I Am Plague

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

Cain's POV

Inevitability is my worst enemy. I'm going to die soon. Sure, everyone is going to die one day, but my death is taunting me. It's waiting for me only hours away. Every time I think I've finally caught up with it, it jumps ahead another few hours, and so I run to catch it and it laughs at me. My future laughs at me.  

Over and over the cycle repeats itself.

I can't get Ophelia's words out of my head. I've never been rendered speechless by her, but at that moment, I was inexplicably at a loss for words.

"I don't think you care about discovery; I think you just want to die."

The irony in hearing her say that, is that it really did make me want to die. The unwarranted images of me downing a jug of bleach played on repeat in my head, and I've never experienced something like that before. The feeling of damning chemicals running through my veins is a euphoric thought. I don't know why. I don't think I want to know why.

The truth is, I don't want to die, not really, maybe some moments I would prefer to never leave my bed, but that's only the human process. My life has never been easy, but I can't say it's been hard either. I did have a rough childhood, but the majority of the population have all the reason to complain about some sort of injustice from their past.

I prefer not to dwell on the rough life I was born into, and instead, I thrive on making it better.

Except, I'm not making it better. I'm killing myself, and that wasn't something I ever thought I cared about until now. Not that it matters what I want because I'm too far into my work to just stop now. The truth: I'm going to die, and whether I want to stop it or not, I have to keep going, and so I will.

After Ophelia's speech yesterday, I was sure that was it for me. The last thing I would see was my only friend clawing her way into the world of chemistry. I remember taking in the moment, seeing her smile as the judges accepted her. It was stunning, it was a relief.

But no, a cruel world isn't so simple. It wanted me to suffer first.

"Hang on, Cain." I hear Ophelia say to me, she's holding my hand, but I barely feel it. "You're going to get better." She's crying, I can hear it in her tone. I open my eyes, but I see nothing. It's all black, and I'm pondering whether I'm on the edge of death, or already in it, these could be my last moments. I'm so fucking angry about that, that in this very moment I choose to refuse death. I'm not leaving without making my plague. I'm not leaving until it is perfect.

I don't believe in God, I don't believe in Satan, but if they are real, Satan is going to have to wait for me.

Everything fades out, and when I open my eyes again, the chaos of doctor's talking, and Ophelia crying has hushed. I hear a steady beeping, and I notices that my vision is back, but only slightly. Everything is a blur, but I am not at all curious of my surroundings. I know I'm in a hospital room, and I know I almost died.

I only care about seeing her.

Ophelia is sitting on the couch a few feet from the bed. She looks like she's asleep, and though I can't see very clearly, I can tell by her exhausted figure that she's been here a while.

How long have I been out?

I'm staring at her for a long time. I know her well enough to guarantee an argument. She's going to give me hell for this, she always does. I know I scare her. I hate scaring her, but she doesn't understand it. She believes I'm am torturing myself for the hell of it. She had no idea how much this formula means to me. She has no idea how much I adore what I do. She belittles it. She swears its an addiction. She thinks I'm suicidal. She is wrong. I'm not going to die until this is finished.

I debate whether I'm ready to wake her, but I don't have to contemplate it, because her eyes open slightly, and when she sees me staring at her, she is up immediately, and at my side.

"Cain!" She grabs my hand and squeezes it and I feel it. I feel it and it for some reason it hurts but I don't want her to let go. "How do you feel?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

She doesn't smile, "You scared the shit out of me. Again."

"I'm sorry."

Her face is blurry to me, but I see it. I see the worry stained on her face and for some reason I feel even worse at the sight. I want to look away, but I force myself to keep staring at her. I deserve to see what I'm doing to her.

"Sorry doesn't get you better." She tells me, holding a frown.

I don't think she realizes how tight she is holding my hand, and I hate how much she cares. I hate it so much, but I don't let go. I don't ever want her to let go, even though at this moment I hate it.

"How long have I been out?"

"Two days."

"Fuck." That's two days I've missed working on my formula. Two days thrown away for nothing.

"You aren't going anywhere." She says before I can get another word out. There's a long pause as she says, "You can't."

I frown, "What?"

"The doctor put you on a seventy-two-hour hold."

The world feels as though it has slowed, and my lungs are failing to work, "You better be fucking kidding."

"He says you're a threat to yourself. I agree."

I try to sit up, but I am so weak that I can't. They drugged me. They drugged me with something, and I can't move. My mind is centered on the contest, my plague. The only thing I care about.

"A social worker will be here tomorrow to evaluate whether you need to be sent to a psychiatric hospital. For your sake, I hope that you are sent there. You need help, Cain." I need to get the fuck out of here. I need to leave.

"No." I'm breathing hard, "No I can't stay here, I'm losing time."

"Stop."

"I need to finish-It's not finished." I hate that my voice sounds to desperate. I am desperate. I hate it.

She stands. "I'm going to go get the doctor." She releases my hand and I'm too terrified to be angry at her. My empty hand is cold, and I feel nothing, and I cannot breathe.

I watch her leave, and I try again to sit up, but I can't. I can't because they drugged me. This is wrong. I'm going to lose the contest, and if I don't make it next week then I lose all hope on getting the supplies for my creation. I will lose everything if I don't win this, and I refuse to let that happen.