I Am Plague

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One 

I couldn't believe it. The social worker came in, and Cain masked his pain and inevitable rage for me, with a cool, arrogant grin. He charmed her, is what he did, and she fucking fell for it. 

"I see no reason for you to have to stay in a hospital." She said, and handed him a paper, "Here is a list of highly respectable psychiatrist that I recommend you choose from. As well as a suicide hotline, and a group attendance for addicts."

"Thank you." He shot her a gorgeous grin, "I'll be sure to consider a psychiatrist in the future." He won't. I know him well enough that I'm sure he will rip the paper in shreds the moment she steps out of the room. 

He does. She walks out and he's already got the paper crunched in the palm of his hand. He pulls himself out of the bed, the drugs they gave him clearly fading off. He doesn't say a word to me when he walks out, without even mentioning to his doctor that he was leaving.

Last night had been hell. He kept cursing at me, then he spat at the doctor, and no matter how tired he was, he refused to fall asleep. I don't know why he hated doctors so much. I don't know if something had happened to him in his past to make him hate them. He gladly poisons himself with his own doses of chemicals, but anything a doctor tries to get him, he freaks out as though that is the true poison.

He's been up for over twenty-four hours. He does not realize how infatuated he looks. After last night I grasp that not only is he passionate about his project, he practically worships it. It's become clear to me that he will stop at nothing to get the supplies from this contest, to perfect his plague.

He is going mad, or perhaps he's always been, but masked it beautifully. His façade is cracking, and his addiction is pulsating through.

One of these days, he's going to fall, and I don't think I'd be able to help him when he does.

This contest is going to show his true colors, in fact, it already has.

We walk out of the hospital. Neither of us say anything. I hate that he's out here with me. I hate that he played the social worker like a game he has mastered dozens of times before. She doesn't know him like I do. Just because he is a peculiar case, does not mean he isn't just as equally a danger to himself. I believe he is worse. He is so much worse because his peculiar addiction is unknown, and therefore, ten times more dangerous. What medicine can you give a man who overdoses on chemicals daily? What could even work?

We return to our dorm an hour later. He instantly sits down at his desk and begins working on his project. I see the weakness in his body, the shaking of his hands, the constant wipe of sweat from his forehead, but what can I do?

"Cain."

He ignores me, and I'm so angry, I know he also angry, angry at me for trying to help. I'm angry that he doesn't take care of himself. I'm angry that he should be resting but he won't. He won't ever rest until his project is done. I hate his project with every fiber of my being. I hate everything he has ever created; his genius is only killing him. His creations are nothing more than promises of suicide.

I walk over, and grab his shoulders, forcing him to look at me. He's glaring at me with so much rage that I want to step back, but I don't. I only glare back.

"It's not worth it." I tell him, "This," I beckon to his many flasks and containers of chemicals, "Nothing good can come from this."

He doesn't say anything, and I huff, irritated, "Can't you just think rationally for once in your goddamn life?"

He stands, "You tried to get me locked up."

"The doctor tried to get you locked up. You are killing yourself!"

"Then let me fucking die!" He yells so loud that I wince back. It felt like an unwarranted slap across the face that I should have seen coming.

We stare at each other, and I don't know what else to do than say, "You're an idiot. I can't believe I ever fell in love with you."

The silence is sickening. A look of horror paints his face, "You what?"

I'm crying, of course I am. "Do you know how hard it is to watch the person you love slowly die? Do you know how many times I wanted to shake you into reality? You're so fucking stupid Cain, because you only care about chemistry, you care about nothing else, nobody else. You're selfish. You're willing to die in front of the people that love you and for what? A plague?" I take a step back, "You're going crazy, and it makes me sick. I wish I never met you. All you have ever done is make me hurt."

His eyes narrow, "My work isn't worthless."

"It's not worth your life."

"You aren't my mother."

"Your mother would be heartbroken if she knew what you were doing." I take a deep breath, and say what I've never wanted to say before, "I don't want to talk to you anymore. I don't want you to talk to me. I want nothing to do with you. I cannot stand to watch you die a moment longer. I will finish this competition, and then I will transfer dorms. I am done."

He swallows hard and looks down at his desk. For a long moment, he thinks, and when he was done, he looks back up at me. His face entirely expressionless. "Good." He says at last, "You have always been a distraction anyway." I watch him sit down, and continue writing in his notebook, a clear dismissal. I leave to my bedroom, and shut the door, and as I continue to cry, I grab my own notebook, and I get to work.