of blood and lies ; dystopian

27

present 

I woke engulfed in warmth.

I knew something was wrong. For the past few days, weeks even, I'd been forced awake from my trembling body. I should not have been warm.

I shifted against the bed. My body tensed as I rubbed against flesh rather than mattress. Blood rushed to my face and scattered under my cheeks.

At some point, through the night, I'd moved from my sitting position. I assumed I'd gotten cold and unconsciously moved toward Karro's warmth.

I lay beneath the covers, my face buried in a warm chest. I could smell the lingering kiss of sweat, but he was no longer as damp as he had been.

Did he break the fever?

Karro shifted against me, letting out a heavy breath. I tightened. To my back was the wall and ahead of me was a barrier of hard muscle. I felt too trapped. My heart picked up and my throat began to tighten. I would need to crawl over him to escape.

I jerked myself away from him. It felt too good. Nothing could feel this good, especially with him.

I pushed myself up from the mattress, holding myself up with my elbow. I looked down at him with rounded eyes, my breathing picking up. Please be asleep. Please be asleep.

His eyes were open. Hooded, but conscious.

Worst of all, he had a grin spread so far across his face that I could see the silver molar tucked in the back of his mouth. Asshole.

"See you are feeling better," I spat. I kicked the covers to my feet. I sat up and prepared to leave this bed as fast as possible. Karro was still pale, but from the looks of it he had indeed broken the fever. That was the only aspect concerning me; I wasn't in the mood to figure out how to treat a seizure.

If he didn't stop smirking, though, I might just have to force him into a seizure.

"I feel fantastic," Karro teased, his voice coming out as a rasp.

I scowled and pushed myself off of the mattress. I swung one leg over his body, attempting to leave the small confinement. It was past sunrise; this was the time I'd usually kneel by the door and wait for the first tray.

Karro grabbed my wrist, stopping me mid-action.

I looked up at the ceiling, my jaw flexing. I refused to look at him. My knees were on either side of his waist, leaving me to straddle his bare abdomen. I tried to pull or push myself away, but his grasp was too tight.

I narrowed my eyes at the ceiling. I wouldn't look at him. I didn't want to see the glint in his eyes or the way I was positioned. It was too much.

"Karro," I warned. I hated how warm he felt.

"You are ashamed?" Karro asked, tightening his hold around my wrist. Of course, I was ashamed. I shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be alive. I shouldn't have helped him. He shouldn't feel so good between my legs.

I frowned. I should have cut his throat when I had the chance.

"I do not care," I replied, still unable to look down.

I pulled my wrist away from his hand. His hands landed on my waist, holding me in place on top of him. I was going to murder him, so slowly.

"Thank you."

I ground my teeth together, my heart picking up pace. I couldn't recall the last time Karro had thanked me. The words never left his mouth, even when we were in a "relationship" together.

His hand wandered from my waist. And then to my hip. I tensed as his fingers lingered on top of my thigh. As terrible as it felt, I let him. My heart pounded in my head and I held my breath.

I pushed myself off of him after a few seconds. I made my way to the door and knelt in front of it.

I continued to hold my breath. Karro would not have the satisfaction of hearing how heavy my breath had become.

He'd held me.

I hadn't been held like that since, well, him. But the circumstances had been different. It was an act, then. This was no act.

I closed my eyes, my back to him. He'd held me after our anniversary; when he'd decided he would play the same game as I.

Was he tricking me now?

Was this a joke?

I dug my fingernails into my thighs. I thought of the nurse and how she too was being deceived by him. Was I being played the same way she was? Why was it working? I should not be allowing myself to feel so weak.

The nurse.

Something clicked in my head.

"The liquid they injected us with," I started. It was black; I'd never seen anything like it at The Blood. I'd been to all three sectors and never had I seen something like it. "Do you have any idea what it is for? It could have made you sick."

"No. It didn't make me sick before. There are numbers on the bag, but that is it. They are counting how many injections we'd had. Your bag was labeled one." I sucked in a breath. I hadn't noticed the number on the bag because I was too distracted by the nurse's pink cheeks.

I wondered if the liquid had stopped me from getting my period. If it stopped him from aging.

"What number was yours?" I asked. I pulled my hair behind my back, covering the bare skin his eyes touched.

"294."

I flinched. "You are mistaken if you think that cunt is going to inject me that much," I said. I maybe had one more injection in me before I stabbed her in the eye with her needle. No good was going to come from being injected with some black substance. I'd only allow it so I could examine the room and soldiers.

The tray of food came shortly after. Three bags of rice, a bag of toothpaste balls, and some water. Karro joined me, eating on the floor too close. We argued about who would use the hot water tonight.

I could not look at him the rest of the day.