Chapter 40: Karina & Silo

KARINA

Karina chewed on her lip as she sat by Silo’s bedside. The hospital room was much more settled now that the older Zibon had finally woken up.

The head doctor, Miktar, with the brown hair, seemed particularly happy. Every now and then, one of the medics would come over and check on Silo. He wasn’t unconscious, but he was sleeping almost continuously, to the point where they’d put a needle in his arm and had hung up a bag of fluid.

And it was all ~her~ fault. The guilt gnawed at her intestines. Had she actually transferred her trauma onto him?

Surely it was impossible—so ~much~ of this was impossible—and yet everyone seemed to think it true. Did they blame her? She’d met the yellow eyes of several passing aliens, but none of them seemed angry.

They were curious, for sure. But not angry. Karina looked down at her hands in disbelief. Everything still felt so odd, like she was in the middle of some kind of bizarre dream.

She pressed her fingertips to her right temple—she didn’t feel like she was alive. Silo rolled over onto his back and opened his eyes. Karina didn’t speak.

She didn’t look at him, lowering her eyes to her lap, afraid to startle him, afraid to make him uncomfortable, though she so desperately wanted to touch him. So desperate it was like a pain in her chest she couldn’t shift.

She remembered how only days before the thought of touching him made her sick. It had made her ~physically~ sick.

She heard him speak.

“Karina,” Silo said.

He gave her a faint smile that made Karina’s heart lurch in her chest. He hadn’t smiled since he’d collapsed. In fact, he hadn’t shown any kind of emotion except anger.

He’d barely spoken. Now, he was making eye contact. It made Karina dare to hope.

“I’m sorry,” he said, turning his eyes to the ceiling.

“You’re sorry? I’m sorry! I’m the one who did this to you.”

Earlier that night, Miktar had explained to Silo what had happened, but Karina wasn’t sure whether he’d actually understood much in his fugue state. As he turned his glittering yellow eyes to her now, she could see that he had.

He smiled again. “Actually, it was my fault. I’m the one who snatched you from home, remember? This was what I wanted.”

He grimaced, and Karina felt a throb in her temples.

“You’re in pain,” she said.

“Some. But I’m getting better. Is this…is this what it was like for you?”

“Sometimes.”

He gazed at her with his bright yellow eyes. They bored so deeply into her, Karina was forced to turn away.

“You’re awake. How do you feel?” They both looked up at Miktar.

Silo dragged his fingers over his scalp. “Better.”

Miktar looked at Silo’s monitor. “All your vitals are good—and you’ve had no further seizures.”

“I can’t even remember it,” Silo admitted.

“You wouldn’t. Do you know where you are, what day it is, why exactly you’re here?” Miktar asked.

Silo answered all questions correctly.

“When can I leave?”

This time Miktar was more worried than pleased. “Not yet. We’re still not sure what’s going on with you.”

“I feel better,” Silo said.

“He feels fine,” Karina said, supporting him.

Miktar looked at Karina. “And how do ~you~ feel?”

“Perfect,” she answered. “~Too~ perfect.”

“You are a fascinating pair.”

Karina shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “When can I take him back?”

“Like I said, I’m not sure.”

“He can’t stay here forever. I want him to come back with me.”

Silo smiled.

Miktar shook his head as he began tapping his finger against Silo’s monitor. “I’m not sure that’s wise.” He eyed Silo. “How are your emotions?”

Leaning back into his pillow, Silo gazed up at the ceiling. “More in control.” He licked his lips. “That rage—that conflict.” He touched his head. “It seems to be fading. I feel… calmer.”

“I want to do another scan,” Miktar said.

Karina sighed.

“It’s for your safety as much as Silo’s,” Miktar told her. “Your aggression is one thing. As for Silo… I wouldn’t feel right if I thought you were in danger, in a small room together with Silo’s strength.”

“I’m not going to hurt her,” Silo said. “I would never hurt her.”

“He’s not going to hurt me,” Karina agreed. “The bond…”

“Are you sure about that?” Miktar said.

Silo glared.

“I can’t guarantee the bond won’t prevent injury or violence,” Miktar continued. “We’re in unknown territory. Silo…it’s like a sickness.”

“Scan me,” he said, sitting up, his fists tight around the bedcover. “Scan me again. I’m much better.”

“Perhaps.” Miktar looked at Karina. “I want your head scanned too, just to be sure you’re in the clear.”

“Absolutely.”

Miktar left. Silo leaned back into his pillows with a sigh. “I’m glad. I’m glad this happened.”

“I’m not.”

His yellow eyes met hers. “I can’t wait to get to know you—the way you really are.”

A warmth that didn’t come from her spread across Karina’s chest. It made her feel light and airy. She leaned over without thinking, as though somebody was thrusting her forward, and kissed him on the mouth.

