CORY'S POV:
I stay in bed for an entire day, staring at the wall and that fucking movie poster. Marc comes in with some food which he insists I eat. I do so while scowling. I don't try to hide my bad mood. Marc doesn't tell me off for it. I think he's told his friends to give us some space because none of them have been here throughout the day.
"I need to talk to him again," I decide after forcing myself to eat the food. I can't just accept letting him go like this. I get to my feet, but Marc pulls me back down easily.
He sighs. "Cory, I don't think that's a good idea," he tells me. "Give him some space. At least for now."
My response is to glare. "No. He can't shut me out," I argue.
It looks like even Marc's patience is beginning to wear thin. "Okay, come on. We're going for a walk."
He doesn't take no for an answer, and soon, we're just walking around camp, mostly near the crops and the animal enclosures. It's a very obvious attempt to get me to calm down. I just roll with it even if I think it's ridiculous.
I sleep horribly that night and meet at headquarters the next morning, partly relieved that Jay isn't there and partly angry that he isn't. I know he's gone to the center and by the looks of things, I won't be able to talk to him for at least a week. That makes me more cranky than I usually am in the morning.
I get caught on perimeter duty with Jason. He senses my bad mood and keeps giving me these weird looks, telling me he wants to know what's up. When I tell him it's nothing, he stays quiet, watching me crawl into our vehicle, savoring my hurt leg. It still gives me pain but I'm not about to ask for any more pain meds. There might be other people who need it more than I do and we don't exactly have tons of it.
While he drives, Jason keeps glancing my way. When we arrive at our destination, he turns off the engine, rolling his eyes. He looks annoyed.
I narrow my eyes.
"What the hell is the matter with you two?" he asks me. "Why are you fighting again?"
"Ha." I scoff. He's one to talk. He fights with Elena all the time.
I take a deep breath. "We didn't just fight, Jason, we broke up," I admit, trying to say it as quickly as possible.
Jason's jaw drops. "Excuse me?!" he says, dumbfounded.
"I don't want to talk about it," I tell him through clenched teeth.
But Jason ignores that request. "Cory, I don't understand! What happened?"
I laugh bitterly. Jason has this idea that Jay and I can't ever break up, like we've been welded together never to be separated again. I used to think the same way.
"I don't know. Too much happened, I guess..."
I pull myself together and tell Jason what I did and why Jay and I have been fighting so much recently. Jason's expression is blank the whole time because he's still shocked.
"Dude. You definitely need to talk to him as soon as he comes back from the center. Promise me," Jason demands.
I tell him I'll try.
Then we get out of the car to do our duty. I feel so low today and the face of a certain keeps popping up in my mind and I can't erase it. I can't stop seeing the hurt on his face. Hurt I caused. I feel like the worst person ever.
JAY'S POV:
I change out of my uniform and into civil clothes and then fall onto the bed after my argument with Cory. Not even this clothes fit me anymore and I don't move until the the transport arrives. The only thing I want is to take back everything I've just said. I want to forget what Cory told me. I'm not even mad at him, not even surprised. Should I be? It feels like a massive kick to the face, I won't lie, but I've had a bad conscience for some time now about how I've treated him. It's like I can't be happy anymore and I've taken it out on Cory because he was there and did his best to help me. But he doesn't understand. He can never understand.
I don't bother to answer on the walkie when the transport comes to pick me and I just head straight down to them and let them take me to the center.
The first thing they do is to screen me and have me turn in my weapons before letting me inside. The atmosphere is thicker here. It makes me sad because I'm reminded of who I was before I got infected, before I died. I think about a younger me who didn't have to grow up so fast and who didn't feel as numb as I do now. A younger me who was so in love with Cory and couldn't imagine a life without him. I still don't know if I can.
Two guards escort me inside the cage I'm supposed to be in and the inhabitants there all give me suspicious looks, staying as far away from me as possible. It's as if I'm contagious to them and it's vital to stay as far away from me as possible. Like I'm the virus in the pod.
I catch the eye of a younger guy. He's the only one who dares to acknowledge me. He's skinny and has dark locks sticking out everywhere and it looks a bit like someone's put him in a stretching machine and pulled it to its limit; he's really tall. It looks like he can hardly hold his pants up with the home-made belt he has. Still, he looks pretty healthy for someone who's technically died. My guess is that he is a few years younger than me.
