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Twisted games elena lawson5/13/2023 ![]() ![]() I tugged it out with a grunt, and felt the warmth of fresh blood pool and spill down my forearm. Until I could move enough to reach over my battered body to the IV needle I’d haphazardly jabbed into my vein when the fever came on, bringing with it a delirium so complete that I saw four of my own arm as I fed the needle into my skin. Long enough that I could draw a fuller breath and the dim light no longer seared my eyes. I couldn’t be sure how much longer I lay there in a pool of my own sweat and blood and piss and stink, but long enough that the feeling returned to my fingers. I groaned, but that only made my ribs scream in protest of the vibration. The cold room wavered in and out of focus. My neck strained as I turned stiffly on the sweat-soaked pillow beneath my head, trying to blink through the haze clouding my eyes. My sight returned in increments, eyelids heavy and crusted so thickly my eyelashes plucked themselves free of my flesh as I worked to open them. ![]() ![]() My body felt frail, wisp-like as though hollowed out and stuffed with leaves. Knowing there would be nothing to throw up even if I succumbed to the urge. But, unwilling to move just yet, I forced the rank taste of death down as I swallowed, trying to moisten my aching throat. ![]() A foul taste defiled my dry mouth and I resisted the swift and sudden urge to turn over and vomit onto the cement floor. Its angry claws dug into my chest and arms, dragging me up from the depths of a deep and dreamless unconsciousness. ![]()
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