Sun Poisoned (The Sunshine Series) (36 page)

“
I know.”

“
So…” I pause so I don’t cry. “That’s enough of a reason to keep him away?”

When I face him ag
ain, he’s staring at his hands. “We don’t even know if you’re infected yet,” he says. “In a few days, you could be completely healed and Jade would never know.”

“
And I'd just have to make something up as to what happened to me during all that missing time.”

Silence. Then,
“I’m sorry.”

“
What if I am infected?” I ask. “What then?”

“
You probably aren’t.”

I take in a deep breath and let it out. I want to be angry that he keeps saying that, but I want to be more hopeful that he’s right.

“But if I am,” I barely say. “It would make sense. It would explain why I’m alive.”

“
How?”

“
Last time I had Michael’s blood in me, he did it in case I got away.” My eyes are starting to feel heavy now, but I want to keep talking. “It’s just like last time.”

“
No,” Myles says, but it’s barely above a whisper. “I don’t think that’s what happened.”

“
Then why would he do it?” I ask. “And why would you bring me to a place that’s protected from him if you didn’t think he would try to hurt me again?”

Myles says nothing. I want to believe it’s because he thinks I’m right, but I think it’s more because he doesn’t want to argue. Neither do I.

“Anyway,” I say, “in the off-chance that I am infected, what are we going to do?”

I want him to be closer to me, just for the comfort, but I refrain from asking.

“We have a few options.” He takes the cup from the nightstand, and instead of getting up to refill it, he just plays with it in his hands so he doesn’t have to look at me. “We could do the same thing we did last time,” he says, turning it over and over, like there’s some magical spell written by Dixie Cup on it. “There’s the last resort—turning you.”

He looks up, waiting for a response. I give him none.

“Or I could bite you whenever it comes to the surface.”

“
Like Evan and Ava?”

He nods.

“But that won’t solve anything,” I say. “Ava’s still infected, and Evan is too.”

“
By the time Ava dies,” Myles says calmly, quietly, like he’s had to explain this before. “She’ll be older. At least sixty. And Evan will outlast her, though I don’t know for how long.”

“
So you’re saying you’d want to wait for me to get old and die—still infected—and then you’d die?”

Myles opens his mouth, but I cut him off.

“And in the forty or so years between now and then, I’d have to live like Ava does? Getting sick and throwing up blood until you bite me? For the rest of my life?”

“
Don’t get upset,” he says in the least demanding tone I’ve ever heard. “It’s only an option.”

I ignore him.
“And then you’d die.”

He laughs a short, quiet laugh.
“Sophie, please,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m over four hundred years old. I think I can come to terms with my own death.”

“
Suicide.”

Now his eyes soften, like he touched part of me he didn’t mean to.
“Okay,” he says. “We don’t have to do that if you don’t want to.”

I turn my attention back to the ceiling now, my eyes fighting to stay shut as my brain fights to keep them open.

“I don’t want you to die,” I whisper. “
I
don’t want to die.”

I can’t see where Myles is because my eyes have finally won out and closed. He pauses for the longest second before gently pushing some hair away from my face.

“That’s not going to happen,” he says. “I promise.”

I swallow before opening my eyes.

“We should check your leg.”

All I want to do at the moment is go back to sleep, but I need to know what kind of shape I’m in more than any
thing else. I brace my arms on either side of me, prepared to sit up, but Myles pushes me slowly back into the mattress.

I resume my staring at the ceiling.

He shifts the blanket off of my legs, leaving the top half of my body covered. He then goes back to the drawer of the nightstand and I watch his every move. He takes out a cardboard box and rubber gloves come out of that. He wriggles his hands into the white latex and then sits down next to my leg again.

“
Does it still hurt?” he asks, slowly pushing up my pajamas and moving my calf to the left, then the right.

I can’t get a clear view, but I can see that it’s covered in white cotton.

“A little,” I admit. “More now that you’re moving it.”

He immediately stops.
“Sorry.”

“
It’s okay.” I hope.

Myles starts slowly unwinding the gauze from around my shin. We’re both quiet for the longest time.

Then he breathes out.

“
What?” I ask.

He takes his hands away, turns, and looks at me.
“You’re okay,” he says before smiling.

I inch up so I can see for myself. My entire leg is bruised up pretty badly, and there’s still little blue threads poking through what used to be the wound, but it's just a thick pink mark now. It looks like it’s a few weeks old rather than just a day.

“Whoa.”

“
Yeah,” Myles says, wiping at his face with his forearm. “I’ll take the stitches out, and then it’ll heal the rest of the way.”

I breathe out.

Myles stands again and walks over to the corner where the same red bag is from before. We’re quiet again as he walks back, and I can only see part of my leg where he has tweezers and a pair of tiny scissors, snipping and pulling the threads out.

“
Does it hurt at all when I do that?”

“
No. I can’t feel anything.”

Then he pulls on one last thread, causing the rest to come out. I can feel it, but it doesn’t exactly hurt.

“That’s it?” I ask.

He laughs a little.
“Yeah.”

I stare at the wound that is no longer a wound.

And then I watch as it slowly becomes a wound again.

The puffy pink line where the stitches were slowly separates. First it’s just a tiny smile of red, then it turns into a gaping frown.

“Myles,” I say, but he’s already looking.

