Ghetto

by M L Sparrow

  “Had to cool down,” he mutters, head bowed as he shuffles over to the bed, a completely different person without his usual confidence. At first he goes to sit at the foot of the bed, but then reconsiders, kicking off his shoes and climbing beneath the covers beside me. With an arm around my shoulders, he tucks me into his side and kisses my forehead. We sit like this in silence for several minutes, before he says, “I handled that badly, but you shoulda told me. If you’d told me I could have sorted somethin’ out, but now we don’t have time and the only thing I can think of is sending you back.”

  “No,” I protest, shoving away from him so that I can look up into his face, “that’s exactly what I was afraid of. And anyway, you can’t just send me away, I’m not a parcel you can slap a stamp on and ship off.”

  “I get that, Sunny,” his voice is surprisingly patient, despite the frustration etched on his face, “But you said it yourself, you’ll die if you don’t get a shot of All-Cure and it’s not like we have a lot of that ‘round here.”

  “I’m sure we can get our hands on some somehow,” I insist, “there’s got to be a way. What about Joel, maybe he could help?”

  Though he looks doubtful, Sin nods, “I’ll ask him.” Taking a deep breath, he forces out the next few words, “How long do you think you’ve got, ‘cos you don’t look too great?”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” My lips twist up into a wry smile. “I think my self-confidence just hit rock bottom and started to dig.” When he doesn’t do anything except continue to stare at me with those intense blue eyes, the expression slips and I swallow the sudden anxiety that threatens to swamp me. “I’m not sure how long,” I admit after a moment, “it’s never been allowed to progress this far before. I’d guess a couple of weeks, perhaps.” That might even be a bit optimistic, I think privately.

  “Okay.” I can almost see the cogs in his brain working as he mulls over the problem at hand. “We’ll give it a week,” he decrees, “if nothin’ turns up I’m taking you home.”

  My jaw clenches. This is my home now.

  Chapter 17

  Sin doesn’t waste any time talking to Joel; he does it the very same night and returns the next morning with a drawn expression.

  “He’s not hopeful,” he says as soon as he enters the room, “but he’s gunna try. He’s gunna talk to his richer contacts, see if they can get some.”

  “Okay,” I nod, trying to remain upbeat and positive, “well, I guess all we can do now is wait.”

  “We could steal some,” he says speculatively, head tilted in thought.

  “No,” I firmly shoot that idea down before it can take root, “that’s far too dangerous.” All-Cure is like god-dust and because of that it’s heavily guarded, with only the producers and specialists like Dr Wong having access. Last night, while searching for a solution, I had briefly considered going to the elderly doctor for aid, but that would mean venturing into the city once more and then I run the risk of being discovered, so that was an absolute last resort.

  However, as the week ticks by and there’s no word from Joel, returning to Dr Wongs’ clinic becomes an ever increasing likelihood. Midway through the week, I feel so weak that I can barely peel my eyes open. I don’t even bother trying to drag myself out of bed. Sin isn’t going out as much anymore and when I do manage to open my eyes, during one of my rare lucid moments, I find him sitting at my bedside, having dragged in one of the rickety old chairs from the canteen. Reaching out a sweaty hand, I grasp his wrist.

  “Dr Wong,” my voice is a thin rasp that he has to lean forwards to hear and I have to take a fortifying, shaky breath between each word, “find him, he’ll help.” Haltingly, I rattle of the address of the clinic, which I know from multiple visits. I hope he remembers, I hope it doesn’t take him long to act, because already I can feel myself slipping. I’d thought I’d be able to hold out longer, but it looks like fate has once more paid a cruel joke on me. Only Sin’s hand, firmly clasping mine, and the sound of his deep voice, keep me balanced on the edge of the chasm.

  I don’t wake up again after that, at least not properly, though I’m aware of people coming and going. I can hear Maya crying and Ben’s rough timbre soothing her. Kit asks Sin rapid fire questions and gets snapped at in response. Various other people visit. Someone tells me they’ve beaten my high score on Cinder and challenges me to get up and reclaim my title. I want to, of course I do, but I’m just too tired and everything hurts. If I just lay here, still and quiet, maybe the pain will go away. Through it all, Sin is there, the calm in the storm. His fingers are crushing mine, but that’s a good pain; it reassures me that I’m still alive, it keeps me grounded.

