Part Eleven

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They're taunting me. Go on, Alexis. We'll make everything okay. Plain white pills, little white pills, pills that are a twice daily part of my routine.

They sit in the bowl, those innocuous white pills I'd never questioned before Parker. Before Drew. I scoop them out, let them lie in my palm. Drew thinks it's simply a matter of reacclimating our bodies to sensations they were always meant to feel. That if he touches me enough, it won't hurt anymore. Once the pain subsides, though, I don't see how it would feel any different from what I already feel.

It's frustrating. Of the two people I know who've gone off the regimen, neither can provide me with an idea of what happens when two people touch without pain.

How can such a small thing control so much?

I stare at the pills. Take them or don't. Suffer through days of heat and nausea or continue as I am, mostly content and forced to see the sadness and disappointment on Drew's face. I curl my fingers around them, hiding them from sight. I know they're there, yet they're slight weights, almost invisible. One of them falls to the floor as I drop them on my bedside table, and I retrieve it, lining it up next to the other.

A reminder chimes, and I gather my datpads for the day and hurry into the VRM, watching the university path coalesce. Nerves dance in my belly. I've got time. I can go back and take them.

Coward.

Drew's voice whispers the word, and I cringe. I'm not. To prove it, I step onto the path and head for my first lecture of the day. Sweat slicks my palms, and I can't stop rubbing my hands along my thighs, imagining it the texture of the denim is more pronounced.

The anxiety doesn't diminish as the day drags on. I avoid the office and hide out in the library, ducking behind a pillar to hide from Brigit as she strides toward the nook we usually meet in. I fumble my way through a TA meeting and hurry to the portal, dropping out so quickly I don't have time to catch my breath. The message light is blinking. I ignore it, set the holo port to block, and huddle on my couch, staring at the wall.

I don't feel any different. I'd expected it to be this thing, this big deal, that I'd miss a dose and my body would be all nope, not having it. Instead I'm going on the same as always, blissfully unaware of what I should be feeling.

I skip the evening dose, placing the pills next to the ones from this morning. I'll have to remember to ask Drew what he does with his.

The shaking starts in the middle of Salazar's class the following morning. My hands tremble for no reason, and I sit on them to stifle the jittery movement. Sweat breaks out and trickles down my spine, and the rustling and shifting of three hundred underclassmen taking a final exam is cannon-shot loud.

Office hours start after the exam, and I make my way on steadily weakening legs to my office, praying there won't be many students with questions. The theater class final is scheduled for the end of the week, though, so of course there will be questions.

Someone knocks on the doorjamb, and I glance over. Drew's leaning on it, and he straightens as he gets a good look at me. "How many?" he asks quietly.

How many what? I stare at him blankly. "Doses," he says.

"Three."

The frown tugging at his mouth scares me. "That's quick." He crosses the space from the door to my desk in a single stride. "C'mon. It's going to get worse."

It already has. Without Drew's support, I don't think my legs will hold me up. I lean on him, and together we stumble out of the Arts building for the portal. He pushes me inside with a promise to come by soon to check on me.

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