breathing so strained. But, it wasn't going to get us out of here. If something happened to him, so did all knowledge of what he hid from me.

"Have you gotten sick in here before?" He had to have gotten sick if he survived this long. The room was too cold to hide from illness.

His breath thickened. "Not this bad."

I looked back to the ceiling. I squinted up at the sunlight. I bet all the General's I'd killed were laughing at me. Fuck you, I thought. I held myself back from flicking off the sky, imagining it was The Blood.

I took in a short breath before pushing myself to my feet. I rotated toi face Karro. His back was to me, sweat glistening along his bare back. How was he not freezing to death?

My stomach flipped as I imagened my nails cutting into his back. I'd clung to him so many times as he fucked me into paradise.

The sound of metal hitting the ground echoed through the room. I jerked my head toward the flap. It was already secured in place, a metal tray laying on the floor beside me. "Fucker," I cursed. I never missed the tray arriving.

Karro let out a strained laugh. He winced and a coughing fit followed.

I scowled and examined the tray at my feet. There were four pouches of water, five alcohol pouches, three pouches of dried apples, and a few clean rags.

I noted what I would shove beneath his cot. We had no need for the amount of alcohol they sent; he already had a surpluss beneath his cot. Some days, exactly what we needed came through the door. Other days, it was all stored under him.

Karro broke out into another wet caught. I scrunched my nose as wet noises and phlegm bubbled in the air. He sounded like he was going to throw up, or choke on something if he did not sit up.

I watched him pull the covers up his body. I looked to my own neatly made bed.

I'd asked Karro once how the bedsheets were changed, as they did not look nearly as worn as they should. He'd explained that when the door opened, bed would occasionally be changed while he was being injected by Blood knows what.

Hesitantly, I approached the edge of his bed. If he had a fever, which I was certain he did, I knew how to break it. It would involve more touching than I wished.

I lowered myself onto the edge of his cot. He was too sick to notice, thankfully. I reached for his forehead, bringing my thin fingers to his skin.

We both flinched.

I jerked my hand away. He was scalding hot.