  “What are we gunna do?” Kit’s voice is uncharacteristically gruff. I think he might have been crying. It makes my heart hurt to think of Kit sad. I want to sit up and hug him. He’s like a little brother to me, despite the fact that he’s usually the one looking out for me.

  “We gotta get her to that doctor.” Sin’s still in the room, that was him speaking, but he’s no longer holding my hand and I feel like I’m missing a limb. Something inside me panics. Where is he? I can’t see him and I need to. Already the voices are starting to blur out once more.

  The last thing I hear is someone unfamiliar telling them, “It’s too dangerous, she’s not worth it.”

  Both Kit and Sin yell at him, and I think Maya’s there as well, but my muddled brain can’t decipher the words as consciousness slips away.

  Cool air on my feverish skin.

  Fingers sifting through my hair.

  “Pass her down to me. Don’t drop her.”

  Strong arms hold me safe. A heart pounds beneath my ear.

  “Be bloody careful.”

  “Mind her head!”

  Something scrapes my arm. It’s a brief burn, but then it fades.

  “Shit. I said be careful.”

  Cold. I start to shiver. My teeth chatter. I try to burrow into the warm body holding me.

  Breath brushes my ear. “Almost there, darlin’.”

  Bumping up and down. I think we’re running now.

  “I’ll go alone from here.”

  More running.

  “Hold on, darlin’, not far now.”

  Frantic knocking, My bones rattle. A draft across my face.

  “Thanks for meetin’ me.”

  “I’m not going to let my favourite patient die. Bring her through here.”

  The next time the clouds lift from my mind, I feel better. The voices are clearer now and I understand every word.

  “You said it would make her better.”

  “It will.” However, the doctor doesn’t sound convinced.

  “Then why isn’t she waking up?” Sin snaps. He sounds like he’s about to hit the other man. Dr Wong is so old and frail it’d probably kill him. I force my eyes open and try to talk, but it comes out a groan. Immediately Sin is at my side, grabbing hold of my searching hand in both of his and clasping it tight as he gazes down at me. The relief in his eyes is palpable.

  “God, you scared me.”

  I try to smile reassuringly, but I still feel shaken. “I scared myself, too.” My stomach growls loudly and I blush, realizing that I haven’t eaten properly in almost a week.

  “I’ll get you something hot to eat,” the Doctor says, moving to the door before pausing to look back at Sin, scanning his underfed frame and the way his clothes hang from him. “I’ll get you something as well.”

  “Thanks,” Sin answers with a stiff nod, uncomfortable with the show of sympathy, watching until Dr Wong leaves the room.

  When the door clicks shut, he transfers his intense stare back to me. “How do you feel?”

  “I feel good as new,” I flash him a genuine smile, “better even.”

  “Good,” he nods, but I can tell he’s distracted as he drags over a chair to sit beside me. Realizing that I’m still reclining in the exam chair, I sit up, watching him closely as he appears to debate internally with himself.
A full minute passes, according to the clock on the wall above the doctors’ desk, before another word is uttered. Taking my hand in his once more, as if to soften the blow, he says gruffly, “I been thinkin’, you need to stay here and try to talk to your dad.”

  A lump forms in my throat. “You know that won’t work, you’ve said it yourself.”

  “I’ve changed my mind.”

  “No, you haven’t, you’re just trying to manipulate me into staying here.”

  Unapologetic, Sin shrugs. “It’s safer here.”

  “I don’t care about safe.”

  “Too bad it’s not your choice. If you stay you’ve got the Doc on hand whenever you need him.”

  “It’ll be months, at the very least, until I need another shot,” I interrupt, “I’ll just get Dr Wong to give me a few to take with me.”

  “That’ll never work and you know it. You’d see someone hurt and give it to them, like you did me, and you won’t even think about yourself.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” I cry, offended, “my life is no more valuable than anybody else’s.”

