Part 19 (1/2)

When I thought about anything, really.

There was another white pill on the tray. I took it without even thinking, anything to make my skin turn back to normal. The door was still closed and locked. I guess that was Rawe coming to check on me. Since she feels like she can do a half-a.s.s job caring for me, I have decided to do the same with this entry. The only reason I'm writing is because there's something I want to remember.

There's something I've realized I can never forget.

I've tried everything I could think of to bury it, like the baby or whatever it was that had been inside me and never was.

But burying it is not enough.

What I want to remember, what I need to remember, is that no matter what I do, I will never be the same.

8 f.u.c.king Days to Go W hen I woke up it was dark and I'd forgotten where I was. For a moment, I did think I was back in the clinic, my brother about to open the curtains around my bed, look at me with his sad smile and ask me if I was ready to go home-the fleabag motel room we rented-where I bled and sweated all over the sheets.

I sat up in bed. I could see that my locked door was open and the light in the hallway was on. I could see through the windows outside that it was dark. The tray from the day before was gone. Maybe Rawe had actually come to check on me instead of leaving food and slinking away like a scared servant. Maybe she was out there waiting for me now.

I hoped she had some water. I was thirsty, very, and I realized it was the first thing besides itchy that I'd felt in hours. I hoped it meant that maybe the itching was getting better.

I put on the clean uniform she'd left for me and stepped out of the room. I checked both sides of the hallway: no Rawe, no Nerone, no n.o.body-empty. I grabbed a bottle of water that had been left on the table and gulped it down so fast it hurt.

The door to Ben's room was open, too, but he wasn't there, and his bed was made. How long had I been sleeping? Had I really just slept through an entire night and day? How tired must this place have made me that I could stay asleep in daylight with my skin on fire, my head full of confused, terrible feelings? I guess Rawe had succeeded in her attempt to break me. My body, at least, was done.

Ben must have already gone back to his cabin. I wondered if he had come in and watched me sleep before he left. If so, he would have probably seen my fists clenched, my face tight. That was how I woke up every morning, like I wanted to tear up the air around me like paper.

Or maybe he had left without even checking on me. Maybe I had finally succeeded in pus.h.i.+ng him away. I felt that familiar emptiness in my stomach, craved it, knowing it was the only thing that would keep me safe.

Before I left the infirmary I took another shower, cleaning off the calamine lotion that had dried on my skin like old pink cake frosting. In the shower, my skin felt less itchy than it had yesterday and was healing, from what I could see. I got out, dried myself off, reapplied more calamine lotion, and got dressed.

I left the infirmary door wide open and walked in the dark back to my cabin, a bottle of lotion under my arm. I was more than halfway back when I realized I hadn't even bothered to check the medicine cabinets in there for real drugs. Was I really too far gone to even want to get f.u.c.ked up? Or was some part of this weird place working?

The air was full of that sweet pine tree smell, like the needles had been tossed with sugar and cooked in an oven. I walked quietly back into the cabin, but the door still creaked as I closed it. Nez didn't stir in her cot. She was out like she'd been hit in the head. Whatever training they had done that day and the day before had put her into a coma.

Even though it felt like I'd been through h.e.l.l, at least I'd missed that.

I slipped onto my cot and could see Troyer was still awake, lying in bed, her eyes wide like bowls of milk with two blueberries in the middle. I did a small wave and pulled my sleeping bag up and around me, realizing that it was weird to feel comfortable here. That when I thought of leaving the infirmary, even though I could have gone anywhere, could have left the grounds if I had the guts to disappear into the night and turn into a different person on the other side, I came back here.

To this.

Troyer wrote something on her pad and showed it to me. Where have you been?

”Infirmary,” I whispered. Better to say that than, The place of my nightmares. The place I wished I could pretend had never existed. The place that took me back to the place in my mind that I wish had never existed.

You okay? she wrote, like she could tell.

”Compared to what?” I whispered.

She shrugged.

”Exactly,” I said, turning away from her and trying to go back into the nothingness of sleep. She was trying to be nice, I guess, trying to make me feel better. Unfortunately, even coming from her, I was way beyond that.

7 f.u.c.king Days to Go I woke up still in my uniform, sweating in my sleeping bag. I gasped and looked around. I was so hot that I wondered if the rash had gotten worse. So hot that I wondered if the fever I had after my time in the clinic had come back.

I must have looked insane, because Troyer got out of her bed and put her hand on my shoulder and squeezed. I guess her way of saying, You're okay, you're awake, you're here.

Not like it mattered.

So what if I was here?Was here really better than the clinic when it was obvious I would never escape it?

Nez rose up out of her sleeping bag and stretched-her brown arms and neck reaching toward the ceiling like tree branches.

”Oh goody,” she said, furrowing her brow, ”Ca.s.sie's back.”

”f.u.c.k you, too, Nez,” I said.

Troyer let go of my shoulder and sat on her bed.

”Already starting things out the way we left them,” Nez said.

”Well, I haven't changed and my guess is you haven't either,” I said, trying to match her expression. Even though I had changed. Being locked up in the infirmary had unlocked something in me. Something I wasn't sure I would be able to contain anymore.

”How was the infirmary? Get a lot of rest?” Nez asked, her last word hissed on the s, extending it, her way of letting me know that she and Troyer had not.

I could feel Troyer's head moving back and forth between us, like she was a cat watching a bird fly from one end of the cabin to the other.

”It was hard to sleep with your boyfriend trying to break into my room the whole time,” I said, hating myself for it.

Nez's mouth opened, her chin almost touching her chest.

”So, no, not too much rest,” I said, embellis.h.i.+ng the s with my own hiss.

Nez's eyes went smaller, the black b.a.l.l.s in them turning to thin dashes. ”You're a liar.”

”That would be easier, wouldn't it? For all three of us,” I said, not dropping my gaze. ”But no, I'm not.”

It was bad enough I didn't know how to deal with Ben, that after what happened in the infirmary, it appeared he didn't know how to deal with me. But now I was using him like this.

”You were probably delirious from your flesh-eating virus,” Nez said, brus.h.i.+ng her hair so hard I thought it would scream.

”Save it,” I said. ”Oh, and Ben doesn't say 'Hi.'” I pulled myself out of the oven of my sleeping bag and gave my left arm a quick scratch, then scratched the right one. Whatever Rawe had given me was working-my skin only looked like it had been sauteed in oil for ten minutes instead of for an hour.

Troyer was smiling at me like she was waiting for me to give her a piece of candy. ”What'd you guys do yesterday?” I said. I could have asked about the day before too, but this was Troyer and I knew she would need to write it down. I wasn't in the mood to wait for her to pen a novel.

Troyer scribbled on her pad and handed it to me: Packed. A look of fear settled on her face, the same look she got when she had to go into the canoe alone with Stravalaci.

”Packed what?” I asked, scratching at my arms again. My legs didn't feel itchy. It was progress.

”Oh-” Nez laughed. ”You'll see. I almost couldn't sleep thinking about your reaction.”

Rawe came out of her room, a backpack secured to her back. She didn't look at me, didn't even mention that I had returned. Maybe she was mad at me. Or whatever you could be toward someone who was doing everything she could to keep you out of her head.

”Take a good look around the cabin,” Rawe said, staring at the front door, ”because it's the last time you'll see it.”