How to Be Cliche (A Novel)

(34) Operation

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        If you were to ask past Pepper Ballard (the Pepper Ballard who once lived in an average town with humans) if she would ever be in the situation I was in now, she would have thrown her head back and laugh, then called a psych ward.

                  And a catering service.

          The only door in our "cell" which had been locked tight for hours finally opened, and a orange, yellow, and red mohawk-ed became visable. He stood in front of a mysterious, brightly lit hallway. I was definitely getting too used to being in the dark because my eyes started tearing from the light he had let into the room.

                   "Dinner is served," Nacho said, and a morsel of food plopped right into my lap. It was hard, definitely stale, and smelled a bit like mold. I spread my hand along the ground and found an aged piece of cheese. I sniffed it and took a bite.

                  It wasn't cheese.

                  My stomach growled for the five-thousandth time.

                  "My compliments to the chef," I said sarcastically, spitting the contents in my mouth to the side. "Next time we'll just kill one of the rats in here and eat that. Protein."

                  Nacho snickered, throwing a large bag into the room. It had some clothes in it and a bunch of medical equipment. No blood, which made my hybrid side start to sob. The more I thought about blood, and the more I smelled Sin's wound, the more I was losing control.

                  The cell door slammed shut.

                  I squeezed my hand into a fist.

                  "Bastard!" I roared after him, forgetting that Sin was sleeping.

                  The male model next to me stirred at my scream, his body quivering and his mouth slightly open in a pant. He sat slouched at an awkward angle, with his neck tucked into his chest, back against the wall, one long leg stretched out, the other curled, and his hand pressed against his wound which was bandaged by yours truly. I was certified in seven areas of first aid, but since I was given poor bandages and materials to work with, I simply could only do my best. Not my very best.

                  "I told you not to let me fall asleep," Sin croaked, wincing as he sat up taller against the wall. His voice was very rough like his throat was dry. Had he not been bleeding out at the time, I would have considered it a guy's sexy sleepy voice.

                  "Yeah, well that's all you could physically tell me when Nacho threw you in here before you passed out. I need you alive or I'll have nobody to cuddle with and complain to. The rats in here aren't hospitable."

                  Sin made a noise that resembled a laugh, then hissed in pain. Actually hissed, like an animal. I definitely had to still get used to that.

                  "You're hurt, you need to sleep. I'll be fine."

                  "You won't be fine. None of this is fine! We're in a god damn cell under Smiley's watch!" Sin took many ragged breaths and calmed down, lowering his voice and turning his slowly head down to me. I could vaguely see the blueness in his eyes and the shadow of dark brown stubble on his jaw. "We're just as good as dead unless we're both awake and thinking of an escape, and you know it. You will not let me sleep again."