  “Why are you yellin’ at me?” he shouts back, “I’m tryin’ to do the right thing here!”

  “No, you’re trying to push me out because you don’t think I can handle it.”

  “I’m trying to keep you alive, since you can’t seem to do it yourself.”

  “Excuse me…” I start angrily, face reddening, however, he cuts me off with a downward slash of his hand.

  “You didn’t tell me you were sick, though you knew you were dyin’, you climbed down a rickety drainpipe out of a third storey window and you snuck into the Ghetto alone at night, to find something for a damn typewriter. I don’t even know what that is, but I sure as hell know it ain’t worth your damn life.”

  The silence that follows his outburst only lasts a second, because Dr Wong opens the door with a concerned expression, asking, “What’s going on in here? I heard raised voices.”

  “Leave,” Sin bites out, never tearing his gaze from mine.

  “Sunny, are you alright?” the good doctor questions. Clearly, Sin isn’t used to being ignored, because his jaw clenches so hard that a tick appears in his cheek.

  “I’m fine. Could you give us a few minutes?”

  “Alright,” he sighs, glancing at Sin once more, “if that’s what you want.” The door shuts with a snap.

  “Is that really what you think of me, that I’m suicidal?” I ask quietly, breaking our staring match to stare down at my feet.

  “No. I think you’re careless.” I glance up to see his scowl as he continues, “All your life you’ve had people lookin’ after you: you’re dad, that robot… me. You don’t think about what you do ‘cos you’ve always had someone to pull you outa any trouble you get into, but it won’t always be like that.”

  “I can’t believe this,” I throw my hands up in frustration, glaring at him, “you still think I’m some pampered princess without a brain in my head.”

  “No, I don’t. Jesus, you’re talkin’ crazy.”

  “So now I’m crazy too, am I?”

  “And unreasonable!” he yells, standing up abruptly, knocking over his chair. “You’re definitely your fathers’ daughter.” That brings me up short, makes me blink. Staring at me, the anger leeches from his face, guilt entering his eyes. Finally, he murmurs, “I shouldn’t have said that, I didn’t mean it.” Pressing my lips together, I turn my face away so that he won’t see how much he’s hurt me, but being as persistent as he is, Sin steps closer and turns my face back towards him with his fingertips under my chin. “Sunny, I’m sorry,” he says sincerely.

  Taking a deep breath, I nod, “Yeah, I know.” Another breath and I admit, “And I also know you’re just trying to do what’s best for me, but I still don’t agree. Therefore, I propose a compromise. I’ll stay here for a month and try to talk my dad around to your way of thinking. However, if I don’t succeed within that time frame, then I’m going back and nothing you say will stop me. Do we have a deal?”

  For a moment he just gapes at me. And then, “No.”

  I can’t help but laugh, taking his hand and lifting it to my mouth, kissing his palm. “And you say I’m unreasonable.”

  Needless to say, this is one battle I do win, though I do compromise further by extending the length of my stay to two months. It takes us a while to reach this agreement and we only pause in the arguing to inhale the piping hot roast dinner that Dr Wong wheels in on a trolley. I don’t know where he got it from in the middle of the night, but the meal is sublime; the chicken moist and tender, potatoes crisp on the outside and fluffy inside, the gravy thick. I’m sorely tempted to lick the plate clean once I’m finished, but instead I push it away and lean back to watch Sin mopping up his gravy with a Yorkshire pudding.

  Picking up a napkin, I hand it to him when he’s done, saying, “You appear to have missed your mouth.”

  A hint of colour appears in his aristocratic cheekbones as he wipes away the food on his chin, before reaching out for his drink. Lifting the glass to his lips, he takes a gulp of cool water, licks his lips, lowers the glass and then says quietly, “I don’t like this either, ya know?”

  “What, the food?” My brows draw together in confusion.

  “No,” he scowls at me in frustration, a harsh edge to his voice, “this situation. I don’t like it either, but it’s what’s best.”

  “I disagree, but I don’t want to fight again.”

  “Fine by me.”

