More Pain, More Fire

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SOMETHING COOL AND damp presses against my forehead

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SOMETHING COOL AND damp presses against my forehead. My vision swims, my stomach rolls. The next second I'm rolling over and vomiting into a bucket that's held out for me. Softly spoken words of reassurance try to push their way through the haze.

The chills, the cramped muscles, the vomiting, all this purging is exhausting. I can barely stay conscious. The torment of withdrawal prevents me from drifting off entirely. I remain in limbo between sleep and consciousness, and it fucking sucks.

Eli's beside me, though, that much I know. He mops up the sweat along my face, keeps the bucket close. I'm pretty sure he's the one speaking to me now. His voice is low, rumbling and reassuring. Though I can't make out the words, he warms my blood, an anchor to hold me down and get me through this storm.

I know it's Eli because of the glimpses of bright eyes I catch, staring down at me with worry. Sometimes someone else is with him, although I can't focus enough to determine who it is. Not that I care about them. I only care about him. It's a shock that he's here with me. He could have--should have--walked away. I wouldn't blame him for leaving. 

But he's here, cleaning me up, making sure I have water. The only other thing I can seem to stomach is broth, though that's a hit or miss depending on my stomach's cooperation.

My body aches, my head pulses, and the fever is a scratchy blanket covering me. The coolness that brushes over my forehead and along my cheeks provides only a short reprieve from the fire under my skin.

And then I'm gripped by a nightmare.

A hand grabs my throat, choking me. My mom's laughter replaces the ringing in my ears, a piercing manic sound that haunts me to this day.

"You deserve this, Atlas," she sneers, "you deserve all the pain after what you did to me, you ungrateful brat."

More murmurs of reassuring words.

More pain, more fire.

I just want it to end.

××××

A trickle of sunlight wakes me up. For the second time, I find myself in an unfamiliar bed, although it's way more comfortable than Selena's was. It's even more comfortable than my own bed. It's like memory foam, a fluffy cloud to sleep on.

The light turns my lids red, causing me to roll onto my side with a huff. I hear someone shuffle next to me, the mattress tilting a bit as weight is added to the side.

"Atlas?"

His voice is gentle, barely a whisper. I peek my eyes open to see Eli's round, hazel eyes staring at me with a mixture of relief and worry. His lips twist up into a relieved smile as he reaches out and brushes the back of his hand against my cheek. The gesture is surprisingly comforting, and I find myself missing it when he pulls back.

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