ROGER (Read Until 7/31)

T W E N T Y - F I V E

"Ripping her out of there like that could have killed her! Are you crazy? Where's Matthews? Erica!"

Roger's voice blended with static in my ears. Just like old times. Only, this time, it was desperate, angry. His voice was followed by shouts from others, voices I couldn't make out.

What's going on?

"We had to do it!" someone else yelled.

My hands tingled; my body burned. I forced my eyes to flutter open, but that only brought an intense pain between them. Light, though blocked out by glass, made me squint. It took me a second, but I realized where I was; I was back in that room, laid on that bed.

"No!" Roger shouted back. "On whose orders?"

With trembling hands, I touched the headset still seated over my eyes. My fingers reached for the straps beside my ears, where Alex had latched it shut. It took one struggled pull to lift it off my head; right after, slam, it slipped out from my fingers and crashed to the floor.

"She was under too long! Both of you were in that world trying to play house, while the rest of us were out here dying!"

Play house? Who was dying?

I groaned and rubbed my eyes with closed fists. It hurt to do it; then I realized, everything hurt. From the tips of my fingers down to my toes, tiny needles stabbed through my skin, well into my muscles. I whimpered at the feeling.

"Hey, hey." When I opened my eyes, I saw Roger stood above me. He pressed his hands to my cheeks and checked my temperature. The glow of his eyes scanned over my face as he watched my reactions. That same glow slid down my body, looking at my chest, my legs; he used one hand to prod for pain.

I whimpered at each poke.

"Clara." He looked at my face again and moved hair from my cheeks. "Are you okay? How do you feel?"

"Sick," I breathed.

"Exactly." He hissed the word as he turned back around, prepared to yell again. That's when I saw Bessel standing in the room, hands behind him like he wasn't bothered at all by what happened. His eyes looked from me, to Roger, then back out the open door behind him, where people scurried down the hall. Alarms sounded in the distance.

"Look—" Bessel pointed at me, "—she needs to get up and out, no say so on your part!"

Roger stood in front of Bessel, chest to chest, but the older man towered over him, still. Both of their stares bore in the other's; lips pulled back in animalistic snarls.

Bessel opened his mouth to say something else, but Roger spoke first. "Who gave the order?"

"What does it matter?" Bessel rushed over to my bed and hoisted me up despite my cries. Roger reached to grab me, but Bessel turned my head first. His hands dug into my chin. "Look! She's fine! A little pale, but that doesn't mean she can't shoot at someone!"

Roger wasn't sure if he could just take me back. What if Bessel hurt me? "Put her down," Roger hissed. "Let her go."

"No," Bessel chuckled maliciously and shook his head, "can't you see the both of you are holding us back? These orders should've happened hours ago! It's time to move!"

I didn't expect him to put me down, but I didn't expect him to squeeze me either. His arms went around my waist, the other still around my shoulders to grip my chin. Roger was red in the face when Bessel's lips met my ear. "I hope you learned a lot in there, darlin', because the world's going to go kaboom."

My heart skipped a beat.

"Enough!" Roger rushed forward, one arm out. That was the hand that pushed Bessel back by his chin, knocking him into the bed behind me until he and the wheels slid across the floor.