Untouched

35. Unknown

Seconds, minutes, days all blend into one neverending painful moment.

I'm plastered to the bedsheets, tangled in a perspiring cocoon of body heat. An onslaught of headaches and nausea has me writhing in agony. The beeping and humming of the machines my body is connected too adds to the pounding in my head. I'm waiting for my head to explode from the pressure or to drown in a pool of my own vomit.

Growing up, I was never ill. I never experienced the symptoms of a cold or the flu or a throat infection. People in the Naturalist settlement don't often suffer from pathogen-induced illness. Maybe they died along with most of the population or maybe twelve weeks of quarantine not only prevented the spread of Virulence but other diseases too, or maybe non-contact is that effective it stops most pathogens. Whatever the reason, I've never suffered. The rare times Mattan and my parents were ill I always managed to avoid getting it. My body seems to be making up for all the lack of sickness.

Now, all I am is ill.

I wretch into a bucket as green bile sears up my throat, scorching my insides as it travels out.

I drift in and out of sleep but never for long periods; the permanent brightness burns through my eyelids and wakes me up. I dream of the relief of darkness, of knowing it's night, of knowing time.

I also dream about Zach. I dream about him a lot.

Ben visits to check the machines, to inject me with more substances and to force me to drink and eat, I can't do either. He continues to talk, but he's vague about the substances he's pumping into my body.

If I wasn't giving him the silent treatment and I wasn't so ill I'd asked for more details. I'd asked him to explain every injection and what it does. I'd asked the reason for the strange new outfit he's started to wear; covered head to toe in a shiny silver material, his eyes visible through a clear screen. I'd ask why the crinkle and squeak of his outfit causes my teeth to clench. I'd ask why he's doing this to me. 

I don't. It won't stop him from continuing. It won't help me escape.