“
Shit.”

The last time he said that, things didn’t end too well either.

Undecided

Chapter 16

“Moving your mouth to pull out all your miracle aimed for me.”—Neutral Milk Hotel

I wasn’t aware I passed out again, but I’m not exactly surprised. That comes when everything focuses again. I’m on my side. My ribcage, my stomach, and my throat are on fire. It’s like there are razor blades floating around in my bloodstream, and those razorblades have just come out of a furnace.

There are cold hands on my neck, keeping my head still. Behind me, more cold hands hold down my legs. I can’t see anything but blurry outlines of what are supposed to be people. There’s something cold and wet on my forehead.
 My hearing fades in and out, like it can’t tune into the right frequency. One minute there are muffled voices and I catch a word or two, but the next all I hear is white noise.

I don’t know how long I stay paralyzed this way. In pain, held down, not being able to hear or see what’s going on.

Eventually, everything rushes back in vivid detail.

Myles is in front of me, kneeling down. His dark hair hangs in his face like he’s been sweating. I hear him say that it’s okay. The pain disappears.

Everything is so quiet for a good two minutes.

Then there’s nothing but fire. Fire and darkness.

I’m coughing so much that I can’t breathe and some kind of liquid spills out of my mouth and onto the pillow next to me. I’m not sure if it’s from my stomach or my lungs, but I immediately stop caring.

Because I manage to prop myself up on my arms long enough to see what it is before my elbows give out.

Blood.

Dark red blood.

I’m pushing hands away that won’t budge and I’m crying, yelling when I can grasp onto enough air.

I’m aware now that Evan’s in the room. They’re talking to each other but I can’t make it out, and Myles is shushing me and saying,
“It’s alright.”

Like hell it is.

The pressure on my legs lets up as soon as I stop struggling against it, which isn’t hard to do because my body won’t listen to me. If it was, I would be getting up right about now and running. Just running.

“
It won’t work,” Evan says suddenly.

Another cramp rolls through me and I cough up more warm liquid.

“Shh.” It comes from Myles, but I’m not sure if it’s meant for me.

“
There is only one way. . .” Evan continues.

“
That’s enough, Evan,” Myles snaps.

“
She is too different,” Evan raises his voice slightly.  ”You know this and I know this. There is only one—”

“
I said enough,” Myles doesn’t raise his voice at all but the tone scares me.

As the pain in my body starts to subside, I watch as Myles stands. Evan moves toward the door. They don’t say anything. Myles is next to the bed, not taking his eyes off of Evan, and I can’t tell if they’re communicating in their heads or just staring each other down.

Then Evan speaks out loud, “I have to go take care of Ava.” He opens the door and is gone.

Without my screaming, it’s completely quiet.

“Sophie,” Myles says once the door has shut. He takes the pillow next to me and throws it onto the floor where I can’t see it.

“
I’m infected,” I say. “Aren’t I?”

He gulps.
“We have to try something soon,” he says, and that’s enough of an answer for me. His voice seems to bounce off of everything, including my throbbing temples. “I’m sorry.”

“
Why did he say that?” I ask, my voice sounding like it will fade away any minute. “I’m too different?”

Myles takes the cold washcloth from my forehead and sets it down on the night table. He’s staring at me like he’s looking for something. Waiting for more blood to shoot out of my mouth.

“It’s never moved this fast before.” But he’s not looking at me anymore. I can tell he’s lying and I can’t believe he thinks he can get away with it.

He glances at my face; he knows he’s caught.

“That’s bullshit.” My voice comes out louder now. I wish I could scream, but I have more to say, and I don’t want to risk losing my voice. “Are you serious?” I don’t care about the tears threatening their way to my face. “You’re going to fucking lie to me again?”

Myles stands. I’ve never seen that look on his face. Agitation
, anger, and sadness all rolled into one. He’s quiet, fidgeting with his hands as I stare at him.

“
I’m sorry,” I barely hear. “I am so sorry.”

I make sure my voice is even before I speak again.
“You told me that I could ask you anything. That there was nothing you wanted to hide.”

He comes closer to me again but doesn’t sit on the bed.
 

“
There are some things I can’t tell you,” Myles whispers. “There are things that I’ve
had
to lie about.”

“
What?”

“
Sophie,” he says, pausing to gulp again. “I’m really sorry,” he repeats. “I’m really sorry that I’ve lied and kept things from you. When this is over, we can work it out.” He glances at me for a brief second before staring at the floor. “But there are more important things we need to be talking about right now.”

“
Right,” I say, my voice as flat as I can make it when it’s this flimsy. “That’s real convenient,” I say. “You have me locked up in this hospital-place, I’m not allowed to call anyone, and secrets seem to be falling out of the sky around you,” now my voice is actually sounding like the yelling that I want. I hope it lasts. “How am I supposed to trust anything you say?”

Myles stares down at me but somehow avoids my gaze at the same time.
“You’re dying,” he practically whispers. “I think we should talk about how to stop it.”

That shuts me up mid-rant.

There are so many things one can say to someone else when they’ve been told that they’re dying. There’s the initial denial:
What? No I’m not
.

There’s anger:
What the fuck are you talking about
?

And there are more questions. Questions that I can’t even ask because before I have a chance, my leg, then my hips are cramping up, spasming to the point of convulsion.