afflicted

6

When she cracked her eyes open, they burned like acid had been poured into them. She tried to blink away the sting, tears welling in her eyes. She was on her back against something soft. The ceiling slowly came into view as she blinked, and was lower and nicer than the ceilings of her cell. Was she dreaming again?

She wasn't cold anymore, and she wasn't sure whether to trust that as a good sign. Her eyes ached, pain shooting through her eye's nerve endings every time she looked around. Her arms were above her head, legs straight out. She tried to scratch her nose.

Shrouding panic covered her as she realized all four of her limbs were tied to the frame of someone's bed. She was in a clean white shirt and sweatpants. The pants were too large for her, and the waistband was rolled a few times to accommodate the slack.

Someone had changed her clothes. Had Azriel... bile rose in her throat, burning and acidic. She swallowed it quickly, taking a deep breath through her nose. Had he touched her while she was unconscious?

Her mouth wasn't as dry as she remembered it being. And while painful still, the throbbing in her head had eased. The phlegm in her chest had mostly cleared and her skin felt clean. Her hair was damp and brushed on her scalp.

Her head shot up when the door to the small room creaked open. The door was wooden. In fact, most of the room was made up of wood. A sturdy oak dresser and the small bed she lay on were the only contents of the room.

Azriel stood in the door frame, chewing his cheek.

She bit back a sob as she looked at him. He was so tall, so muscular. She stood no chance of ever overpowering. He was too smart for her to outwit. He was too clever to ever release her and too particular to just let her die. She hadn't realized until that moment just how hard she'd been battling with herself to find a will to even attempt to escape. She wished he'd just get it over with and not make her suffer more than she already had.

"How do you feel?" He asked, his voice small and hesitant. His shoulders sagged in a way she'd never seen him do before. He was so meticulous about his image, keeping himself inaccessible and aloof. He never showed his emotions on his face or through his body language. She'd learned this about him quickly. But now, in the doorway looking down to where she was tied to a bed, he looked nervous.

He didn't cross the threshold. Just stood slightly shadowed, watching her.

"Did you-" she bit her lip to calm the shaking of her voice. "Did you undress me and bathe me?" His eyes widened like she'd struck him with her words.

He looked at her for a long time, as if weighing what would be wise to say to her at the moment. Finally, he spoke.

"I didn't touch you, Callie. Not- fuck, not in that way. Never in that way. You just looked terrible and I-" her eyes grew wide and he stumbled over his words again. It was so unlike him. Then she mentally chastised herself because how the hell would she know what he was like?

He sighed, roughly running a hand down his face.

"I was gone for too long. I got stuck and couldn't make it back quickly enough to check on you and it was way too cold to have left you there, I had no idea a cold front was coming, I swear," he swallowed hard. "You were so sick, Callie. I didn't have a choice. I couldn't just watch you suffer like that. I healed you the best I could with what I had here and bathed you as clinically as I possibly could. I didn't know you'd scratched at your skin the way you had. I was scared if I didn't clean you off, they'd get infected."

She stared at him warily, silently pleading with him to not get any closer than he was. He had seen her naked body and had violated her boundaries and personal space. Ripped away any semblance of privacy or safety she had left.

She had been incredibly ill. She weighed in her mind whether he was being honest about his intentions. It made no sense. Why was he pretending to care for her well-being now when he'd been perfectly content to keep her locked up in a cell up until now?

"Why won't you just let me die," her voice was hoarse and raw. She'd probably been screaming in her sleep again.

His lips parted, but he didn't speak. He just watched her, stiff and unmoving.

"That's why you are keeping me, isn't it? To kill me?" She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Please just get it over with."

He still didn't react. Anger began to bubble in her chest and she wanted nothing more than to shove him, knock him out of his daze and make him answer her. He kept her locked up without telling her why. He undressed and bathed her without her permission. He barely fed her. He allowed her to stay in an ice block of a cell in skimpy clothing until she'd become sick and feverish. Now he claims to have cared enough to save her from dying?

"Maybe I'm tired of everyone dying," he said, not even bothering to look at her. His eyes focused on the floor and he chewed the inside of his cheeks. His muscled arms crossed over his chest and mussed strands of his onyx hair hung in his hazel eyes.

"I heard you murder someone," she retorts, eyes throwing knives in his direction.

"He had it coming," Azriel said quietly.

"According to you, so do I, so what gives?"

He looked up at her, eyes blazing with something she couldn't quite decipher.

"There's no one else, Cal. You and I are all that's left. I don't trust you. But perhaps, selfishly, I am afraid that once you're gone, I might be too. There would be nothing of me left. Everyone I've known would be dead." Dread settled low in her stomach at his words. She ached to remember what she was missing here.

"Why do you keep calling me nicknames?"

He froze. That question had obviously caught him off guard.

"Get some rest. We'll talk when you're better."

She didn't have the energy to argue with him. He snapped his fingers and three of her limbs were freed from where they'd been held, hostage. Only her left hand remained tied to the headboard. Loosely at that.

For the first time, her eyes focused on the ties. Because they weren't ties at all. They were swirling shadows given physical form. She gasped, looking to Azriel, but he was gone, the door tightly shut behind him. Finally able to find a comfortable position, she realized just how physically exhausted she still was. It didn't take long for the heavy claws of sleep to drag her under.