It was just a peck, but Silo jerked back.

“Sorry!” she said.

Abruptly the warmth vanished. Instead, Karina felt an unexpected coldness seeping into their bond. Silo revealed nothing, gazing hard into his lap.

Miktar quickly returned and redid the scans. A couple of medics stood alongside the specialist, looking on curiously. Their yellow eyes darted between Karina and Silo.

Miktar raised his eyebrows. “There is an improvement, for sure. The scar tissue on Silo’s brain seems to be fading.”

Karina’s heart fluttered. “Really? How?”

“Well, Zibons don’t suffer from brain injury like you do. Perhaps…perhaps our brains are self-healing,” he said. His forehead furrowed. “It is only a hypothesis. We’ll have to keep this monitored.”

Karina grabbed Silo’s hand. “But he can leave.”

“But they’re still there—the streaks,” Silo said. He was looking worried. He slid his hand out of Karina’s. “Perhaps…perhaps I ~should~ stay a little longer.”

“Silo?” Karina said.

He looked at her.

“I’m not fixed yet. Like Miktar said, what if I get angry? What if I—what if I hit you? Like…” He paused.

“…like I did you.”

Immediately, tears pricked Karina’s eyes as she thought back on what she’d done to him. She looked away. It hurt to think of it. It hurt like a kick in the chest.

“I can’t believe I did that.”

“You were a different person,” Miktar said. “Your scan shows it.”

“It’s clear?” Silo said hopefully. “Completely?”

Miktar nodded. “The streaks are gone.”

Karina stared at Silo. That strange coldness was sweeping through their bond again. Then she saw that his hands were shaking.

There was a deep crease in his forehead.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him.

“I need you to leave. Just—just for a little while.” He took a breath. “Let me—let me talk with Miktar.”

Karina didn’t move.

“Go!” he snapped.

Karina jerked back. Glancing at Miktar, she stood, turned, and hurried away.

The moment she left the infirmary and the door shut behind her, she burst into tears.

SILO

“It’s happening again,” Silo said.

“What?”

Silo licked his lips. “I don’t feel good.” His hands couldn’t stop shaking. There was a pressure in his chest he couldn’t describe.

It felt a little like he was dying. Then came the roar in his ears like waves crashing upon the sand—and then the darkness swept over him.

Slowly, Silo opened his eyes. He was lying on his side, his arm flung out across the mattress. His fingers were twitching.

His vision was blurry. He felt so weak that it took all his effort to roll onto his back. For several moments, he stared into the gleaming light above, squinting.

It hurt his eyes, but he didn’t know what else to do.

“Silo.”

Silo frowned, recognizing the voice but unable to put a name to it. He turned his head and saw a man with long brown hair gazing down at him.

“Miktar,” Silo croaked. He reached down to touch a pinch in the crook of his arm—it was a second needle.

“You had another seizure,” Miktar explained.

His hand shaking, Silo touched his head with a wince. “Headache.”

“I’m not surprised.”

He dropped his hand away with a grimace. “Why? Karina never did.”

“It probably took years to develop those scars. You’re suffering them suddenly. I suppose your brain is struggling to cope.”

“I thought I was supposed to be healing.”

“I didn’t say that. I said you ~could~ be healing. The streaks are still there, Silo, at least for the moment. Give it time.”

He grabbed his head. “I feel odd around her. Things don’t seem to be working properly. I love her and yet…”

He jerked upright, then fell back down again weakly. “Where is she?”

“She’s waiting outside.”

“I hurt her.”

~Go!—~ his own voice echoed in his ears. He’d been ~angry~. He’d been angry and defensive, and he didn’t know why.

It was like it came out of nowhere. It wasn’t like him at all. Miktar was right: he couldn’t go anywhere with her.

~He’d hurt her and it hurt him.~ ~He could sense her tears. He could feel it right in the chest, like someone was squeezing his heart. How could his brain be so screwed up? How had Karina even functioned?~

“It’s not your fault,” Miktar said.

“I should have been more patient with her, before—before we bonded. This is hard.” He touched his head again.

“Did you want me to get her?”

Silo nodded. Miktar left and moments later Karina arrived, her face lowered, keeping her distance.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, reaching out for her.

She came over and tentatively took his hand. “You’re sick. I’m sorry.”

Silo squeezed her hand. “What happened to you that it should be like this?”

Karina opened her mouth, then shut it. “I’ll tell you later.”

He reached up to stroke the scars down her arm. Then he studied the paint on her neck.

“No wonder. No wonder.” He sighed. “I’m going to stay a while longer.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Karina said.

“But when we go back, you’re going to tell me everything. ~Everything~.”

Karina didn’t respond.