Page 101 of The Fates We Tame
But they thought about me. And that’s enough.
“I want to try something before it gets too dark,” Catalina says, gathering the weapons. “I want to see how good Sophia is with all these.”
Rae pats Catalina on the shoulder. “Wise to do it before anyone has had any alcohol.”
We step out into Theo’s yard. It’s large and backs onto some woods. It’s also handily set up for the makings of a target practice after Theo and Vex were out there letting off a few rounds this morning.
And I itch to get my fingers on those weapons, even though I can’t remember why.
26
SWITCH
“Then we’re all set,” King says. “In two hours, we leave for the docks. Usual formation. Two vans. One decoy. The weapons will have been unloaded by the time we get there. Spark and Halo, the two of you finalize the route we’re taking, and the rest of you get some food.”
He slaps the table of polished wood, and the sound ricochets through my head. About ten minutes ago, Niro began to blur around the edges. The window behind him started to fucking sparkle so bright, I could barely look at it.
Saliva pools in my mouth as that metallic tang takes over again.
I take the opportunity to hustle to the medic room and grab a container of heavy-duty painkillers, the kind of illegal black-market meds you can’t get over the counter, and pop two into my mouth before dipping my head to the faucet to suck in some water.
Sweat forms at my brow, and I grip the edge of the counter tightly.
“BAT,” I mutter. “Fucking breathe.”
I leave the water running and place my fingers beneath the flow until it is cold.
Then I grab two palmfuls and splash it over my face repeatedly.
“Fuck. Not now.”
I grab two paper towels from the stack and dry myself off. Unable to do much else, I turn off the light, stumble to the medical bed, climb on, and close my eyes.
Everything narrows to the pulling at my temples. To the agony crashing through my skull. To the flashes of white light I still see behind my eyes in the darkness.
Swallowing over and over, I refuse to give in to the urge to be sick.
Mind over matter. That’s all this is. I can will myself better.
Which is a fucking joke because I know I can’t.
What’s that famous saying? Healer, heal thyself.
If it were that simple, I would have been better months ago.
I don’t know how Sophia has gotten herself to the frame of mind where she can accept being as she is, even as she works to improve. When we returned from shopping, she pushed us both to do our rehab exercises.
I feel the weight of my recovery.
Sleep feels like an impossible task, but I keep my eyes closed in the hope the meds and the dark will take the edge off.
Memories of Sophia talking to me while I was at the rehab center come to me, and I grab my phone out of my pocket.
Squinting, I dial her number, but I get her voicemail.
“Hey, it’s Sophia. Sorry I’m not around to take your call, but if you leave a message, I’ll get back to you soon.”
I hang up.
