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The Symptoms
A Bullet In My Skull

A Bullet In My Skull

We had been walking for hours, though it felt like forever. It felt cold, though I'm not sure if that was just because it was December or if it was the disease giving me cold chills. Either way, I was shivering. The clouds threatened to spill rain, maybe even snow, however, based on the color of the clouds, it was likely to be acidic. A long time ago, acidic precipitation wasn't harmful to skin, however now it was so polluted that it can actually burn you if you're not careful

The Slums came into view only moments later, the familiar scent of smog and drugs enveloping us whole. Lucas's eyes teared up and he began coughing, however I was so used to it that it didn't bother me in the slightest. I sigh and lead him down the street inconspicuously, hoping to not draw the attention of the local people by my sudden appearance. However, it didn't seem like anybody actually cared, so that was good. I led him over to my crummy apartment building, guiding him inside so that he was out of the polluted air. Once we made it to my apartment, I apologized.

"I'm sorry, I forgot that you'd probably be more sensitive to the air down here than I am," I threw him a medical grade face mask, "This should help."

He caught it with ease, quickly slipping it on and adjusting his glasses. That's when I noticed that the right lens of his glasses was cracked. I don't know how I didn't see it before, but he was squinting his eyes to see properly. An idea came to mind.

"Hand me your glasses," I murmur. He looked at me confused.

"Why?"

"Do you want me to fix them or not?"

He sighed and took off his glasses, handing them off to me and staring up at the ceiling. I take the glasses and look through the one working lens, scowling slightly. He didn't have good sight at all, it was enough to hinder reading, and it looked like he was short-sighted. The enhancement of the glasses nearly made me go cross-eyed.

"Jeez, you are blind..." I muttered. He rolled his eyes and sat down on my bed, the weight making it creak with age. I saw him jump a little, as if he were scared he broke it for a second. Laughing a little, I continue to examine his glasses. The lens itself was easy to get, we had a lot of glass lenses at the shop that were still in good condition, not to mention we didn't even have to pay for them. However, the problem was finding one the exact shape and density for his current glasses. It might've just been easier to get him a new pair of glasses, however, I was determined to find a lens that fit. I let out a sigh and indicated for him to stand up.

"Have you ever used hovers before?" I ask. He shook his head, his eyebrow twitching inquisitively. I rummaged through my closet, finding an old pair that I hadn't used in a while, and tossed them to him. However, looking him over, I realized an issue. He was still in a Sentinel's uniform.

"We need to get you some clothes. I don't have anything that will fit you, except for a black tank top," I sigh. He sighed.

"I'll take the tank top for now, my pants should be fine," he mumbles. I once again dug through my closet and found a tank top that was a little too big for me, but should've fit him fine. I threw it over and turned around to give him his privacy. After he gave me the signal that he's decent, I turned back around and my breath caught in my throat.

Whoa.

It took me every ounce of self-control in my body to not make a face when I looked him up and down. I think I might have a little bit of an issue, because my entire face burned red. He looked good, ridiculously good, but I obviously wasn't going to let him know that, because I'm too proud to lower myself to that level. Instead, I clear my throat.

"We might need to get you a jacket, if you're not acclimated to the air, it can make your skin itch..." I mentioned, which wasn't exactly a lie. However, it was an excuse, "Plus it's cold outside," I finished. Turning away quickly, I find a jacket of mine in my closet and put it on, to extend the validity of my excuse. He simply nodded, seemingly oblivious to my panic, and put the hover mechanisms onto his boots. However he did mention my reddened state.

"Do you have a fever?"

I wish.

"It's just the sickness, I'm fine, don't worry about it," I said, maybe a little bit too quickly. However, he seemed to accept this answer, only with a worried scowl on his face. I crouched down and fastened my hovers. He adjusts his mask under his glasses once more, furrowing his brow in thought, as if he were confused, and turns to ask a question.

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"How do you use hovers?"

The initial question confused me too. I had never met somebody who had never used hovers before, so I thought my words through carefully.

"Click your heels together," I instruct.

"I'm not Dorothy, Blair," he replied bluntly.

"Just do it, smart-ass."

He clicked his heels together carefully and the hover mechanisms started up, lifting him gently, about four centimeters off the ground. However, he didn't seem to anticipate the sudden movement, and proceeded to slip and fall forwards.

Onto me.

