I puked again, cutting him off.
“I feel like I’m… hungover,” I rasped out.
“Obviously you're not,” he said.
“Food poisoning?” I grumbled.
My stomach settled enough that I pushed myself up off the floor and went back to my bed, pushing past him again. I laid on my side, curling my legs all the way, and pulling the blanket tight around me.
“What did you eat last night?” he asked.
“Lasagna,” I said.
“Hmm, I had that too, but I’m fine.”
“Right after I ate it, I felt really tired—” I gasped.
“What?” he asked.
“The girl—your girlfriend—she said that lasagna had that effect when I told her I was tired,” I said.
“Stupid girl,” he muttered.
Then he turned and walked away. The door opened, shut again, and then the lock clicked into place. He had just left me here. Something he wasn’t supposed to do. My entire body felt tired and weak. My eyes were heavy. I tried to keep them open, but they closed, and I drifted back into sleep again.
My eyes flashed open; the sound of the door slamming had startled me. It took my eyes a few seconds to clear and focus. The door in my room was still open, and he stood in the far doorway, staring at me. He looked at the ground, shook his head, and then walked out of view.
My stomach felt better than it had earlier when I was awake. I turned my head toward the little clock on the floor. Eleven twenty-nine. Holy crap. Yet, I still felt exhausted; my stomach may not have been burning, but exhaustion was heavy.I didn’t care, though. I wanted to know why he left so abruptly earlier. I swung my legs to the side and stood up. My legs felt so heavy. I walked through the doorway and stopped. He sat on the small couch, feet up on the table. He lifted his eyes from his book.
“What’s going on?” I asked, barely above a whisper, my head still had a slight ache.
“Nothing,” he said, then looked back down at his book.
“Nothing?” I repeated.
“Nope, guess you just got sick,” he said.
“Who was the girl?” I asked.
“A nobody.”
The bright sun seeping through the windows was blinding, making the pain throb behind my eyes. I turned around, walked back into my room, and shut the door behind me. I poppedThe Lion Kinginto the VHS player and turned on the TV. I crawled back into the bed and pulled the blanket up and around me. I didn’t have the energy to pry anything from him.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Quinnlyn’s angry voice woke me up. Even with the door closed, I heard him. I walked to the door and cracked it open. Quinnlyn was standing at the door, which was slightly cracked. I couldn’t see who he was talking to. He shifted his eyes, looking at me for a brief second before looking at whoever he was talking to again.
“Had too… howling… heard… Ravik… orders…” the voice said.
I couldn’t make out all of what the male on the other side was saying. What I heard made no sense.
“I should be let in on these decisions, and not blindsided,” Quinnlyn said, his voice low but not low enough.
“You’re not… Ravik… Novo.”
Novo? Howling? My mind was spinning. What the hell were they talking about?
“Talk later,” Quinnlyn said, before shutting and locking the door.
He then went back to the couch, sat down, grabbed his book, and continued reading. I stared at him, my head tilted to the side a little bit, but he never looked up. I stepped back into the room, leaving the door cracked this time. I grabbed the werewolf book from the stack of books they had brought from the cell. I hadn’t read more of it since it gave me nightmares.