Chapter 7

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Ortiz

I shivered furiously underneath the mound of blankets on top of me, my teeth chattering so hard I was afraid they'd break. I stared blankly at the closed door of my room, trying to fixate on something other than the ache deep on my bones and the sweat that rolled down my temple as it pulsed stressfully. I felt like I wanted to tear off my own skin, and my throat still burned as I swallowed, reminding me of the events of the night before.

Benji had rushed into my room soon after Corey linked him, giving me a tiny dose of the opiate to ease the worst symptom of my withdrawals, the hallucinations. I almost choked with how fast I chugged down the tiny pill, willing it to absorb into my body as fast as possible. 

Corey had stayed by my side all night, as awake and alert as he was during patrols, holding a trash can to my mouth as I heaved up my guts into it. I felt like absolute shit, dry heaving continuously even after I'd expelled all of the contents of my turning stomach. 

I knew my room had to smell absolutely fucking terrible even though I could barely smell anything through my stuffed up nose, but Corey didn't show any signs of discomfort as he sat beside me. I even found myself leaning into his touch then he rubbed my back during a particularly harsh retch, selfishly using the tingling sensations his touch brought me like a painkiller. 

The pattern of sit up & throw up continued into the early hours of the morning, leaving me in a trembling heap on my bed, utterly exhausted both mentally and physically. Regardless of how tired I felt, I dared not close my eyes even for a second, as fear gripped me when I thought of what terrors were hiding behind my eyelids, waiting patiently for me to succumb to unconsciousness. 

Corey tried to stay close in case I needed more help, but after my stomach stopped churning I buried myself under the comforting heap of blankets on my bed and banished him away into a far corner of my room where he still sat by himself silently. I dragged my sore eyes from the door I'd been staring daggers at for what seemed like hours to inconspicuously take a peek at the large man.

He sat still in his seat across the room, muscular legs crossed at the ankle. The only movements he made were his eyes as they drifted across the pages of the book he held in one large hand and the occasional flick of his finger as he turned the page once he was done reading it. I'd noticed he had a hobby of reading when he was not at training or doing whatever the fuck else warriors do throughout the day. He could go on for hours, sitting in the same spot as his face remained strangely - but unsurprisingly - emotionless, not reacting to whatever words were on the page.

In any normal circumstance, I wouldn't give a flying fuck what he was doing with his own time, as long as he was far away from me. But in that moment, I was so utterly, painfully bored from laying in my bed in a pool of my own sweat for hours on end, so I decided to poke the dragon just to stimulate whatever was left of my fizzled out brain cells. I had intended to simply ask what book he was so intensely focused on, but of course - in my typical fashion - the words spewed from my mouth in a much more... interesting form. 

"I didn't know you knew how to read." I said with a slight sharpness to my tone, my voice hoarse from the stomach acid that burned my throat the night before. 

Corey's eyes snapped up to mine the moment I spoke, although his body remained painfully still in the chair. He didn't react outwardly to my stupid jab, instead calmly lowering his eyes back down to the pages of his book as he replied, his voice impossibly deep but also gentle.

"Indeed I do." He shifted in the chair only slightly as he turned the page, eyes returning to scanning across it before he fell silent once again. I felt my jaw tic at his nonchalant reply, feeling irked that my insults never seemed to impact him the way they did anyone else I carelessly hurled them at. 

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