BLOOD AND BONE | rewritten

5

This time Kane was sure he was dying.

Of course, that was the same thought he had every time. But as he sat slumped in the single chair in the corner of his allotted room, his head in shaking hands, it had never seemed so true. Sweat had begun to bead on his forehead, juxtaposing his shivering body and leaking nose. Every muscle in his body ached, but not in the strained way that exercise brought about.

Tetranofoxtin went by many titles on the streets: Visage, Bonedust, Angel's Venom. But to Kane, it would always be the devil.

The comedown was never pleasant, but this was no longer just a comedown. This was withdrawal.

When he could peer past the drug's veil, he knew the high was not worth what he would suffer later if he tried to stop himself. Not that he could any longer. In the four times he'd forced himself to go through withdrawal, he never made it past the second excruciating day.

Kane let out a shuddering sigh, cursing himself for ever digging this hole. Soon, it may very well be his grave.

He supposed the only good thing coming out of this deal with the IMC was that there was no opportunity to be tempted into allowing the drugs back into his life. For better or for worse he was going to make it through withdrawal this time.

It had been years since Kane had been sober for longer than a week, and it made him wonder who he'd be without the drugs' loving embrace. After all, he turned to them to stave off the festering wound inside him. It was his mistake that they became part of that wound instead of its cure.

Kane's ability gave him strength normal people did not possess-it just never seemed to apply to refusing things that were bad for him.

Feeling as though his stomach was filled with insects, Kane doubled over and prayed he would keep the contents of his stomach. Since he hadn't eaten in a day, he would only vomit bile anyway. Turned over, the blood rushed to his head. The world was twirling while he remained still.

He was unsure how long he remained like that. For some time, it nearly felt as if he had the same cotton-headed effect that came with being high. Except this was unpleasant, as he was not high. Kane dreaded the way he seemed to walk the line between mental consciousness and unconsciousness while still physically awake.

It was probably not helpful that he had not gotten a wink of sleep since he'd been there. The withdrawal symptoms arrived an hour after sunset and hadn't left him alone since. When Kane roused the strength to lift his head again, the first golden rays of dawn were piercing through the barred window, which was open as wide as it could be to help with the hot flashes.

Sighing through his nose, Kane let his head slump back down and his too-dry eyes fluttered closed. What would the others do if they saw him in such a sad state? Or worse-what would the IMC do? Kane could hardly stand on his own, much less train where the officers could see. And he may have been stoic, but the combination of his symptoms would be too much to mask, even for him.

As if having sensed his worry the soldiers rapped on Kane's door. It was time to rise.

With the suddenness of their beckoning allowing Kane a minuscule burst of energy, he managed to get to his feet and stagger to the door. His feet felt like they didn't belong on the ends of his legs. His hand was jelly on the doorknob.

Three men with guns were standing before him, assessing him, looking at his hands to be sure he posed no threat. Though he knew it was only routine, it took all of Kane's self control not to make himself smaller under their attention. Being seen, especially like this, made his body feel too large and prominent.

"Are you waiting for an invitation, Shires?" asked the shortest of the three, his eyes narrowed as if Kane was planning something. "Close the door. You're going to the dining area."

"I don't feel well." The second sentence he'd spoken since arriving.

Kane hardly expected them to believe him, but the looks on their faces confirmed he appeared as sickly as he felt. The third soldier's gaze lingered a bit too long on the hand Kane stabilized himself with on the doorframe.

"Remain in your quarters. We'll check in later." And then they were gone.

Suddenly horribly exhausted by simply standing-by simply existing-Kane let himself fall back into the chair and wished for Visage to relieve him of this agony.