Wicked Ones {bxb}

{Chapter 45 : Black and White}

 It had been several hours since Kailan received the second installment of poison. He hadn't a clue what it was that they gave him, but he felt as if he were sick with some strong strain of the flu. Forrest was right. It was worse than the last.

Hot and cold needles prickled his flesh as he pushed his hair from his eyes, the tresses damp and sticking to his skin with sweat. He was shivering, yet felt as if his body was set aflame, and his face ached as if he was being stung continuously by a colony of bees. Worst of all was his stomach—bile churning, saturating his insides with a merciless pain.

Lurching forward, Kailan grabbed the side of his cell's small ceramic toilet. His chest heaved as his body tried to expel the contents of his stomach—if only there were contents to purge. Despite Forrest's advice, he hadn't eaten much in days, and at most he was left with sour stomach acid and spit. He coughed, making a disgusted noise as he spat into the toilet. Flushing it, he leaned back against his bed with his eyes drawn tiredly shut. It was only the second shot, but he felt like death.

A soft tap shook the glass of his cell, Sage watching with crossed arms and a sad look on her striking features. "Not feeling so good?" Her tone was sympathetic, but as always there was an evil behind the pleasantries. "You have ten minutes to shower."

The door to every cell in B-group slid open in unison, and Kailan wondered just how easy an escape could be—dozens of Wickeds with their doors wide open... they would be unstoppable. But then, they were weak, and most were only children. Small, frail little things like Forrest.

Kailan watched as Forrest was helped to his feet by a man in a suit. He looked weak, wearily stumbling over himself as he was guided out into the hall. His eyes held a lifeless glaze, and he wheezed audibly with every breath he took, but after a moment, he was able to stand on his own two feet. He was given a stack of fresh white clothing, of which he took in his feeble clutch.

"Keep an eye on this one, will you?" Sage sighed, looking the young boy once over. "He doesn't seem to be reacting to this injection so well."

Kailan's eyes bore into Sage. Every volatile thing he wished to say to her was set in his stare, and he only looked away once he brushed past her to escape the stagnant air of his cell.

Time had run still for Kailan, but he counted the days he thought had passed. It had been a week since his first injection. He knew, because as part of his punishment for his behavior with the doctor, he wasn't allowed a shower for seven days. It wasn't particularly an issue for Kailan, hadn't it been for Forrest. Every night, it meant an hour away from the only good thing about the place. Forrest, who gripped the guard beside him as he lost his balance, his long and boney legs fumbling beneath him.

Forrest was the one ray of light in a place so dark and black, you couldn't find your hands weren't they pressed to your eyes. In a figurative sense, at least. This place was anything but black—in fact, it was all so white, Kailan had forgotten what color looked like; the shades like acrylic paints that paved the sky during a summer sunset, the pastel in April's hair, the blue in Vinny's eyes. Now everything was monochromatic—black and white. Black and white. Apart from Forrest. Forrest was all the colors a person could be, but just as his complexion, they were beginning to pale.

Forrest was a good kid, but Forrest was sick. Forrest was dying, and it wouldn't be long until Kailan looked the same. Nothing but skin and bones. Nothing but black and white.

Kailan felt a hand on his shoulder—one of the guards who was to guide him to the showers. He shrugged him off, hugging his arms to his chest. "Don't fucking touch me."

He was handed a stack of white clothing, just as Forrest had been. And then Kailan was shoved forward in a rough manner.

"Get moving," the guard ordered.