Fury and Flame | 3

0 | 8

A R L O

      We'd only been kept in the compound for a day and a half, but it felt like an eternity to me. After the action we'd gone through, after all we'd done, it felt wrong to simply be sitting here and letting our new director take things into her hands.

      It was easier for me to think about our new problems with the ONNT than the most pressing of my issues: my slowly declining health. Oftentimes, I ignored it and pretended like I wasn't dying. It was easier to cope that way.

      But I hadn't taken the pills the doctor had given me yet today. I could always feel the weight of the sickness deep inside my body if I waited too long to take them. Sometimes it slipped my mind that I needed them once every day. I still wasn't used to the idea of my bleak future.

      After I swallowed both pills with a drink of water, I stood shirtless before the mirror. My eyes roved my own body, noting how my ribs still jutted out in awkward angles and how my grey eyes were smudged with dark circles underneath. I'd never taken much consideration into my physical appearance, but after seeing the half-dead look I was sporting now, maybe I should.

      I stared at myself for a while, holding eye contact with myself. The veins spreading from my chest were visible and I tried not to think about the lab's poison coursing through them.

      First, I made a mental list, I would eat more. That should not be a problem, as I tended to practically inhale food as it was. Second, I needed to sleep. At night, I would often lie awake, listening to the sounds of the compound. I'd always had too much energy; resting was not something I did well.

      I sighed and gave myself an exaggerated frown in the mirror, a look so dark that Kane would be jealous. If I wasn't careful, I might actually start being responsible. At that thought, I held back a shudder.

      Someone was walking up the hall towards the bathroom, I could hear the footsteps from very far away. One of my teammates was coming to annoy me.

      "Arlo-" Finn knocked on the partially-closed door and it swung open all the way. His light eyes glanced down at my shirtless self, most likely wondering what the hell I was doing in there.

     Even though I'd partially hoped it would be him—as he was fun to trifle with, I gave another frown when I took in his appearance. Contrasting my slightly insane, disheveled look, he wore neat clothes, as usual. Finn's eyes were a bright blue and his face held the youthful spirit of a healthy, young person. How dare he come around here looking attractive while I looked like a freshly-dead corpse?

      "Is...everything okay?" He asked, giving me a doubtful look, like he didn't want to know the answer.

      "Just peachy." I slipped the shirt back over my head. "I'm sick and dying. Literally."

      "Do you want to talk about it?"

      I scoffed. "What is there to talk about? I'll be dead in less than six months. Hopefully less, with the way things are going now-"

      "Don't say that," he interrupted, waving his hands around to stop me. "The ONNT will find a cure for you."

      "You know I don't think optimistically."

      "Yes, you tend to be quite dramatic and pessimistic, I've noticed."

      My expression changed from a frown to daring. I caught a glimpse of the familiar maniacal gleam in my eyes in the mirror. "So, why were you looking for me? Other than to see me half-naked, of course." I left the bathroom and leaned on the wall opposite him.