TOXIC ~ STEVE ROGERS [1]

Chapter Two

It was a couple of days before it happened that the pins and needles began. It started out as a tingle in my hands, an uncomfortable itch. That night, I had my first nightmare in years.

I woke with a tight chest, legs tangled in sheets, sweat like a snake down my spine, hands trembling and gasps echoing in my room. That night it was cloudy, and no light of the moon was there for me to hold on to. I sat up, heaving, the images flashing through my mind like a TV on repeat. My throat was dry and sandy, so I swung my shaking legs over the side of the bed and made my way, stumbling, out my door and into the kitchen. My hands buzzed, like electricity was running in my veins. A side effect of my nightmare, so I thought. Switching on the light, my feet lead me to the cupboard above the sink where we kept cups. Taking one, I filled it with water, taking every step methodically, like a well-rehearsed routine. Turning, I leaned against the counter and sipped, the cool liquid sliding down my throat. A creak filled the air, and Bris bedroom door opened, and her slim figure appeared from the darkness. Her shirt and shorts were paint splattered, and she rubbed one hand over her face, yawning.

"What are you doing making such a racket this early in the morning, mate?" she said tiredly, her Australian accent twanging harshly in my ears. Three years ago, we had both connected over not being American, and her accent was hard on the ears, and her language even more so.

"Couldn't sleep," I said, not mentioning the fact that I hadn't actually been that loud, but that Bri was an incredibly light sleeper.

"If youre going to be so bloody loud, you would be better off going outside to drink your water," she said, leaning against the counter opposite me. My lips turned up at the corners.

"Would you rather I get mugged instead?" I joked.

"Well, at least there would be some peace and quiet around here for once." She folded her arms and sighed. "I heard you tossing and turning about. Had a bad dream?"

"I guess you could say that," I mumbled, my grip in the cup getting tighter.

"Were they about?" Bri trailed off, not wanting to say the words out loud in case I exploded or something.

"What else are they going to be about Bri?" I said harshly. She blinked but was otherwise unaffected by my outburst.

"Maybe you should call your brother. He could help," she suggested, choosing her words carefully. I stared at her.

"I'm not calling my brother. I'm sure he has other things to worry about than me," I replied, rolling my eyes.

"I'm just saying," she drawled. "It could be a good idea."

"I am not calling my brother!" I said loudly, slamming the cup down on the bench with a thud. Several hairline cracks spread out from underneath it, snaking along the black granite. I stared, shocked, until Bri pulled me away from it.

"If you weren't so bloody stubborn, I might try convincing you. But there's no point," she said. "I'm going back to bed. And for goodness sakes, don't be loud." She padded back to her room, shoulders slumped in defeat. I might have felt joy at my victory it hadn't been for the guilt at yelling at Bri. I tried hard to control my anger but sometimes it exploded. We rarely fought, but when we did I always ended up feeling terrible for being the bad guy.

Leaving my cup over the cracks in the bench, I strode back to my room and shut the door quietly, careful not to make too much noise. Next door, I heard muffled talking. Bri must have called Max, as she did every time we fought. He was intensely loyal, and even though it was early morning he could be counted on to pick up the phone.

My stomach churned with bitter jealously. Bri and Max had something I had always wanted, and maybe there had been a time I could have had it too. But that was two years over, and there was no point mulling over things that had been.

My hair was knotted, so I ran a brush through it, long white strands littering my carpet as they fell. It was a reminder of how much I stood out, with my pale skin and white blonde hair. The only thing to tie me to my family was my chocolate eyes, a deep dark brown with flecks of gold that glinted in the sunlight. But even with them, I stood out like a sore thumb next to the rest of my family. Luckily, they were far away, so I didn't have to worry.

I looked in the mirror, the semi darkness obscuring my vision. My reflection started back at me, and my eyes flickered to the pink scars that crept up my shoulder, tracing my collar bone. The lighting made my sharp cheekbones look gaunt, and my arched eyebrows, somehow dark despite my blonde hair, were in need of plucking. I twisted, eyeing my side profile, sucking in my toned stomach. I wasn't fat, but I wasn't skinny either. I had thick curves of almost solid muscle, built up over years of combat training and regular exercise. Bri, on the other hand, was thin as a stick and could eat as much as she wanted and never gain weight. I, on the other hand, worked hard to stay the way I was. Although, if I thought about it, lately I hadnt been working out as much as normal, and I was the same, if not thinner than before. Maybe it was this mystery sickness with the headaches and the pins and needles that was causing me to lose weight.

There was an unfinished essay on my desk that desperately needed completion, and since it was due that morning I should have picked up my pen and started writing. It was normal for me to leave things to the last minute, but never this late. I had felt so brain dead at the end of every day that I never seemed to be able to get work done. Maybe I was too stressed? Maybe I needed a holiday, who knew. Either way, I knew I wasn't going to get that essay done on time.

Pins and needles stabbed my hands and wrists, rushing up and down the muscle. I shook them, but it only seemed to make them worse. I rubbed my eyes, suddenly itchy, and when I looked in the mirror again they were bloodshot, red veins snaking around the white. With heavy limbs I crawled into bed, fatigue taking over my body all of a sudden. A headache sliced through my temples, but I was already on my way to sleep before I could take some of the aspirin on my bedside table. But if I hadnt fallen asleep so soon, I would have noticed there was no aspirin on my bedside table, only three empty boxes littering the floor, evidence that something wasnt right.

Something was definitely not right.