He had been holding me by the neck for ten minutes already. Goosebumps spread across my legs as cold air rushed in through the wide-open window, and I prayed in my head that someone would accidentally show up and rescue me and Jeremy.
"How's it going?" Malachai spat on the floor.
"Almost ready," Joshua replied.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked. With his strong grip it was hard to breathe, and a faint moan escaped me. But it was useless. Again, I lost whatever breath I had left, and I started regretting why I had even spoken. Malachai tilted his head up and down, looking tired of the question, as if he knew the answer but couldn't bring himself to say it out loud.
"Why not?" he shuddered.
Joshua shouted something I couldn't understand. Breathing heavily, he got up from the floor and approached Malachai with a syringe.
"You know how to use this?" he asked in a low voice.
"Maybe… you do it," Malachai answered uncertainly. Joshua looked at me. He touched my neck and straightened me toward him. I didn't struggle — I didn't even think of it.
"Did you drink water today?" he asked. The question threw me off, so absurd that I thought I misheard.
"Not much."
He stepped back a few paces, turned, and reached for a bottle of water lying on the floor.
"What's going on?" James sniffled after a moment.
"I don't see veins on his arm…"
"What do you mean you don't see?" James cut him off.
"I mean they're not as visible as ours, so…"
"Can that be fixed?"
"That's what I'm saying — if you'd stop interrupting me every damn second!" he yelled. I hadn't seen him angry in a long time, and I had never seen him yell at James before. That was new. James gestured with his fingers for him to continue.
"Go on," he added.
"When you don't drink enough water, the body gets a bit dehydrated and the veins aren't pumped up. They look like they're hiding under the skin. When you're properly hydrated, blood flows better and the veins show more," Joshua turned to me and tossed me the water bottle.
"How long until the veins show?" Malachai tapped my collarbone with his fingertips. He used to do that when we were about fourteen, but stopped after rumors spread he might be gay because he stood too close to me — from then until now he'd never touched my collarbone again. "Drink."
I unscrewed the cap, took the first sip. The water was cold, refreshing, and cooled my teeth, while my throat no longer felt dry.
"He needs more," Joshua ordered. So I did as told, holding the bottle against my mouth and taking three more sips. Malachai cursed under his breath, grabbed my hand with his free one, and shoved the bottle hard against my teeth.
"Drink. Hurry up."
Before I knew it, the entire bottle was gone in the blink of an eye, and Malachai threw it into a corner. "I think we're ready," he said.
***
They did it. They injected the substance into me and threw me onto the bed. They'd spilled out more than they were supposed to — the dose was too strong and I vomited immediately on the floor. Now I was lying on my back for… I don't even know how long. I felt different. I didn't know whether I liked it or not, only that it was a sensation I had never experienced before.
"It hit him hard," someone said.
"Maybe too hard," another voice added.
"So what do we do with him?" a third voice joined in.
I tried lifting my head, but it was splitting open with pain, and another surge of vomit rose in my throat. I barely held it back at the last moment before a complete disaster.
"What?" I muttered to myself, unable to control it.
"He's saying something."
The voices grew clearer, sharper. I turned my head toward their chairs. Sitting there were only Jeremy and Joshua. Three people were missing. As I wondered where they had gone, my eyes darted quickly to the bed where I lay — and there, resting on it, was a hand.
"Who's that…?"