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Teacup shakes me awake the next morning. I shove her off and glare at her but she doesn't seem to mind. She seems to like the banter we have going on between us, though I'm not sure why. Whoever she had as role model growing up must have been brutal.
I get dressed, stand at attention at the foot of my bed and thank the lord that Teacup actually put her hair up this time. It doesn't seem to matter, anyways, because Reznik stomps over and screams in my face about the nonexistent wrinkle in my bed. I stare at the wall on the other side of the room and wait for him to finish his ear-splitting yells.
He lands a blow to my stomach-- Zombie told me that he has a soft spot for stomachs-- and then moves on to Dumbo, whose ears are 'just too big' this morning. I feel bad for the boy. He seemed nice. He didn't deserve that.
Sucks, is my next thought. None of us deserved any of this and look where we fucking are. Doesn't matter who deserves what-- you get what you fucking get. That's just how life is now.
Nugget is nagging me on the way to the yard and I want to hit him. He's a little kid and I get that I probably remind him of his bigger sister but I don't care. He needs to grow up quick or there is no way he will make it without her.
I take my time doing my laps this time because I don't want Reznik's attention. He tends to call out those who do better than everyone else and although I wouldn't mind the praise, I feel sick to my stomach and I know he would make me do laps until I threw up if he caught wind of it.
I decide that falling into the middle next to Teacup, who is the only one-- besides Poundcake-- who doesn't talk while doing the laps, is the best decision. The silence was the one reason why I decided to stay next to her. She doesn't speak unless she's telling Tank to fuck off.
We have that in common.
Breakfast is canned beans and hard bread. I don't mind that half as much as I thought I would, but that might be because I know what beans are. I don't know what the meat is that they're feeding us, and I'm scared that Dumbo may have been right and I'm eating human.
Despite this, I get halfway through the food before my stomach twists and I feel like I'm going to vomit. I push the plate towards Oompa without a second thought, my eyes fluttering shut as I force myself to breathe through my mouth.
The cafeteria smells of spoiled milk and body odor, which doesn't help my stomach issue. When Dumbo says I look green, I tell him Tank's face is making me ill. This shuts everyone up because they don't want another fight. I take that as a win.
Ghost - 1, Squad 53 - 0.
Reznik makes me do more knuckle push-ups during hand to hand combat. Twenty, at first, but then I slip and he makes me do ten more. I can hardly keep the contents of my stomach where they belong and I can feel the bile rising in my throat. When I finish the push-ups my entire body is shaking and sweat is dripping down my back, a disgusting feeling that makes my stomach twist even more. I smack Zombie's hand away when he moves to help me up.
The second meal is even harder to put down, though I know I should eat as much as possible in order to get through the two-mile run we have after lunch but none of it wants to make it past my lips. Finally, after forcing myself to ignore the nauseous feeling, I manage to get the vile burger down without vomiting. I choke down the water and cover my burning face with my hands. No one seems to notice my discomfort and if they do, they probably put it down as the aftermath of thirty knuckle push-ups.
Zombie settles into the spot beside me on the two-mile run. His brows are dipped down in concern but his eyes are ahead and there's about a foot of distance between us. I can feel myself getting irritated by his presence seconds after he arrives, but he speaks up before I get the chance.
"You good?"
"How many fucking times do I have to--"
"You look like you're about to pass out, private," Zombie says, and I think he knows I only listen to him when he's acting like Squad Leader Zombie and not actually Zombie. "So I'm gonna ask you again. You good?"
"Perfectly fine," I grit out, even though my head is pounding and I really do feel like I'm going to pass out. Why would I tell him that, though? He only needed to act like he cared. That didn't mean that he actually did.
He forces a smile. "Good. I don't want to have to carry your ass back."
And then he falls back into last position. I can't help the breathy laugh that escapes my lips, and I screw them together seconds after letting it out. How dare he pretend to care, make me laugh, and then leave. How dare he be a nice person in the midst of this chaos. How dare he still have feelings, emotions, the ability to be touched and to laugh and to trust.
Fuck you, Zombie. Fuck you for still feeling human after everything you've been through.
__
"Go get some rest, private," Zombie mumbles into my ear when we arrive back at Barrack 10 for free time. He seems to have noticed everything about me today-- the green complexion, the tossing and turning of my stomach, the flushed cheeks and slightly feverish forehead despite having finished my push-ups hours ago. He noticed that I gave my food to Oompa at supper instead of finishing off the canned peaches that I love so much. I don't know how he figured out my love for them, but he seemed to.
Or maybe I was paranoid because I haven't had someone care about me in months.
I take his advice nonetheless and move to sit on my bed, after changing into my shirt and underwear, to stop my wobbling knees. I won't let the squad see me ill, however, so I opt for shining my already shined boots instead of lying down and resting.
Nugget asks me if I'm okay and I want to punch him for giving a shit, too. I don't know what it is with this squad but they seem to care a lot more than anyone else. It was getting on my fucking nerves.
I'm in the middle of shining the curve of the heel when my vision starts to shake. I feel the boots slip from my fingers and fall to the floor with a loud bang and then suddenly there's a cool feeling beneath my thighs and the flats of my feet.
The tips of my fingers flicker over the cement beneath me as my head lulls forward. Darkness. Whispering. Footsteps. Zombie talking. Asking if I'm okay. Head pounding. Hands shaking. Heart racing. What the fuck is going on?
"Dumbo, you're the medic. Do something!" Teacup shouts, and I hear her stomp her little foot in irritation.
"Fuck off, I'm fine," I mutter out, but it's slurred. Suddenly I can feel the fear instilling itself into the pit of my stomach and the nauseous feeling returns.
"Bring her to Dr. Pam," Flintstone orders.
"You're not in charge, man." Dumbo sighs. "Zombie, what do we do?"
Someone touches my bicep tenderly and my eyes snap open. I move away sluggishly, the area of my skin aching like someone had burned me. "Don't touch me."
His face scrunches up in disbelief and annoyance. "Why can't you ever admit that you need help?"
"None of your goddamn business." He stands to leave. Sofia's hand flies out to stop him, clutching onto his rough pant leg so that he is the only one to detect the movement. Her heart flutters and she is silently begging for him to not leave her alone, but Ghost is trying to shove her back into her cage.
Zombie freezes for just a moment, and then his hand is over mine. A cold palm over the one aching with fever. Comforting.
When I feel better, I'm going to kick myself for trusting him to take care of me right now.
"Dr. Pam?" He whispers just her name, like he knows my head is about to explode.
I can barely hear him over the hammering of my heart and the anxiety clamping on my limbs. "N-No, I--"
A foggy film covers my senses and I can feel my body go limp and then I'm falling and then I'm gone.
