Tile floors. A dismantled battery generator on the coffee table. Laundry on the couch. Dishes on the kitchen bench. A screwdriver and a bottle of glue beside an upside-down chair. Pliers above the microwave, next to a container full of different pills. A rug with one corner burned. The unplugged speakers around the TV.
Ordus brought me back.
I’m so happy, I could cry.
Adrenaline surges through my veins, filling me with energy I haven’t had in however long. I point to the fridge, mouth refusing to work.
The world spins and sways as he rushes over to it. I wriggle in his grip, wordlessly ordering him to set me down. He keeps saying things I can’t make sense of, but eventually, he relents, keeping me upright with tentacles wrapped around my body. I fumble for the fridge door. It takes three tries to get it open, and I don’t think it was me who did it.
The blast of cold air pushes me closer to consciousness. The only reason I don’t surge for the big bottle ofPocari Sweatis because Ordus changes my movements to a gentle reach by manipulating my body.
I grip the cap with my trembling hands, struggling to get it open. When Ordus takes it from me, I whimper, desperate to do anything for even a drop.
As soon as he hands it to me, I bring it to my lips and greedily gulp the sweet beverage without regard to the cramps piercing my stomach. Liquid streams from the corners of my lips down to my collarbones, mixing in with the saltwater trickling from my matted hair.
I don’t stop until I’m sputtering on the floor, coughing up a storm that rattles my bones. The bottle clatters across the kitchen as I heave for breath. Dark spots swim in my vision, fatigue sinking into my marrow.
More.
That can’t possibly be enough to replenish me.
I scramble through the fridge for another bottle of anything with electrolytes. I only manage two more gulps before I’m hacking it up on the tile like Vasz does when he chases the waves.
I’m distantly aware of the hand caressing my back. For a second, it belongs to Tommy, not the ten-foot monster who had me trapped on an island in the middle of nowhere. But the instant the thought takes hold, that purr starts up, deep in Ordus’ chest, that has my body relaxing for reasons I can’t begin to explain.
This time, when I move, I’m not buzzing with frantic energy. I grab the leftovernasi gorengandsate ayamand spoon the rice and chicken combo into my mouth with my pruning fingers. My stomach growls at the fifth mouthful, and I lurch to the side, feeling everything I’ve consumed rush up my chest.
Fuck, maybe I should have gone easy.
I pant as I keel onto my side to lean against the kitchen cupboard. My eyes drift shut in my concentration to keep the contents of my stomach on the inside of my body. Carbs, protein, and electrolytes. Surely, that’s what doctors recommend. It’s the best I’ve got, since I doubt Ordus will be escorting me to a hospital to get IV’d anytime soon.
When I finally have the energy to reopen my eyes, morning light streams through the slits of boards on the other side of my bedroom window.
My brows furrow. How did I get in here?
How long was I asleep?
I groan as I push myself up on the mattress. The pounding in my head isn’t as bad, but it’s still there, a constant irritant that makes the light stab into my eyes like I’m being lobotomized.
The room is the same haphazard mess I left it in; a suitcase ready to go next to my emergency “fuck-off” bag. The newestaddition to my place is the sprawling tentacles between me and my escape, plus a shark-dog rolling around my rug with a coconut husk in his mouth.
I won’t delude myself into thinking I’ll be able to outrun him. I couldn’t at full capacity, and I sure as shit can’t when the grim reaper is picking his nails, waiting for me to kick the bucket.
Now, I somehow need to convince a literal monster staying here is a good idea.
The soft cotton sheets feel wrong against my dry, grimy skin. Every inhale is sandpaper against my dry throat. I need water. Hell, a coffee would make me worse, but I would kill for one.
The bed creaks when I move, and both creatures whip their heads my way. Ordus is up and on his feet—tentaclesthe moment his eyes land on me.
His eyes are crinkled at the edges, looking at me with enough concern to hit me in my windpipe. All over again, I’m wishing I could hate him for all this, wish I could forget the way he touched me so gently, how he sometimes softens from the mere sound of my voice. He brought me more fish and a couple different crabs, spouting something about how one of them might be right for me, and then he holds my bad arm and massages the tense muscles.
He’s lonely. He didn’t need to say it for me to see it when his sheer desperation for me to show him even an ounce of positive attention oozes from his pores. His eyes brighten with a flicker ofsomethingevery time I look at him. I don’t miss the barest curve of his lips every time I let his tentacle wrap around me.
Also, it’s not an excuse, but I don’t think he knows any better.
I can’t entirely fault him for not being familiar with how another species feeds, but I’d expect some level of research first before taking one prisoner.
I won’t thank him for bringing me here when he’s the reason I’m like this to begin with. If you thank people for the bare minimum, you’ll teach them mediocrity is the standard.
