Page 136 of Eight of Swords, Part Two

He loses himself almost entirely.

He bites his other wrist, but the blood clots too fast.

His own body betrays him over and over. Sometimes he feels a distinct split between him and his body. A hostile degree of disconnection that makes him feel lonelier than ever, and during the course of that year, Riley loses part of himself with no hope of ever finding it.

Maybe he can die in pieces, in stages.

All he has to keep him sane are the dreams. He’d never leave them if he had a choice because he’s not alone there. Riley would stay forever with the other boy, and their feet are in the sand while they look out at the ocean and the moon is above and everything is somehow good.

But he always wakes up, carved to pieces by a sense of loss he has no way to cope with. Death would be a reprieve, but he’s too tired and sad to take any real action and his traitorous body heals too fast anyway.

A year of grey, sluggish hell and dreary grief for a life he’ll never have. Sand and sunshine and stars and grass.

Julian. His brother.

He survives the year.

Barely.

When Riley is fourteen, everything gets so much worse.

✴

He’s fourteen and he’s dying.

Vicious, violent pain ravages the core of his body, shredding his guts, his organs, his stomach, all of him beneath the skin. Riley can’t even scream because he’d need breath for that and he has none, none, none to spare.

It draws the attention of the men who come to check on him and then he hears Troy’s heartbeat and smells grey, cold stone and all Riley’s feral plans to bite this man to death are washed away.

In this much pain, all he wants is help.

‘Please,’ he begs. It’s the first word he’s spoken in a year. ‘Please.’

‘Get the doc,’ Troy instructs his men.

‘Are you sure we should—?’

‘NOW!’

‘Yes, boss.’

Troy touches Riley’s forehead. ‘You’re burning up, kid. Open your eyes.’ Riley tries, but the light hurts his skull the way a baseball bat hurts bones. ‘You’ve got a fever. Riley, listen to me. You’ve got a really high fever. Could be an infection from the feeding tube.’

‘Kill me,’ Riley begs like a child. ‘Please j-just… kill me.’

Troy’s resolve hardens. ‘That’s not happening on my watch.’ Someone else comes inside. ‘He’s burning up, doc.’

It’s that same shitty doctor who looked in Riley’s ears. ‘Let me see him.’

‘Riley, you’re gonna let the doc help you now,’ Troy informs him calmly. Riley, who couldn’t fight back to save his life, sobs wetly, curled up tight. ‘No biting, you got it?’

‘Yes.’

Troy holds Riley’s hand while Riley endures prodding and checks.

When they stop, Troy asks, ‘What’s wrong with him?’

‘His fever is through the roof,’ the doctor says. ‘Never seen one this high. Riley, what were you doing before? Running? Exercising?’