Dust

LV

         

My eyes, bleary and unclear, hurt like hell, not unlike the rest of me.

    My eyelids lift from my eyes; the first thing I see is a ceiling, white in color with the whirring blades of a fan spinning above me. I don't move my head much yet, but am able to register that I'm underneath a bed, and am somehow alive.

    I mean, all had been going well until that split second before I thought I bit it that I thought: I'm so screwed.

    My blood feels heavy, like someone's injected lead into my bloodstream, and when I try to sit up and get a better look at my surroundings, a surge of pain washes through me that rips a scream from my mouth. I clash back down against the mattress, sweating, clawing at my skin as if it's the source of the pain coursing through me.

    A door clangs open, hitting the wall with a loud bam as footsteps sound through the room. I hear: "Gem! Gem, are you okay?"

    It's Gael, leaning over my bed and wiping sweat from my forehead, staring down at me with emerald eyes as wide as discs. I feel his pulse against my skin, pounding with unease. I blink up at him, confused. "Gael...you're...okay..." I say, and he cracks a smile, moving his curly hair out of his face with swift-moving fingers.

    "Who cares?" he replies, dropping a kiss on my forehead. "Good news is that you're okay."

    I laugh, but it turns into a hacking cough. "But you fell from a building—"

    "And you healed me, Gem." His eyes are shimmering, but there's a hidden sorrow in them, something he's not telling me. "You saved my life. For, what, the third time? Fourth?"

    I chuckle. "I couldn't lose you." My voice sounds croaky and strange, as if I haven't used it in days. Has it been days? How long have I been out? "Gael...we're in my bedroom, right?"

    He nods.

    "So Maris didn't burn down?"

    Another rueful grin, more subdued mournfulness. "No, no, it didn't. President Hersch stopped the fighting; yesterday she and the Commission met to sign a treaty."

    "A treaty?" My eyebrows shoot up. "What about new vampires? The Commission's whole life, basically, is based on that—"

    "A new way's being researched as we speak," Gael answers promptly. "They're talking about using human convicts, you know, ones that would have gotten the death sentence anyway. Maybe even growing them in test tubes."

    To the last proposal I croak out, "Ew."

    Gael laughs, but his smile drops when he sees me wince at my soreness, and he caresses my shoulders with tentative fingers. "Can you sit up?" he asks. "Your mother said you're lucky to be alive, and that the pain should wear off soon, but until then, she said I should give you some pain meds."

    "Speaking of which," I say, groaning as Gael assists in getting me to a sitting position. By the time my back is against the headboard, I'm a bit out of breath from the effort. I really am sick, but I shouldn't be sick. I should be dead. "I lost consciousness while I was healing you, Gael. How am I even alive? I should be—"

    The sorrow in his eyes grows; once he's handed me the pain meds and a glass of water, he looks away, itching at his shoulder. His gaze is downcast, hair falling over his forehead. "Gem..."

    I swallow the pills down; it's an odd sensation. I've never had to take any kind of medication before, because I heal from everything...but this, this is different. A cold feeling of uncertainty has began to spread through me. I reach up, tugging at Gael's sleeve. With a little jolt, I realize he's wearing the exact same shirt he was wearing when I first met him, a green 1/4 button down, half sleeve. I was positive he'd thrown that shirt out. "Gael, tell me. Whatever it is, just tell me."