  “Only because you know you’ll lose,” I grin over at him. At first he doesn’t seem to know I’m teasing him and when he realizes he doesn’t know how to deal with it, which makes my smile widen. Feeling weightless, I stand and circle around the trolley we had been using as a table to sit on his lap, twining my arms around his neck and resting my forehead against his. With my eyes closed, I feel rather than see his hesitation, but then one arm hooks around my waist, the hand of his other arm tracing random patterns over my kneecap.

  Shivering at the feather light touch, my eyes flutter open. “Kiss me.”

  This time there’s no hesitation. His lips press down on mine, a gentle, easy kiss that makes my toes curl. A warm feeling starts in the pit of my stomach, radiating throughout my entire body, when his tongue traces the seam of my mouth. Abandoning my knee, his hand grips my jaw, holding me still as his kiss becomes more aggressive. Moaning into his open mouth, I squirm in his lap, trying to get closer. Bracing my hands on his shoulders, I leaver myself up, attempting to twist around and straddle him, however, in my eager excitement, my knee slips. Our noses bump, his teeth catch my tongue as we pull apart.

  “You bit my tongue,” I accuse, drawing back as I lift a hand to my mouth.

  A coughing wheeze escapes him. “You kneed me in the balls.”

  “Oh, God,” I gasp, scrambling off his lap to regard his crumpled face. I swear there are tears in his eyes. “I’m so, so sorry.” I reach out, hoping to somehow reinforce my apology, but he wards me off with the hand that isn’t cupping his injured crown jewels. Dropping down in front of him, I clasp his knees, repeating, “Sin, babe, I’m so sorry.”

  “Oh, yeah?” he huffs, “Then stop laughin’.”

  Shoulders shaking, I drop my forehead into his lap. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it.”

  “Not funny.”

  Holding my thumb and forefinger a little way apart, to indicate it is a little bit, I continue to laugh silently, tears rolling down my face. Grunting, he tugs at a curl in retaliation, but it only increases my amusement. Once I’ve managed to calm myself, I wipe my eyes and look up to see him glaring down at me, which almost sets me off again.

  Swallowing down another burst of laughter, I ask, “Are you alright?”

  “Like you care,” he mutters by way of a reply.

  Slapping at his thigh, I sober quickly, saying, “Don’t be like that, of course I care, it’s just that nothing ever goes smoothly for us, does it? It’s as if th
e universe is conspiring against us.”

  “We should probably listen.”

  Again, I hit his leg, harder this time. “Don’t ever say that, don’t even think it. We can beat the odds.” The words come out without conscious thought, but as I say them I realize that I actually do believe it wholeheartedly. Up until now I hadn’t serious thought about Sin and I having a future, sure there had been silly little daydreams, but I hadn’t actually thought about it, we’d just been living in the moment. Yet the more I thought about it, the more I wanted our lives to be joined in the long-term, no matter how difficult it may be. Softening my tone, I reach up to run my fingers through his shaggy mane of blond hair, stroking it back from his forehead, as I ask, “Seriously though, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he grumbles grudgingly, “I’ll never be able to have kids, but that’s fine, never wanted any of the snot nosed brats anyways.”

  Snorting, I shake my head at him. “I really am sorry, you know I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “I know,” he leans down to kiss my lips, “but this time maybe you should stay still.”

  “This time?” I ask breathily, my heart already speeding up as his large hands cup my face, fingers tangling into the hair at my temples.

  “U-huh.” The low, throaty sound of agreement makes me shiver, mere seconds before he kisses me once more.

  Sliding off the chair, his knees bracketing mine, he lowers me to the hard floor and follows me down, leaving my lips in favour of trailing kisses down my neck. Feeling daring, I slip my hands beneath the hem of his shirt, the heat of his skin searing my fingertips. Shuddering in reaction, he buries his head in the crook of my neck, his breath heavy and damp against my fluttering pulse. Holding him to me with a hand in his hair and one arm looped around his neck, I kiss his bristled cheek, causing another shudder to ripple through his body. Lifting his head, he nips lightly at my lower lip, before melding our mouths together once more.