Handled

Chapter Twenty-Four

I shivered awake. 

My whole body screamed for me to go back to sleep, but someone was banging loudly on my door. 

I wrapped the blanket tighter around me, it had only been two days but I could feel death. This had to be the end for me. 

I sat up slowly, blinking into the darkness. 

I had kept all the lights off, just incase anyone wanted to drive by and guess if I was here, so that led to a Netflix binge on my phone. 

Tissues were scattered all over the floor, surrounding my sad new home on my couch, I couldn't get comfortable in my bed, either too hot or too cold. 

Shit, I'd forgotten to eat. 

I stood slowly as the banging started up again, my whole head swimming on my shoulders as I struggled to stay focused on the door. 

Maybe it was Darla to bring me some food, hadn't I texted her? Or maybe that was a dream. 

Probably a dream. 

I stumbled to the door, tightening my blanket over my head and swaddled around my body, before slowly turning the locks and peeking through the crack. 

All I saw was a flash of angry steel, before the door went flying out of my hands, sending me stumbling backward on my ass, in a puddle of blanket. 

Silos has always looked like a greek god straight from a movie, but now he might as well come forward as Zeus as he stared down at me in a beautiful light of pure rage. 

The darkness outlined him, but the light from the hallway basked him in a supernatural glow, but I could be hallucinating. He stood in a wide stance, his legs in a pair of grey sweatpants, his strong top covered in a tight black shirt, and his face. 

I don't think he ever looked so fucking angry. 

He was stoned face, of course, but his eyes held hell's fury. 

Fuck me. 

He flicked the lights on at the door, making a sad little squeal leave my lips as the lights burned my eyes. I squinted to stare at him, standing above me. 

His nostrils flared as he looked around my apartment, the tissues on the ground, the half empty cough medicine bottle I'd been chugging whenever I remembered. 

Clothes thrown all over the place, everything was a mess. 

Then he turned back to me, his eyes raging as he stared down at my pitiful self. 

I pouted as his lips tightened, "Vienna" he started on a deep breath, like he was begging for some patience, I winced, "what the fuck" he growled, his voice rising. 

I could already feel my lip wobbling, the dehydration and body pain making me a bitch. 

"I dropped you off to your Grandmother's house, three days ago" he snarled, well I guess it was three instead of two days, "I've been calling you non-stop" I had most definitely put my phone in do not disturb, "and worried fucking sick" he continued glaring down at me, "I've called everyone I know looking for you, and no ones visited you or heard from you" I winced again, "I finally go to your Grandmother's home and she says she hasn't even laid eyes on you" he snapped. 

I let my head drop, my nose completely useless on my face since it was so stuffed, "I'm sorry" I moaned out, between a croak and a sob. My shoulders shook as the tears poured out, "she makes me drink hot sauce, I didn't want to go there" I continued like an idiot, completely out of control, "I just want to die alone, let me die" I sniffled, rolling onto my hands and knees and trying to crawl back to my death sofa. 

Strong arms suddenly flipped me over onto my back, before those storm filled eyes shackled me to the ground. "You're not dying on me" he snapped, "you should have let me take care of you in the beginning" he reprimanded, anger on his face.

I didn't have a chance to blink, more less fully digest what the swimming image of what Silos had said,  before he was sweeping me into his strong arms, and laying me back down on the couch. 

I blinked stupidly at him, "you can't t-touch me! You'll get sick, too" I sighed. 

He didn't even give me a second look, before grabbing all of my tissues that were scattered around me. 

I watched him open mouthed, clean up the area I had infected like it was nothing.  

He stood up, staring down at me, "I don't get sick" he muttered, before carrying the mess into the kitchen and dumping it into the trash can. 

"Next you're going to say that you sparkle in the fucking sunlight."

"I don't get it," he muttered, his eyes wandering quickly and efficiently around my open kitchen, before he began opening the fridge and cabinets. 

I sighed, narrowing my eyes at his muscled form, "obviously a Twilight reference."

"I don't know what that is," he answered back quickly, still not looking at me as a frown grew on his face. 

I stared at him from under my blanket, hidden away from the lights, "Twilight. The movie. With the vampires. If you don't know what I'm talking about then I'm actually going to be sick."

"Sick-er?" 

"Not funny."

"I don't know what you're saying. Why do you not have any food? What have you been eating?" he paused finally looking over at me. 

I pressed myself deeper into my couch, refusing to make eye contact, as I felt his silent anger rising again. 

I mumbled something into my blanket, trying not to let his anger spike my nerves. 

"Speak" he snapped from the kitchen. 

"I'm not hungry!" I cried out, trying not to wince at the stoney expression of murder that shadowed his face.

He pointed a strict finger at me from across the room, "you're going to eat, all of it. No wonder you can barely stand, if you don't eat what do you think is going to happen" he growled at me. 

I pouted into the couch, like a scolded dog, "I don't know, can you stop yelling at me please" I whined. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes, "you're lucky I brought groceries over here" he growled before stomping back to the door, where I had completely ignored the bags he'd brought. "Have you taken any medicine?" he asked. 

I squint my eyes at the nearly empty bottle of cough medicine, I couldn't even remember the last time I had taken any of it, but if I'd been here as long as he said then who knew.

I look back to him with a wince. 

The glare he leveled at me was enough to let me drop my head into my couch with a defeated whine. 

The sounds of pots and pans clanging together as Silos moved around the kitchen lulled me back to sleep in a sticky sweat. 

I hate being sick. 

I hate everything.