He staggers over to me with legs as stiff as mine used to be. At least, I've made some progress in that department.
"Looks like you're someone important," he says, watching me with interest. "Should I know you?"
He more or less invades my personal space, checking to see if I am actually as 'non-dead' as my presence here would suggest. He examines me closely like I'm some kind of lab specimen - which I guess is not far off, since I used to be Sadie's guinea pig.
I raise an eyebrow and try to keep up while the guy in front of me speed talks about a hundred different things. It occurs to him that he knows exactly who I am and ends with the very question I was expecting.
"What are you doing in here if you aren't on medication any longer?" he asks with a confused expression.
I shrug. "My dad thought it would be good for me," I lie. "I've had a bit of tough time lately."
"Well..." the skinny guy in front of me considers me for a moment. "I'm Samir. I'll give you a tour of the place. Not that it's big. It's just a hole in the ground, really. But you know, it's home for now..."
Samir doesn't seem to think twice about my lie and doesn't seem to mind that everyone else is keeping their distance. I learn that no one really talks to each other here, which my new tour guide thinks is rude. He's happy to finally have someone to talk to.
"Did you know, they won't trade Pokémon cards with me? I don't get it. I have some really good ones, and they're only slightly worn..." Apparently, a few guys here have cards, too, and are apprehensive about letting Samir into the club.
Samir drones on about the cards and I try to pretend like I'm listening. Really, I'm taking a good look around. There are about ten other returned in here. Some of them look like they're about to finish their treatment. Some look a little paler and have trouble with simple tasks like eating. There are staff here trying to help those who still have trouble with motoric skills. I have to force myself to look at every single one of them despite the discomfort I feel and the memories that keep popping up in my mind. It feels very much like looking into a mirror I'd rather smash into a million pieces.
Staring at the physical therapy sessions going on around me, it ends up being a very long day and nothing out of the ordinary seems to be happening. Nobody is showing any suspicious behavior and I end up spending the entire first day with the ever-talking Samir.
At night, I go to sleep in the bunks along with the others and the guards check that everybody is all right before they turn out the light. Samir falls asleep in minutes and I take another look around and probably stay awake for another half hour before I fall asleep. I struggle through the night again and wake up several times. Beside me, Samir is moving around, almost like he can't stand not moving or talking even when he is asleep. I get no more than a couple of hours of good sleep in total - and then I wake up again, bathed in sweat once again, panting, and eyes wide. I try to catch my breath, heaving for air to enter my lungs.
Samir sits up next to me, one eye open, first in irritation, then in pity. It's not so easy for him to get up but he manages and rubs his eyes. Then he considers me with something even worse than pity; understanding.
"You have the nightmares, don't you? That's why you're back?" he asks. He blinks and rubs his eyes again so he can see better.
I shrug. "Does it matter?"
Samir stretches and stifles a yawn before saying anything else. "It's pretty normal around here, my friend. Just don't let the roots fasten too deep in you or you will never be free of them. Just recently, there was this guy - actually in this very block - who had those dreams every night and in the end it all became too much for him. One day, he began to sit and stare into the wall, not drinking, not eating. Then they removed him after a few days and I haven't seen him since. I wonder what's happened to him..."
I close my eyes with a sigh and catch myself thinking that the ability to speak must have been the very first thing Samir regained after returning to life. I try to listen, in case he says anything that might be useful to the mission, but mainly I feel overwhelmed with the amount of information I'm receiving per second. And Samir seems very unaware of that as he drawls on.
"... And you know what? They say it helps to talk about it. If ever you need someone to listen, you can count on me to lend you an ear, my friend."
I take a deep breath and lie back down, pulling the covers over my face, staying there until daytime, and my new roomie finally stops talking.
When we've had breakfast the next morning, Samir and I wander around in the courtyard of the block and he shows me how everything works here and how everybody has to line up for medication and examination every day. Not all of us here have begun to eat, and I have no appetite today, so I proceed to push my food around in its bowl. Samir eyes it and I let him have it. It's impressive that such a skinny person can have such a big appetite, but better that than letting all my food go to waste.
"So who's Cory?" Samir asks, his mouth full of food. "You said his name a lot last night."
I have to force myself to answer with the correct term.
"My ex," I say through gritted teeth.
Samir's expression changes from confusion to surprise to amazement. "Wow. So it's not someone dead? I thought it was, because you sounded so pained when you mentioned him, you know? I thought it was your brother, maybe, but he's your ex? Did you just break up?" he asks, still in his cheery voice.
