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“Okay,” I say. He hands me a hair tie and they all watch me in silence as I twist my hair into a top knot so it won’t bother me when I’m lying down. Misha offers me his hand and I climb into the bed. None of them say anything when I stare at the ceiling. The fan whirrs and moves quickly, until the blades practically merge into each other.
Misha kneels next to the bed, his hand on my wrist. His grip around me tightens and I feel how warm his palm is. There’s a second where he hesitates, a shaky smile on his face. His eyes darken as he meets my gaze, his expression practically crumbling as he does. But he manages to swallow back his concern as he looks away from me, his lips a thin line.
“We’re going to start now,” he says. “I’m going to bind you to the bed.”
I don’t know where the rope comes from. I do know that there’s something cold and wet next to my leg. I realize, after a few seconds, that this is vaseline. Misha grabs it, spreads it over my wrist.
“I’m sorry if this hurts,” Misha says. He tightens the bindings until they feel like they cut off my circulation. Luke stares at us, his eyes looking jetblack instead of blue, a muscle tightening along his jaw.
Rei ties my left hand. This bed doesn’t have posts, so they must be tying me up to the bottom of the bed. My back hurts. I’m already exhausted. I don’t know if this is going to work.
Rei stands over me. “The bindings are in case you thrash around,” he says. “I don’t want you to accidentally hurt yourself. If you ever have a fever or start seizing, we’ll stop.”
“Okay.”
“And you need to tell us if you’re in pain,” Rei says. “It’s really important that we know that.”
“Anything else you need from me?”
Rei brushes the hair away from my forehead. “Just remember,” he says. “We’re here. No matter what.”
I want to hold his hand but I’m already tied up. There’s nothing I can do but lie here and wait.
I hear them say something to each other but I can’t make out what it is. They’re whispering to each other and it makes me feel so anxious. I wait a few seconds until Luke crosses himself, approaching me as he says a prayer under his breath.
As soon as he starts to pray, I feel a tingle all over my body. Luke kneels next to me, his thumb on my forehead as his lips move. He’s praying in a language I don’t understand, doing it so quietly I can hardly hear him.
And then he splashes some water on me and I clamp down on my lower lip so I won’t scream, no matter how much I want to.
But I’m not going to win this.
I’m trying to pace myself with deep, steady breaths, but I can’t do it.
There is no way for me to keep my breath study. There is no way for me to do anything but scream, each time a tiny drop of the water touches me, making me feel like I am getting burned. The whole thing is excruciating.
I expected pain.
I didn't expect pain like this.
I can Luke saying something again, another prayer, at least that's what I think.
It's hard to know, though, because I keep falling in and out of consciousness. Something in my head is pressing against my temple, knocking against the back of my head, as if it's trying its best to claw its way out through my eyes. I've never had a headache like this. I feel I can, no, like I need, to throw up, but I can hardly tilt up my head so I can at least aim when I puke.
When I look at Ray, hoping that he can provide some relief, he looks as scared as I feel. I blink again, and when I set my gaze on him, he doesn’t look like himself. His features look more distorted than they did from just his injury, his entire body covered by a weird red sheen.
It's extremely odd, like a caricature of a devil that you would find in a cartoon strip on Sunday. If I wasn't in so much pain, if I wasn’t feeling so nauseous, if I wasn't so scared, I would probably laugh at how absurd this all is.
But there's no way I can laugh right now, there's no way I can do anything but try and go to sleep because I want the pain to stop.
I need the pain to stop.
I close my eyes, trying to breathe deeply. When I open my mouth to scream again, I find myself throwing up all over the front of my body.
It’s fucking rough.
For a second, I think I’m going to be uncomfortable. I think this is going to be disgusting. It makes me gag, but luckily, I don’t feel it.
I have to admit, they're quick. They cleaned me up, they make sure that there is no vomit on my clothes or on my hair, but I'm still only half there. When I open my eyes, it’s hard for me to focus on anything at all.
