of blood and lies ; dystopian

25

Present

I looked down at my hand. The tips of my fingers were covered with sweat. Karro continued to sleep and wheeze beside me, uncaring of his condition.

"Okay," I muttered to myself. I stood from the bed and paced in a circle. I could leave him to fight through the illness himself; that was what I would do if it were anyone else.

If I called through the door for antibiotics or medication, it would show whoever was out there that we were weak. That wasn't going to happen, no matter how ill he became.

I moved my attention to the floor where the new pouches sat. Rags. Water. Food.

"Okay," I muttered, again. "Okay."

I bent down, reaching under his bed for supplies. I grabbed a pouch of dried cranberries and dried bananas. I bit into the pouches that contained rags and I collected them in my forearm. I threw the pouches of water onto the bed beside Karro; he was going to be dehydrated from how much he sweated.

I ran the rags beneath the lukewarm water. It would help with breaking the fever.

I stared up at the ceiling, waiting for each rag to become fully concentrated. Fuck you, I wanted to desperately to scream. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.

When I reached the bed, I dropped everything down beside him. I leaned under his cot and grabbed a pouch of whiskey. I hesitated, debating if I should grab myself one. Part of me needed to be drunk when being this close to him.

Lastly, I grabbed the thin blanket and pillow from my bed.

"Okay," I repeated, staring down at him. His breathing was coming out in choppy breaths. "Okay."

I winced and approached the edge of the bed. "Make room for Naga," I said, though it sounded like he was too deep in sleep to hear.

The bed creaked as I crawled into it. I winced and shut my eyes; I hoped I didn't wake him. If he slept through this unfortunate situation, it would help.

I positioned myself behind his head, placing a pillow in the center of my lap for him to rest on. My legs were parted, stretched out on either side of his body.

Karro shifted, a shudder racking through him. He readjusted himself so that the back of his head rested against the pillow between my legs.

Every cell and muscle tensed. His head was so, so close to my thighs. Too close. If I looked long enough, I would deem it too intimate, and leave him to suffer.

I looked at his eyes. His lids were hooded as he slowly opened and closed them. Dark circles were forming under his lashes. I wondered if he had slept last night, or the night before. It didn't look like he'd slept in a while.

Unfortunately, he was conscious, all too aware of who held his head.

I hoped he forgot this. If he forgot anything, it best be this.

"Lay on your back," I whispered. He didn't move. I pushed his shoulder, forcing him away from his side and onto his back.

For a moment, I stared down at him lying in my lap, between my legs. His eyes were open, barely, and set on me. My fingers rested on the side of his cheek; I pulled them away when I realized.

I gulped, looking away. My core felt how he looked.

I grabbed one of the rags and squeezed the excess water along his face. The droplets ran down his fever-kissed skin. I slowly ran the cloth along his face, wiping any sweat-free.

It was difficult to ignore the burn of his stare. I focused on his pores to avoid him.

My mind went to the day I sat in the bathtub as Karro cleaned my bloody back. I loathed the feeling of being cared for; it felt weak. But, Karro caring for me was all I had wished for in this world.