Infected

“You’re looking good,” Hallie grinned, strolling in to find me sitting up.
“I don’t feel too bad today,” I answered, though I was shivering slightly. I wrapped the blanket around my arms tightly, clasping it with one hand as I ran one through my lank hair. “I wish showers still existed, though.”
“You want me to get you hot water to wash?” she asked, hovering in the doorway.
I sighed, “I don’t know if I have the energy for it.”
I’d been slowly healing through lots of sleep and gallons of oatmeal, which Brian had apparently deemed necessary for my recovery (interspersed with Lucky Charms whenever Jimmy took pity on me). Every time I woke, I woke for a little bit longer, and I could do a little more. Brian continued to bring me regular top ups of whatever he was medicating me with, apparently having taken it upon himself to be my sole caregiver. He never stayed long, didn’t do much in the way of conversation, but he made sure I was comfy, fed and medicated. Of course, Jimmy peppered me with visits whenever he wasn’t pestering anyone else. He mostly rambled on about random things while I dozed. He had a real talent for filling silence and was more than happy to bestow it on us all, and I was more than happy to accept it at the moment. Anything to keep my mind from wandering into unwanted memories. Adam was doing well at haunting my dreams at the moment, and I regularly woke up in a sweat after having vivid nightmares that he was reigning over. It all added up, and though I was feeling physically better than I had a few days ago, the tumultuous emotional storm was taking its toll on my energy levels.
“Why don’t you try? I’ll help you,” Hallie offered. “You might feel better for it.”
I thought about it for a moment before agreeing, “Yeah, okay. Sure.”
She gave me a toothy smile before beetling off on her mission. I eyed the oatmeal beside me and groaned. I couldn’t face even a single spoon of it. I was grateful for Brian’s insistent care and nursing, but I couldn’t get behind yet another bowl of brown gloop within these four walls. Instead, I made the effort to get up. The claustrophobia of having been stranded in one room was beginning to get to me.

Carefully placing one foot on the floor, then the other, I put my hands either side of me and shakily pushed myself to my feet. My legs were weak, but working. They were certainly just about capable enough of getting me to the kitchen, so I began my slow stagger, leaning on anything I could along the way. Cautious steps, one by one, got me closer and closer to the kitchen, but halfway down the corridor, my energy was spent. I leaned against the wall, breathing heavily, regretting my decision.
“Marina?”
I looked up to find the origin of the voice. Fucking Johnny stood at the end of the corridor, raising an eyebrow at me.
“Do you need some help?” he asked, reluctantly.
“Nope,” I answered him, still panting.
He shifted from one foot to the other, “You kind of look like you do. Were you trying to get to the kitchen?”
“Yes,” I admitted, blushing, “but I’m doing just fine by myself.”
“You are?” he questioned, a smirk pulling at his lips. He rolled his eyes, “Let me help you.”
He approached and planted himself at my side, pulling my arm over his shoulders before I could protest. We stepped forwards together carefully, and annoyingly, I found myself clinging to him for support. As soon as he’d sat me down at the breakfast bar, he whipped his arm away from me like I had a contagious disease.
“What are you even doing out of bed?” he asked, rather rudely.
“I was coming to find something to eat,” I panted, not appreciating his line of questioning as I tried to catch my breath again.
He scowled, “Didn’t Brian make you oatmeal? Why don’t you eat that?”
“You can go eat it if you want,” I shrugged, raising an eyebrow. “I’m kind of sick of it.”
“I see nearly dying hasn’t made you any less of an ungrateful bitch,” he retorted, his eyes fiery.
I scoffed at how quickly this had turned into an attack, “What exactly do you have against me, Johnny?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Marina,” he replied, patronisingly, “maybe it’s the fact that you killed a child.”
I bit my tongue, trying to contain my anger.
Taking a deep breath, I spoke slowly in an effort to maintain control of my temper, “I didn’t see you showing any mercy when you shot up that cult.”
He narrowed his eyes, “Yeah, a fucking cult, but I’d never kill a child.”
“She wasn’t a child,” I snapped, the volume of my voice hiking up, “she was a fucking biter, Johnny.”
“I don’t need your excuses,” he shrugged, rounding on me.
“And I don’t need your opinion,” I retorted, glaring at him.
“Of course you don’t,” he snarled, “because you go about your life at everyone else’s expense without any regard for them. I’m glad that psycho fucked you up, it’s karma.”
“W-what?” I stuttered, looking at him incredulously.
“You deserved it,” he said slowly, his eyes narrowing as he flashed a cruel smirk. I looked away, speechless. I couldn’t bring myself to argue, especially when a part of me buried deep inside believed him.
“Nothing to say?” he jeered, raising his eyebrows. “I’d have expected nothing less from someone who killed one of their own family.”
“How dare you?” I growled, the exertion of raising my voice leaving me breathless. “I suppose you’ve had to make that decision, have you, Johnny? You’re so fucking high and mighty.”
“Finally found your tongue?” he sneered. “Well, I’d rather be high and mighty than a murdering cunt.”
I spent the last of my energy flinging my hand as hard as I could across his face. He stumbled backwards, causing me to overbalance and fall forwards from the chair, not that I registered the pain of it. I was so focussed on hitting him again that I dragged myself up from the floor, breathing heavily as I looked for him. Spotting him backing off into a corner, I lunged at him dizzily, only to hit the floor again.

