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The guard crouches low as I slump to the floor, already begging the stone cold floor to douse the flames licking through my veins. His breath kisses my cheeks in a teasing caress of minty-fresh coolness.
“The General sends his regards.”
If I didn’t know it before, I do now.
This is no joke.
* * *
I don’t knowhow long they leave me, I’m too trapped in my own prison of flames to be conscious of anything. My entire body is ablaze and it’s like the fire in the room is increasing the temperature by several degrees with every passing minute. The heat and my own terror have my body drenched in sweat which stings my eyes. I’m half crazy with the need to cool myself down somehow.
I pull off my trainers and socks.
The sports jacket comes off next.
Then my T-shirt and leggings.
But it doesn’t work. It feels like the more of my skin I expose, the more my flesh heats and burns. I'm melting. Stripped down to my sports bra and shorts. Frantic.
Desperate.
That’s when I spy the glass of water on the tray beside the food. There’s even ice bobbing in it. It’s like a mirage in the desert, a ship of salvation on the horizon of my desert island.
I snatch the glass up and it’s half gone, a bitter taste in my mouth, before sanity catches up with me.
“Stupid, Odi. Stupid, stupid, girl. Stupid little flower.”
The General always loved his games.
But I can’t help myself. The coolness of the water, the relief it brings, is addictive. Like a helpless marionette, I bring the glass to my lips and drink the remains. I’m an addict. A junkie. Unable to help myself.
I even take the ice cubes into my mouth one by one and crunch them, releasing more of The General’s Surprise into my system. Two out of the three, complete.
If I could, I’d weep at my own stupidity, at how weak I am.
Of course The General would never give me the full dose in one go. He preferred to see the side effect of each drug take hold of me one at a time. I’d bet anything he’s watching right now. Coming for me. Enjoying my burning agony.
I shake my head and the room lurches violently, threatening to empty the contents of my stomach once more. It’s no use, it won’t stop the drugs from working. And it’ll just mean more drugs will be added on top ‘just in case’. He stopped my heart once, giving me too much. After that I learnt not to throw up the first dose.
The desire, no, the need, to cool down reaches fever pitch and I begin to claw at my own flesh. As though somehow, if I could just remove the outer layer of my skin, I could make the blazing inferno within me quiet.
A door opens somewhere but I’m barely present. I’m trapped so deeply within my own labyrinth of pain that I don’t think I’ll ever get out. I know there has to be an end, but I also remember that things have to get worse before they can get better. Blood gathers under my nails but it isn't enough. It’ll never be enough.
A hand lands on my bare shoulder and I almost weep with relief.
“Please.”
“Shhh, we’ve got you. We’ll make it all better.”
The contact soothes something within me. The pressure pushes a calming balm through my veins.
“Please…heat…cool…”
“Come over to the box, it’ll help.”
“Can’t…stand…” Can’t stop scratching at my skin long enough to form a coherent sentence.
Kind hands scoop me into arms and I’m pressed to a chest that’s bare. The skin to skin contact is a cooling tonic and I burrow myself deeper into the ice. My saviour chuckles.
