Good Enough (Scomiche)

Ch 11. Hell

 

I felt like there were bugs crawling beneath my skin. Billions of tiny bugs just crawling around, biting and scratching. I wanted to claw at my own skin, dig deep to pull them out, but I knew it was nothing that could be extracted and I forced myself to grip at the sheets and tear at my clothes instead of mauling myself. 

I lay there in the bed of my tiny room, writhing in pain for the first couple of days. I was unable to move without screaming, unable to do anything but cry and feel sorry for myself. Everything hurt... the feel of the sheets, the feel of my clothing. I was on fire and everything that touched my skin felt like a blazing sledgehammer. 

On the fifth day it got worse. 

I began to vomit uncontrollably, and being as I hadn’t eaten anything all that came up was acidic bile. My stomach ached and felt as if someone was twisting it, wringing it out. I spent ages there on the bathroom floor, too weak to lift myself from the cold tile.

My days seemed to last months. I refused to eat, or drink anything, hoping death would take me sooner, but on the seventh day Dr. Kaplan showed up again. 

He walked right into my room, knowing I was too weak to run or put up a fight at all. I could barely lift my head. 

Strong arms lifted me from the floor of the bathroom and carried me to the bed and gently laid me out. He grabbed a cold, wet cloth and gently wiped the sweat of fever from my face. 

“Where is he? If you tell me, we can find him and we can cure you and end all of this.” He sounded so sweet, so enticing. He was trying to soothe me with that deep voice.

“Please make it stop.” I croaked out. My voice was hoarse and it hurt to make even the smallest sound. 

His fingers caressed my face as he sat next to me on the bed. It reminded me of Mitch. “I will, as soon as you tell me where X23 is. He can make it stop.” 

"His name is-"

"-where Mitch is" he quickly corrected. Hearing his name out loud made the pain seem to intensify. 

“I wish I knew ” I whimpered. I was weak, and I could do nothing but cry as my personal agony continued. 

He sat there, staring at me and I stared back right into his eyes, knowing my own were full of anguish. Finally he tore his eyes away and disappeared. He returned moments later with an IV. I was barely even aware he was there until he sat next to me again, laying the cloth once again on my forehead. 

“We have to get some fluids back into you. It’ll be attacking your joints soon.” 

“let me die” I begged weakly and I saw something cloud over his expression. He was quiet for a moment. 

“If I let you die, then I let the millions of people who are waiting for a cure for cancer, for AIDS, I let them die with you.” 

“You’re killing me, but you don’t want me to die.” 

“I know he’ll come. Love is a powerful thing.” Something flickered in his eyes and I was mesmerized. 

He tried to guilt me again, giving me the story of how many millions of people would live longer and healthier. He told me how many children would have lives and how all of their pain would end if I would just confess. I tried to tune him out as he went to work connecting me to the IV line before administering another shot.

“Scott, I’m begging you” He took my hand in both of his, but I wouldn't take my eyes from his face. I tried to read his expression through my pain.