“Fucking stop,” Brian’s voice cut harshly through the red mist. “What the fuck is going on with you two? Johnny, get out of here.”
I felt Brian’s arms pull me up to my feet as Johnny’s footsteps and muttered curses faded down the hallway. I must have looked a mess - panting, sweating, and shaking with rage and exhaustion. Brian staggered over to the breakfast bar with me, sitting me back in the chair I’d been in pre-scuffle.
“What the fuck are you even doing in the kitchen?” he asked, pacing back and forth irritably.
“I wanted peanut butter,” I shrugged, trying to keep my hands from pawing at my chest, where the wound had begun to ooze and throb in protest of my unexpected dive across the kitchen.
“You wanted peanut butter?” Brian asked, blinking at me in disbelief. “Fucking peanut butter?”
I gritted my teeth, feeling my own irritation building, “Yes, fucking peanut butter.”
He groaned out, putting his head in his hands as he leaned on the counter top. He briefly pressed his fingers into his eye sockets in frustration before peeking at me from between his fingers.
“Don’t you think you should be in bed?” he asked, exasperatedly.
“I’m sick of bed,” I snapped, “and I’m sick of that fucking jerk.”
“Look,” Brian interrupted, wearily, “I know that he can be a pain in the ass, but can’t you even be in the same room as each other?”
“Yeah, we can - as soon as he keeps his fucking mouth shut,” I growled, clenching my fists. The heart pumping adrenaline that had sprouted from my anger was keeping me from collapsing at the insistent piercing burn that was radiating from my chest, but my mind was beginning to protest. Unwanted tears of humiliation, frustration and hatred were threatening to prick at my eyes.
Brian sighed, “I get that you’re angry-”
“Oh,” I interrupted, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “You get that I’m angry. That’s so understanding of you, Brian.”
“Don’t attack me,” he warned, pointing a finger at me. “I’ve been trying to help you.”
“Trying to help me?” I scoffed, narrowing my eyes at him. “You fucking sent me away. You’re helping because you feel guilty, and you pity me.”
“I’m helping because I don’t want to see someone else die this way,” he said quietly, desperately trying to rein in my fury, but the scathing undertones in his voice were just detectable.
I laughed harshly, ignoring the tears that were now brimming, and looked Brian in the eye.
“I am not your fucking wife,” I spat, “and I am not your responsibility.”
The second the words had left my mouth, I knew. I knew I’d said something awful. Brian faltered to a silent stop, but his eyes conveyed a million emotions for him. The chill of regret flooded through my veins, instantly snuffing the fiery anger that had been there just moments before.
“Brian,” I tried, but he shook his head vigorously and stormed out of the room.
I groaned at myself for losing my cool. The last thing I needed was another breakdown between myself and Brian. That hadn’t gone so well last time. I gingerly slipped down from the stool, testing my weight on each leg before hobbling after him. I wasn’t the fastest walker at present, so I’d no idea which direction he’d actually gone in. There was no sign of him in the lounge though, so he was either up or out. Going outside wasn’t the smartest option, so I made for the stairs. One by one, I heaved myself up them excruciatingly slowly. Three steps up, I called his name. No response. Seven steps up, I called his name. Still no response. Was he outside, or just ignoring me? I collapsed into the corner of the staircase, sliding down the wall carefully until I was sat awkwardly on one of the corner steps, panting. Why am I such an idiot? I chided myself.
Hearing footsteps upon the landing, I looked up hopefully to be met by his deep brown eyes. He heaved a sigh as his eyes fell over my pathetically sprawled body.
“Please can we talk?” I begged, “I don’t want to leave it on words I didn’t mean.”
“You didn’t mean, or you didn’t mean to say?” he asked, looking at me skeptically. I winced under his judgemental glare.
“I didn’t mean them,” I replied, as sincerely as I could. I held his gaze, pleading with my eyes for understanding. He stood for a moment, clearly conflicted. Eventually, I saw his eyelids flicker closed with relent and he nodded.
He descended the stairs, approaching my slouched figure, “Let me help you back to bed.”

