Unbecoming Humans

Chapter 12

During the night, I continued cooling Nima with the washcloth for several hours, before her groans subsided and she fell into a heavy sleep. I did my best to stay awake to continue monitoring her. I remember sitting there staring at her features as she slept. The color slowly returned to her face and she looked so peaceful. I stroked her silky smooth hair a few times, pondering how her brownish-black hair could be so similar to my own, and yet so different. Hours of pain had kept her curled in the fetal position, but eventually, she had relaxed into a comfortable side-sleeping position. I watched her even breathing for what seemed like a long time.

When I awoke Monday morning, I was surprised to find Nima's head resting in my lap. I hadn't meant to fall asleep, but her shallow breathing must have acted as a lullaby. Nima looked so serene. It was a stark contrast to the woman who was writhing in pain the night before. I wanted nothing more than to stay in that moment, but I was worried that a handler would walk by on patrol and see us in that compromising position.

I carefully slid sideways out of the bed, inch by inch, trying hard not to wake Nima. As I slid my leg out from beneath her head, I held her head up with my hand. I grabbed a pillow and placed it gently beneath her.

I tiptoed quietly back to my room. The handler on duty either didn't notice me, or didn't care to say anything about my sleepover in Nima's room. Andrew had probably warned the next person on shift about Nima's state, and my appointment as her overnight watchdog.

I entered my room and closed the door behind me. I already missed the feeling of closeness I had experienced lying with Nima. Even I couldn't be sure what I meant last night when I told her I wouldn't leave her. I tried to convince myself that it was just the protective instinct that siblings felt for one another, but I couldn't help but worry that it was something more.

I shook myself mentally. What was I thinking? I couldn't fall for this girl. It would only bring trouble for both of us. I undressed quickly and drenched myself in an icy cold shower attempting to freeze my traitorous heart.

This had to stop now. I was going spend the rest of my life with Blake, whether I wanted to or not. Pining away for some beautiful woman wouldn't save me from my fate, and it certainly wouldn't make it any easier to swallow.

I stepped out of the shower covered in goose flesh from the frigid water. The icy cold shower had not accomplished much of anything besides making me cold. Even that would not last long, thanks to my above-average body temperature and adaptability.

My next line of defense was a morning run. It was pouring rain outside, which would make the task more arduous but hopefully, more effective. As soon as I stepped out the front door of the compound, I set off at a flat out sprint. I did one lap around the large trail at the perimeter of the grounds, and then another, and a third. I was going to punish these feelings out of me if it killed me. One downside to having excellent endurance was that it took a lot to push myself. After three laps of sprinting around the grounds, I finally reached the point where I could no longer feel my legs or my arms. I didn't have enough oxygen to think about anything besides my heavy breathing. Feeling satisfied that I had rid myself of thoughts of Nima for now, I went back to my room to clean myself up for breakfast.

As I passed Nima's door on the way to mine, I purposely avoided looking into her room, but I saw out of the corner of my eye that someone was in there with her. Most likely, it was one of the doctors come to make sure she hadn't died during the night. I hurried into my own room, showered, and changed into something that wasn't drenched in sweat. I took my place in line for breakfast early, so I wouldn't have to see Nima as she took her place behind me.

I avoided looking at her, or even in her direction all through breakfast. But even in my peripheral vision, I could tell that she looked like she had been through hell last night. In order to avoid looking in Nima's direction, I elected to stare at my bowl of oatmeal for the duration of the meal. It was an attractive bowl of oatmeal, as oatmeal goes. Intermittent berries added bright pops of color to soggy greyish-brown mass. I pushed them around in my bowl, making designs with the colorful juice trails they left in their wakes.