The Citrus Syndrome

15 ; water

Water

Catherine

Even though I tell her not to, Taya follows me to my office.

I can't look at her. I feel horrible.

And I have a lot of things to feel horrible about. First of all, now she knows that I've been lying to her for, well, years. And she's going to die because of this goddamn virus. And she's going to know I killed her.

Also, I can't stand to see her sick, even if it's just a cold. Each glimpse I catch of her shivering or coughing or wiping her nose makes a new wave of guilt crash over me. She's been this sick for days. I should have known that. Only, I didn't, because I'm too busy for her.

What else has happened to Taya that I've missed?

Poor Doll. I don't deserve someone so sweet and sensitive. I'm too rough with her, I know that. I make her cry far more often than I'm comfortable with. I snuggle closer to the blanket she gave me to cover myself.

I walk fast although I don't have anything to do once I reach my office. Taya follows, sniffling her way down the hall. I could turn around right now and pull her into my arms. I could reach out my hand and guide her down this godforsaken corridor. I don't.

"C-Cat," she says. "Slow down."

I give my step and imperceptible stutter, allowing her to catch up. Taya walks beside me, looking so soft and vulnerable that I almost stop and let her hold me. Then I remember we're in a hallway full of my colleagues and employees. No, there will be none of that.

My office is at the end of the hall, in the corner without windows, without people, without color. The steady stream of workers thins out as we near my study.

In the eerie silence that has befallen us, Taya's coughing echoes, ringing down the hall like a sounded alarm. I resume my quick pace, push forward to the door.

Oh, what a relief it is to be in my own space again.

The moment Taya closes the door, I hit the ground and curl into fetal position. I feel nauseous, my head hurts. My muscles ache and my insides are twisting each other into knots. I want to die.

"Oh, Kitty," Taya says. She gets down on her knees next to me, hand smoothing down my hair. "What happened? Are you okay?"

She needs to leave. The thought of Taya feeling like I do right now nearly kills me. "Go," I croak. "Get away."

Taya frowns at me. "Baby, I'm not leaving you here."

I manage to roll over on my back, letting the blanket fall away from my body. Looking up at Taya, I rasp, "I'm so sorry."

Taya sighs, lying down beside me on the stone cold floor. She gathers up the blanket, draping it over us. I let her twine her arms around me, her lips pressed to the hollow of my throat. "If I'm going to die, I want to die with you."

She's so naive and sweet. Does she not know, she has people who need her? Taya has a family -- a mom, a dad, a brother, two nephews. She has friends and people who care about her. She needs to live.

"You're being stupid," I manage to get out. "You don't want this virus, Taya. Trust me--" my words dissolve into a pained screech. It feels like I've just been impaled from the side, a sharp stick spearing my insides. I whimper, unable to move from the pain.

Taya reaches behind me, taking my hair out of its bun. She combs her long, thin fingers through it, removing bobby pins until it fans out around me on the floor. Tucking the blanket around me, she kisses my eyelids and whispers, "I'm staying with you."

But she doesn't, because suddenly I'm somewhere else and completely alone.

It's a small room, big enough to fit just two of me standing right against each other. Looking down, I realize I'm naked and shivering. The ceiling reaches two feet above my head. There's no door, no windows, just walls. But I'm not afraid of enclosed spaces. Why am I here?

Then the water starts trickling in.

My toes curl in, shying away from it. The puddle starts in the leftmost corner of my cage, seeping out of the navy blue wall. I can feel its icy cold tendrils reaching out for me, calling me to its freezing embrace.

I press myself to the wall, feeling the last of Taya's warmth leave me. Abandoned and shuddering with cold, I hug myself, feeling tears start in my eyes.

Before I can blink them away, they crystallize into ice. I cry out in pain as they shatter, falling over my body in biting ice shards. Frost climbs the wall, reaching the backs of my legs. I groan, succumbing to the hard scratches of cold that corrupt my body.

Something is happening to the water. It's reaching for me.

Hands, fingers, shiny and blue. They emerge from the puddle, pulling more water from the walls. I cry out as the hands close around my calves. They snake up my legs, over my knees, onto my thighs.

"Taya?" I call. Oh god, not this. I don't want to die like this, enveloped in cold with my bones frozen to stone. I need my baby, I need to hold her and kiss her and tell her goodbye. I can't go like this.

The hands climb over my hips. They have long, liquid fingers, nails of frost. I yell out in pain as they part my legs, freezing between them. One hand touches me, an icy finger forcing inside of me, then another and another.

The other hand moves on, climbing over my waist and onto my belly. The pit of my stomach freezes, chilling the very breath in my lungs. It crystallizes, cracks, stops. Choking, I watch the hand cup my breast, clamp over my shoulder. Oh, the other one hurts worse than any pain I've ever felt. The cold is such that it burns my insides, icicles splitting me open.

The frost spreads to my neck, my saliva becoming rock hard in my throat. I can't even whimper anymore. I feel lightheaded. Spots dancing in front of my eyes, I drop to my knees.

There are no words for the cold. It numbs me instantly as the water laps up over my thighs, dousing my legs. It prickles with cold, first, then it burns like white hot iron encasing my body. The hands snake around my throat, closing around my neck. The water rises. Over my stomach, my breasts, my shoulders.

Then my brain crystallizes, and bursts into a million shards of ice.