His torso collided with my face and sent us both tumbling to the ground in a mess of limbs. A shot of pain flashed through my entire body as my wounds throbbed under my bandages, and I yelped out in pain. However after I got my bearings, my pain was immediately forgotten as I realized the position that I am in. I'm quite literally underneath Lucas, his hands at either side of my head as he prevented himself from falling directly on top of me. My heart stopped for half a second, as if silently screaming, and my head went blank. Lucas seemed to realize that I was under him and his eyes widened in union with mine. He jumps off of me and sits on the floor as if disoriented, a faint glow on his face, but hardly noticeable. I clear my throat and stand up immediately, brushing myself off as if nothing happened.

What in the godforsaken, romcom hell was that?

"We're walking."

"Yep," Lucas responds immediately, taking the hovers off. I click mine off and we proceed to walk quietly in silence out of my apartment building. Then Lucas attempts to make conversation.

"So, what's the name of your shop called?" he asked. I pause for a moment. Technically, I could name it whatever I wanted since it was now in my custody, however, that just felt disrespectful.

"The Treasure Tavern...It's half bar, half trinket shop. We have anything you could possibly think of, to some extent. It has kind of an old-timey feel to it," I responded thoughtfully. I suddenly felt a small, cold, burning sensation on my shoulder. Lucas looked up at the sky.

"It's snowing, that's the first snow of the winter," he mentioned. I panicked a little.

"Yeah, well I don't want to be around to see it!" I said, beginning to walk faster. He looked at me in pure confusion.

"Why- Ow!" His question is cut off by his sudden exclamation of pain, and he rubs his arm gingerly, "What on earth..."

"That's why. It's acidic, just look at the clouds! It doesn't even look welcoming..." I stare up at the grayish-green clouds as they hover over like threats. I was just glad that it wasn't an acidic fog. We had that in the slums last year and hardly anyone went outside due to the fog burning the inside of their lungs.

"Hurry! We have to get inside!" I yelp, as another acidic snowflake touched my skin. We both hurried down the street, dodging other people trying to get inside of their homes as the air grew bitterly cold. The shop was just in reach and I grabbed the door handle, tugging at it desperately, but it was locked. I ripped up the welcome mat and grabbed the spare key as the flakes burned my skin, causing an itching sensation to spread across my shoulders. I heard the latch come undone with a small click, and I shoved the door open, Lucas following in behind me.

The smell of old cigars and alcohol enveloped us as he closed the door behind him.

Within the silence, I could faintly hear rummaging in the far back corner of the shop, behind a shelf of trinkets. I groan with annoyance. It was either one of two options, an animal, or a savage. An animal was more likely, however we have had savages sneak up on us before, and it made it. I reached behind the counter, grabbing the spare handgun that laid there, and stole a glance at the security cameras. Sure enough, the back door had been broken open.

"Lucas," I whisper, getting his attention. He seemed to have already grasped the situation, his hand on his belt as he reached for his gun. I'm pretty sure the savage was already aware of our presence as soon as we opened the door, but who knows how long it had been there. It was hiding, waiting to strike at us from afar, and I could almost feel its eyes on me.

As if it could hear my thoughts, it jumped out at us, its pale skin tarnished with scars and dirt, and its eyes empty, barely clinging to life. Normally, I would have never froze in a situation such as this. I was used to dealing with savages, but something about this made my stomach churn uncomfortably, to the point where I almost felt nauseous. Its eyes darted around in a frantic way, as if driven mad by its own thoughts, and its breathing was heavy, every so often plagued with coughing fits as it snarled viciously. It soon realized that there were two of us and glanced around warily, however its gaze rested on me in an almost curious way. I stared back at it, a strong sense of doubt clawing its way at my heart, but not for the impending attack.

Is that truly what I am going to become?

It leapt at me, and I came to my senses quickly. Before Lucas could even react, I had my gun aimed straight for its head, and fired my shot. It fell to the ground with a cut-off scream, laced with agony. However, I was barely focused on what I had done, and turned to Lucas with dread lacing my thoughts. He had a look on his face that was unrecognizable, his eyebrows pinching together in deep thought. He tried to speak, but I interrupted him before he could.

"Lucas," I murmured, with a wary look in my eye.

"Yes?"

"If I ever end up that far gone...if I ever get to the point where you don't recognize me anymore..." I squeezed my eyes shut, begging the image in my mind to fade away as I made my request.

"...I want you to shoot me."