I scoff. If he only knew.
"Ah... You're in the doghouse, yes?" Samir deduces with a knowing look and crosses his arms like he's contemplating the problem that poses.
I can't bring myself to answer with anything other than a shrug. I don't want to think about Cory right now. It's going to distract me from my mission. Samir, though, continues to try and get me to talk about the break-up. He's almost as stubborn as Cory can be because he doesn't let me off the hook that easily. Not even through our session of physical therapy. I don't need it as much as he does, since Samir's muscles are way stiffer than mine. He has been here for almost two months, which means he's one of those making an annoyingly quick recovering. Again, that sort of thing can vary a lot.
I'm told to do a lot of stretches by the therapists and it goes well enough. I still have some trouble with my fine motoric but I'm told it will get better with practice. I comply with orders since it gives me something to do while I spy on my new roomies.
Then it's time for another examination. Two guards come to escort me. They don't smile but simply hold a hand out for me to follow them. We go to the labs while the first one walks in front of me and the other one behind me, both hands clamped around his gun.
They walk me to one of the smaller labs and inside I find Sadie waiting for me. We haven't talked to in a while. Not that it's strange. She's under a lot of pressure since there's always more medicine to be made and resources are not always easy to come by.
Sadie orders the guards to leave and it's hard to ignore how sunken her face looks. I also notice that the roots of her hair is graying. She sees me looking and shrugs, calling in an assistant to do the check-up while she scribbles down the results. Then the assistant is told to leave again and we are left on our own.
"How are you feeling, Jay?" she asks me, looking up from the board she's been writing on.
I indicate that I don't know. Sadie's eyes narrow and she watches me for a couple of seconds before speaking.
"You didn't eat any breakfast this morning and nothing for lunch either," she comments, sounding a bit like my mother.
"I wasn't hungry," I reply.
Sadie puts the board down and scoots closer to me on her chair. "Jason told me Cory didn't show up for duty today either," she continues, not surprised when I avert my eyes from hers at the mention of that name. "You don't seem surprised."
I refuse to answer or even look at Sadie as she says that last part.
"But, Jay, it isn't just about that. This thing with you has been going on for a while, hasn't it? A lot of people are really worried about you—"
"Worry about Cory instead," I interrupt her.
Sadie sighs deeply. "I am worrying about the both of you, so shut up," she replies rather sternly. "Someone just tried to kill you and you're surprisingly lax about it. But when Cory steps a toe out of line, you send him packing."
Sadie actually looks mad and she waits until I stop ignoring her before she continues.
"You have to accept that you need help," she continues. "And I am not talking about the medicine. You have scars on your soul, Jay. You need to deal with them before they consume you."
Sadie's hand lands on mine. She's not usually one to show emotions, but there is passion behind her words.
"I don't know how," I admit.
With this reply, Sadie expression's changes to one of understanding - mixed with a bit of relief.
"We have methods to help with that here," she states, and I consider it, feeling dubious.
The first thing she does is to hand me a notebook, telling me I'm supposed to write down all of my thoughts in that. Especially when I can't sleep. I take the notebook and a pen and am escorted back to my cage. Samir is waiting for me when I am let inside and he spots my book instantly, telling me it's a great tool to deal with conflicting thoughts. At first, I just hide the damn thing under my pillow and try to forget all about it until it becomes nighttime and it is absolutely impossible for me to sleep. I feel like a giant hole has been drilled into me and I'm standing between two kinds of hell; in one corner, you can find all my nightmares and all of my guilt and in the other, is my failed relationship with Cory. I don't want to think about him kissing Marc, but it's like my mind won't erase the image. Like someone really wants to fuck with me. It makes me so mad, so desperate to do something, anything, so I take the notebook out and scribble in it angrily, the pen almost going through the paper. My handwriting is anything but pretty. It's shaky and probably unintelligible but hell do I care. I am not normally the type to write stuff down unless it's for work. I certainly have never read a book just for pleasure. That was always Cory's thing.
I stop writing.
I've already scratched down a couple of pages, and although I feel slightly better, the thought of a certain person still hurts so much. I put the notebook away and curl up into a ball, waiting for the pain to go away. But it doesn't. It mercilessly eats away at me and it feels like I'm powerless to stop it. I just stare into space and wait.