Invalid

Ten

Cleaning my wounds was once, and still is, part of my daily routine. Later, that routine involved giving wounds to others. The difference? When I was finished with them, they wouldn't be able to clean theirs...  

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The Official died a few hours ago. He never woke up and the gash I tore through his flesh seemed to be the reason, dried blood flooding the ground around him as Michael had grabbed at the man's arms before leaving me and Jane so he could take care of the body. 

Had Jane been feeling any better, I would have taken the opportunity of Michael's absence as a chance to ditch him and figure out a way to get Wade back. But Jane being ill wasn't the only reason I stayed where I was, finally washing the blood from my arms and keeping our small fire lit as the morning sun came into view. 

Someone would have to stay with her, I realized. Leaving Jane alone again would only call for more trouble. No matter how much I didn't trust Michael, Jane choking on her own vomit -a symptom that showed up over the past half hour- wasn't going to lead anywhere good.

Jane was sleeping, snuggled into my jacket again. And though I was freezing, my arms bare and the hole in my pants more noticeable than ever, I smiled as I placed it over her, unraveling the braid from my hair and letting it fall onto my back and shoulders as a sort of cover. From there, I proceeded to fix a different problem; the ever growing growl from my stomach, one I could no longer ignore.

I was in the middle of opening one of the dented cans I had won from the fight, the knife I also gained from it coming in handy with the task. Any evidence of the tin having a label was gone and I was left to hope that the food inside was something Jane would be able to stomach once she awoke.

Prying the metal circle away from the can, I saw that olives were apparently on the menu this morning. 

I resisted the urge to dump the contents out and blame it all on an accident as I stuck my hand in, pulling one of them out and popping it in my mouth as I held back any gagging that forced its way through. Anyone with half a mind in my situation would know that complaining over food, even if it is one of your most hated, is a one way ticket on a train leading directly to death. I continued chewing.

I was somewhere around my tenth and final olive of the meal, a small strip of jerky added in, when I noticed a silhouette lining the view from where I was sitting. He was covered in blood again, a hand placed in his pocket and a bag on his shoulder as he walked my way. That's when I saw the other figure, running up behind Michael, her hair up in a ponytail and flopping every which way along with a pack hanging around her back as she gained speed and passed him up.

Putting the can aside, I got up from the ground, dusting myself off and preparing myself for whatever in the heck this chick wanted. But I was also going to be cautious, spotting her dip-dyed blue hair which reminded me of the weight from the dagger in my pocket and the sting of my cut again. And one split second examination of her face only confirmed that this was in fact the girl I fought, a smile now lining her lips that soon fell as her eyes landed on Jane.

She stopped dead in her tracks, taking slow steps toward Jane a second later and placing her hands on her forehead only to pull away really fast. "God, she's on fire! Could've friggin burnt my hand off!"

I didn't have time to focus on her words or mention that maybe she shouldn't yell around Jane so she could rest, the sound of steps coming up to me. 

"You've been gone for hours." I whisper-shrieked at him, throwing a small punch in the direction of his shoulder and causing him to hiss in what I knew was fake pain and drop his bag.

"Worried about me or something, sweetheart?" He rubbed at his arm, showing a stupid lopsided grin as I glared at him. "I'll take that as a yes."

Ignoring what he said, I ran a hand through my hair and grumbled, "This may sound like the worst thing to ever say, but seriously, how long does it take to hide a freaking body, Michael?" 

"Thirty minutes. An extra ten if you care about covering your tracks." He answered instantly. "And I think we both know that there are way worse things either of us could say, Jen. It's just another fact of Invalid life."

I huffed, pushing the hair from my eyes again and exhaling. "Fine, just never mind. It was a dumb question. Just, uh, just forget I said anything."

Michael rolled his eyes. "Since you're so concerned," He started, picking his pack up from the ground. "I was grabbing my bag from the dingy old building while a fight was going on. I don't trust any of those stealing jerks over there."

"Okay." I crossed my arms, glancing at Jane and the girl currently still messing with her. "How does she fit into all of this?"

"I ran into Sara on the way out and she followed me. No big deal." 

Biting my lip, I took in his words and walked over to Sara. Jane still wasn't awake and Sara was brushing her hair back with her fingers. When she looked at us, she swallowed hard. "She's worse off than you said, Michael. I thought you said she was conscious the last time you saw her, she won't even wake up now."

My head snapped to Michael and he said, "Okay. I may have also told her about the situation, Jen. Still no big deal."

When Sara turned to me, she half smiled, a small, thin line that appeared for a short second and then it was gone. "I swear i'm not a horrible person," She told me, glancing at my shirt toward the direction of my cut and then shifting her gaze. "just a sore loser. Sometimes the anger gets the best of me and I can't contain it. Hope I didn't hurt you too bad."

"Nothing I haven't gone through before." I shrugged. 

"Yeah, well still. Doesn't make it right." She brought her attention back to Jane, Sara's fingers skimming over her arm. "I'll have to put some old damp rags on her, cool down the fever a bit. And maybe force her to drink water by literally opening her mouth, pouring it down her throat, and hope to god that she doesn't choke. Like I said, she's isn't responding. I don't have much of a choice."

"Um," I lifted an eyebrow. "Uh, okay. But, I can do it. I've been taking care of her so far and I don't want to spread it for no reason."

Sara snapped her head to Michael. "Isn't she going with you?"

It was my turn to look at him. "What's she talking about?"

Michael rubbed at the back of his neck, touching the tattoo barely hidden under his shirt. "Come on, Jen. We both know you're not stupid. Someone's gotta stay here with Jane so she's not alone when we go to save Wade."

"We? I don't remember asking you to come with me." 

"Fine." He crossed his arms. "Go alone. Take on whoever knows how many Officials all on your own when we both know you're not thinking straight for some reason and you have an injury."

"Again, really sorry bout that." Sara piped in without turning to us.

"My point is," Michael continued. "I'm the reason he's gone and you need help. Quit being stubborn and let's hit the road. I have a small, and hopefully correct, idea of where Wade is. But it's gonna take both of us to get him back."

Biting my lip, not sure if I should trust him again and start trusting a new person, I nodded my head and ran over to grab my backpack. I also picked up the can of olives, shoving them at Michael's chest.

"I hate them and i'm not a fan of you, so you two are a perfect match." I explained, gesturing to the food before bending down against to grab the sharp metal circle I took off the can earlier and placing it in a pocket of the bag just in case. "Besides, you won't be of much use to me if you're starving."

"Aw, you really do care." He teased.

Linking the straps of the bag around my arms, I glared at him. "Let's get this over with."

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So sorry for the delay in updates. I haven't been feeling well and everything I tried to write sounded like ick. That and, well, someone copied one of my stories recently (the watty award winning one) and said they only got 'inspiration' from it (they literally only changed one thing) so they didn't know that counted as stealing it and the whole thing only made me feel that much worse. They deleted it and everything, but it still hurts. And then they tried to make ME feel bad for asking them to please stop copying my work and saying that I was overreacting and stuff. I was a literal wreck for days over this...

Anyway, here's an update. Hope you guys like it <3 Dedicated to Auelpo. Thanks for reading :)