The White Wolves

Crying

Maya

The second night was hell compared with the relative peace of the first. There was no slumber that night, no peace in the darkness. I was hurt then and there will be no reversing the changes that the night brought. The day, by comparison, was pleasant, Shuri found a pile of board games in a neighbouring room and distributed them between the beds of the despairing and destitute forgotten children. This action caused me, Bucky, Shuri and the five year old boy whose name I learned was Jamir to play a laborious game of monopoly and have a connect four tournament. Jamir won the latter, to the indignation of the over-competitive Bucky.

We had just began the second game of the dreaded, game of property ownership and mortgages when T'Challa's negotiations ended for the second day in a row. He walked relatively calmly through the main doors, but his face shot daggers into me and shattered my hope into a thousand irretrievable pieces. I was not going to set my weary eyes on the my friends' homeland tonight, or tomorrow and probably never. I would be stuck in this hell until a group of pompous, grey haired politicians decided that my life was worth more to them than the prospect of a living weapon. T'Challa sank to the floor in the dust filled corner, his youthful head in his hands forcing me to reconcile with the fact that he was in fact not that much more of an adult than me or Shuri. He was a kind man in a world of ruthless leaders, his blood as much a curse as a blessing. Okoye followed him in, her glistening spear fully extended, her expression, while the king's was despair, was raging and untamable.

"People like those men remind me of the horrors our ancestors faced. Colonisers, the lot of them," Okoye vented in her rage slamming her spear against the floor sending a crack spider webbing across the tiles. This brought a smile to my face that wouldn't appear again for some time.

Not wanting to know what these men had said to cause such anguish among the new defenders of my rights from my own elected representatives, we continued our pointless game, with fake money and only our pride to lose. I had just landed on Bucky's Mayfair for the second time and was forced to mortgage my own Leicester Square and Oxford street to pay him off, when 10 doctors came through the slightly dulled white doors, their scrubs standing out against the almost creme walls. Each doctor was armed with a wicked looking syringe equipped with a three inch needle, one made their way to each bed and barked out inaudible instructions to each translator. A female doctor, clothed in a quite flattering pair of burgundy scrubs approached my bed causing Bucky to tense on my right and Shuri to turn her attention to Jamir.

Without asking permission to touch me she roughly rolled back my covers, exposing the lower half of my gown and my, now shivering, bare legs to the watchful eyes of Bucky. There was no, "This won't hurt a bit" or "Don't worry it will be over in a second" before the needle was plunged into my pale flesh.

The needle pierced my thigh.

Bucky flinched.

Inside my head, I screamed.

Outside my head, I was silent.

The plunger was hastily compressed.

The needle removed.

The covers replaced.

The bedside vacated.

The tear fell.

Past Bucky's head I could see Shuri, her face pained at the prospect of what had to be done. That doctor, male and clothed in snot green scrubs, whispered something into Shuri's ear and she passed the message on to the trembling Jamir, no doubt making it more comforting for the child. I did not like the doctors face being so close to hers. Him being close enough to hurt her. To my relief he backed away from her and proceeded to role up the boys sleeve without even a whimper from the child, Shuri was good, and plunged the slightly shorter needle into his upper arm. The doctors left, leaving destruction in their wake.

His upper arm. My thigh. A shorter needle. A different substance being forced around his body than was being forced around mine. Panic and adrenaline joined the chemicals in my bloodstream. The monopoly board, that was balanced on my legs, cascaded to the floor. Shuri whipped round. Bucky grabbed my wrist tenderly with his metal arm. Okoye and T'Challa were on their feet, her stick a spear once more.

Their concerned faces beggan to go hazy around the edges, as Suri inquired, "Maya?" Her panic looked equal to my own. "M-mine w-was d-iffer-ent," I managed to choke out, my vision becoming more and more clouded. T'Challa beckoned to his armed guard and they stormed out to.... inquire, I guess. My indecision scared me I always was sure about my deductions, that was what made them all the more convincing.

Agony spiked throughout my body but was focused in the two points on my back that had only previously ached. It was like my own blood had been replaced with lava and it was burning me from the inside. The pain in my back was as excruciating as having  two red hot pokers  pressed against your back, branding you forever.  It came in spikes, like my blood and the pokers were plunged into ice cold water for a minute or two before slowly being heated up again in an industrial furnace. 

Shuri
She convulsed on the bed, the only thing that stopped her from crashing to the floor was Bucky's hand clamped firmly around her wrist. I tentatively made my way closer to her, wishing with all my heart for it to stop, for this thing to stop hurting her and for it to hurt me instead.  Take me, leave her alone. Stop hurting her.

Stop making her cry.

Please just stop.

Bucky
It hurt. It hurt me to have to see my new friend in pain. It hurt to be able to do nothing but struggle to restrain her arm so she didn't hurt herself. She was strong, just like Jamir, this was clear as my metal arm whirred and clicked. The bedclothes were on the floor after a minuet of the  shaking and yet still no doctors came with medication and pain relief.

The only thing that could help her was time. The convulsions stopped after about five minutes and then the fever began. In a way it provided respite, respite from the violence of the pain. My metal hand stayed firmly around her wrist. I remembered the sweat that coated her forehead when we first arrived and how it hadn't shown up since as perspiration began to leak from her body at all points.

After the fever, came the shivering.

After the shivering, came the screaming.

After the screaming, came the whimpering.

After the whimpering, came the crying.

After the crying, came the sleep.

Maya
All I wanted was for the night that felt like forever to end. For the gut wrenching agony to end at last.

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