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.
“I can’t tell you what I don’t know. I hope he never comes.” Everything seemed fuzzy. He had given me another sedative. He looked disappointed as I closed my eyes and found peace for a short time.
.
It went on that way, for another week and a half. It did attack my joints and my limbs curled painfully in on themselves, the pain only getting exponentially worse. My voice left me as a result of my cries and screams of agony.
I was being slowly tortured to death. My spirit was already broken, my mind was barely holding on.
Eventually I was hooked to some sort of breathing mechanism and loads of other lines and tubes.
I retreated into a dream world where it was just me and Mitch in our tree house, stealing quick kisses and talking about our school day.
.
I hated their hands. They were always freezing and always rough, not caring at all about the personal hell I was trapped in. They always tugged me out of my happy illusion and back into my torture chamber. They kept coming, checking this, changing that. I hated when they touched me, no matter what it was for.
The only exception was Dr. Kaplan. He was always warm and gentle, quiet and calming. At least he had the decency to pretend he cared.
I managed to ask him how long. That was all I could get out. He seemed confused, as if he wasn’t sure if I meant how much longer or how long had I already been suffering. He answered the latter.
“Four weeks and 6 days.” His eyes were cloudy, or maybe that was just my deteriorating vision. All I knew is that it would be over soon. I was wasting away and death was standing at the threshold, just waiting.
MItch wasn’t coming. He was leaving me to die.
I was glad.
I went through my final thoughts. I mentally sorted through the things I wouldn’t get to say. I said silent apologies, apologizing for giving up on him not once but twice, apologizing for not having the strength to protect him.
I also forgave him. I forgave him for not telling me the truth, for leaving me alone again, and most importantly for surviving.
I said a few small prayers that he would find love again and that he would live a long life and always be happy.
I prayed that he would never find out how weak I had really been there at the end. I prayed that he would never know the reality of what they’d done to me, that he would think it was quick and painless. He didn’t need that guilt.
I prayed that death would hurry and release me.
Days went by, I could barely see anymore. I couldn’t think. The tiny threads that held on to my sanity eventually began to sever one by one. I was slowly losing all comprehension of reality. I was losing everything that was left of me.
.
I wanted to cry when I saw him.
My eyes rolled around in my head before they focused on the man. It was the most wonderful sight, and the absolute worst.
Mitch.
He was standing there, looking at me with tears running down his face as he walked closer.
“You’re late” I whispered.
He looked a bit confused, but laughed slightly through his tears.
“Run away.” I forced out. He just kind of looked at me as he approached slowly. I thought maybe he didn't hear me.
“Mitch, go. You … have to go. Run.”
He looked as if he was trying to choose his words carefully.
“We’re going to run away together. We’re going to hide.”
“I thought you weren’t… You… you left me… you...” my voice was so quiet, i didn’t have the breath for more.
“Shhh … shh.”
He ran his fingers across my cheek. He seemed surprised when my head turned, my lips pressing against his hand. The kiss only lasted a few brief moments, I didn’t have the strength for more.
“You know where I went. You shouldn’t have worried.”
“You didn’t.. you left … Arya ... left me there. You just… ” I got all worked up, my breath coming out in short gasps.
“Shh shh, calm down. Breathe in...out …in ” he coached me soothingly, and slowly everything returned to normal, well normal for my current state.
“I told you before I left.”
“If you had told me, do you think i’d be here dying?” I sounded angry, resentful. I was. Adrenaline had pushed that sentence out of me in a raspy, gasping voice.
“Scott.”
“end it... Kill me. Please.” I cried, trying to force out all of the things i needed to say. I tried to find his hand. He noticed my weak attempts and he wrapped his fingers around mine. I held onto him with all of the strength I had left. It wasn’t much.
“Scott.”
“you didn’t…I lo...I.. ”
“Close your eyes.”
I did as I was told, but I knew something was wrong. I knew this wasn’t right. This hand felt wrong. That voice wasn't the right pitch.
As I slowly managed to open my eyes again, I realized my mistake. That wasn’t Mitch at all.
Dr. Kaplan injected me with something before looking away from me, his expression a bit discouraged.
He spoke into what I assumed to be a cell phone.
“X23 is with Arya Adams. He doesn’t know where. He’s not going to make it much longer. I have to give him the cure soon… I understand, but he won't last that long.” He wouldn’t look at me again as he walked out quickly.
I felt even more hopeless and beyond alone.
Mitch wasn’t there. I was truly alone and nothing but death would save me.
I felt tears on my cheeks as the darkness took me again.
.
I was wrong.
Little did I know it would all be over soon.