Unbecoming Humans

Chapter 13

Nima and I finished dinner at nearly the same time, so we walked back to our rooms together. I did not look at her as we went, but there was tension in the space between us. I could feel that she was uncomfortable, but I said nothing. We went into our separate rooms to get ready for the lab, she to change her clothes, and I to dump my shoes. It only took a moment for me to free my feet, so I went and waited by her door while she put on her scrubs. It was not long before she was ready and standing next to me. Before we could start walking, she finally broke the silent tension between us.

"Look, I know you hate me. If you don't want to go with me, that's fine. I can get to the lab on my own." She looked incredibly downcast, and the sadness in her voice melted my hardened heart. I never wanted to see her sad, and it hurt that I was the one who made her feel that way. I sighed. But, instead of saying something kind and consoling, I kept pushing her away. I hated myself for what I said, even before the words were out of my mouth.

"I have to go with you. We're not allowed to go to the lab alone," I stated, sounding like a drone, a soulless cog in a vast machine. What was my problem? Here was an incredible woman, scared and alone in a terrifying new place, who just wanted a friend to lean on, and I was treating her like dirt. Why? Because I was afraid of my mother? I made myself sick to my stomach.

"Oh. Alright," she deadpanned. We walked off down the hallway, Nima walking a short step ahead of me, so we could avoid looking at one another. She surprised me by speaking up, once we had reached a corridor away from the main thoroughfares.

"Will you at least tell me why?"

"Why what?" I asked, confused by her sudden question that had pulled me out of my own brooding thoughts.

"Why do you hate me so much?" For such a personal question, there was no drama in her tone. It was clear that she felt spurned, and she simply wanted to know why.

"Oh." I replied, ever so eloquently. "I don't hate you, Nima."

"Then why have you been avoiding me?" she demanded.

"I..." I rubbed at the back of my neck in discomfort. "...it's a long story," I told her weakly. She turned an angry look on me, fire in her eyes. I put up my hands up in surrender. "Which I would be happy to tell you, when we have more time and privacy," I added quickly.

"Fine." she said, punctuating the conversation. "Let's just get this over with."

We walked the rest of the way to the lab in silence. Her anger was almost palpable, and I cowered behind her, feeling crushed by my guilt for making her feel so many negative emotions in such a short time. Even if I could not allow myself to feel the things I was feeling for her, I didn't have to treat her like dirt. We still had to live together, and life would be much simpler if we could just be friends.

We reached the laboratory, and the staff quickly whisked Nima away to begin her treatment. This session would take much less time than her last. They quickly checked her vitals and blood to make sure that her pre-treatment medications had done their job. They must have worked, because doctors and nurses started giving her a series of injections only a short time after we had entered. After about half an hour, Nima was walking over to me where I was sitting in one of the waiting chairs by the door.

"Good to go," she stated. I offered her my arm to steady herself with. She put up a hand in refusal.

"No need," she said. "They told me these serums would take some time to kick in. I'm fine."

"Okay." I shrugged and we made our way back to our rooms. We said nothing until we reached the residence hall.

"I'm going to turn in for the night," Nima told me.

"Okay. See you later," I responded. We walked off toward our own rooms. Just as I was about to walk through my door, she called after me.

"Hey!" I looked over at her. "We're still going to have that talk," she told me. I nodded and walked into my bedroom, closing the door behind me. I brushed my teeth, changed into my pajamas, and went straight to bed. I lay there feeling awful about the way I had treated Nima. My stomach was in knots and my mind was racing. Twice, I stood up and went to the door to go check on her. I stopped with my hand on the door knob both times. Zan was on duty tonight, and there was no way he would let me enter Nima's room.

Zan was a tall African man built like a wall. His dark skin and deep, rich voice were entrancing, but his stature made his physical presence intimidating. If that wasn't enough, he maintained a strict adherence to the rules of the compound. I guessed that he was ex-military from the way he treated us like we were in boot camp. I knew exactly what would happen if I asked him for permission to enter Nima's room. He would shout at me to get back in my room, and if I resisted, he would physically put me back where he believed I belonged.

I told myself that my fear of Zan's wrath at this late hour was what kept me holed up in my room, but it had never stopped me before. My real fear was talking to Nima. What could I say to her? I wanted to apologize to her for my behavior, but I could not find the right words. To top it off, part of me was still afraid to stop pushing her away. Too many things could go wrong if I kept her at anything less than arm's distance.

After an hour or so, I fell into a fitful sleep. I dreamt of my mother turning into a terrifying flying monster, chasing after Nima and I. I tried to fight her off, but she grabbed a hold of us, one in each razor-like talon, and dropped us into a pit of fire. I bolted straight up in bed, sweating and breathing hard. I rubbed my bleary eyes and looked over at the clock on my bedside table. It was 5 a.m., too late to go back to sleep. I dressed in my running clothes and headed out of the compound, determined to run off the fear and anxiety I was experiencing.

I paused just outside of the front door of the compound. My tired eyes and brain struggled for a moment to understand what I was seeing in the morning darkness. There was a strange mass in the grass beyond the front steps to the compound. I held still, worried that it might be an animal. As my eyes began to adjust to the dim light, I could tell that whatever I was seeing was not the natural color of an animal. It was a huddled grey mass of cloth...with tanned skin...and dark hair.

"Nima!" I exclaimed, leaping the entirety of the staircase without touching a step and rushing to her side. She was facing away from the building and I lept over her to get a look at her face. Her eyes were closed and her skin was sickly pale again. I saw her chest move, indicating a short, shallow breath. That was a good sign. I grabbed her wrist to feel for her pulse. It was faint and erratic, and her skin was cold as ice. The days were warm with the promise of summer, but at night temperatures still dropped near freezing. She did not respond to any of my prodding or my senseless babbling as I fretted over her.

Satisfied that - for now at least - she was not dead, I gathered her into my arms. I tried to will my own body heat to envelope her like a warm blanket, wishing at that moment that I were actually superhuman and possessed such abilities. I fumbled my way back through the front door, struggling to keep a hold of Nima's limp body while I worked the door handle. Once inside, I set off at a run, moving as quickly as I could without jarring her already traumatized form. I glanced down at Nima's unconscious face as I made my way to the lab.

"Hang on, Nima," I instructed her, quickening my stride.