“Thank you,” I winced, as he helped me lower myself onto the rickety sofa bed. I’d only been back in the room for ten seconds, and already the cabin fever was creeping in. I ignored it, knowing that it would only cause problems if I let it sweep me up in another whirlwind romance.
“For fuck’s sake,” he sighed, eyeing the swollen, red protest my wound was putting up.
“I know,” I mumbled, guiltily, as he dug around the first aid kit at his feet.
“I don’t know what to do with it,” he confessed, as he straightened himself out, emptyhanded.
I shrugged, gently, “I don’t either.”
Quiet fell over us as I tried to get my breath back and Brian became increasingly interested in the bandages and swabs that he admittedly had no idea about. I touched his back, feeling him stiffen under my fingertips.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, withdrawing my hand. “I didn’t mean it at all.”
He remained still and stone-faced, “That’s a shit apology.”
“I know,” I nodded, “I don’t know how to make up for what I said. I’m so grateful for what you’ve done. I’d still be in that place if you hadn’t come for me. I’d probably be dead.”
“I couldn’t leave you there. Jimmy would never have either,” he replied, his voice low.
“Even after what I did, you still came for me,” I answered, smiling sadly at him. “And after what I just said, you’re still willing to listen to me now. You’re a kind person, Brian, even when you’re hurting. You’re more than I could ever be.”
“I wasn’t kind when I told you to leave,” he countered, pressing his lips together at the memory.
“You had your reasons,” I reminded him, cringing slightly at my Blair hunt. “My point is, I seem to be constantly wronging you, and I’m so sorry. I really don’t deserve your patience right now.”
Brian sat beside me, heavily, and looked over at me as he chewed the inside of his lip.
“I think you’re doing okay,” he shrugged, “given the circumstances.”
“Oh, come on, Brian. I think I’ve fallen out with everyone here,” I laughed, lightly, though it was a grim realisation in reality.
“You haven’t fallen out with Zach yet,” Brian offered, limply. For some reason, he was trying earnestly to make me feel better. Another kindness offered up from beneath his broody exterior. I appreciated the sentiment, but at the same time, my lip was twitching into a smile. Brian caught this, and it seemed to infect him as he mirrored my restrained grin.
“Yeah,” I agreed with a smirk, “he’s next on the list, though.”
We both snickered, and Brian nudged me with his elbow, playfully.
“I don’t think even a firecracker like yourself could bait Zach into an argument,” he laughed.
“Well, I go at it with Johnny more than enough to make up for it,” I half-joked, letting a frown cloud my face. Brian’s own smile dropped as he sighed.
“Johnny’s not such a bad guy,” he remarked. I raised my eyebrows, which he caught. He tilted his head at me, “Kind of like you, you know…”
“I’m like Johnny?” I asked, taken aback at his statement.
A smile picked at the corner of his lips, “When you two fight, you’re both just hiding from your own guilt. Like if you can shout loud enough, you can drown it out; or if you can wrap it up in a little ball of anger, you can disguise it and pretend you don’t recognise it for a minute.”
I considered his words for a moment, letting them wash around me. Was it all just deflection, like he said? I’d thought Brian had been hiding from Blair, but then, I’d been hiding too. I barely ever let Esther grace my thoughts, and Viola’s name hadn’t crossed my lips until I’d met Jimmy. I looked up and wandered into his dark eyes as they watched me.
“Can we start again?” I asked, quietly. He smiled and extended his arm towards me.
“Brian,” he nodded, waiting for my hand.
I slipped it into his and gave it a light shake, “Marina.”

“Why are you guys shaking hands?” Hallie frowned from the doorway. My niece, Queen of Bad Timing and Unashamed Questions. She looked between the two of us, wearing a look somewhere between confusion and amusement. “Whatever, so it turns out I can’t light fires-”
“You were trying to light a fire?!” I choked out, making Brian sputter with laughter. “Oh my god, Hal, you’ll burn the place down!”
“Well, how else do you think I’d get hot water for you?” she retorted, clearly unimpressed with my lack of faith in her abilities.
“Tell you what, I’ll sort out some hot water,” Brian offered, smiling at her, “and you can get the invalid some peanut butter.”
“Peanut butter?” she repeated with interest, looking at me now with a devilish smile.
“You can bring two spoons,” I replied, returning her grin. She punched the air with a whoop and disappeared in a flash. Brian chuckled lightly at her enthusiastic departure, standing to follow.
“Brian?” I stopped him, shrinking a little under his inquisitive gaze. “I really didn’t mean what I said earlier.”
“It’s already forgotten,” he shrugged, giving me a small smile. He turned away, and quietly took his leave. I laid myself back into my pillows, content for now that thing were remedied between myself and Brian. I only wish I could have said the same for Johnny…

Notes

Help, I can't stop writing spontaneous drama. Someone needs to rein Marina in!