Page 73 of Toy No More

‘Use of suppressants is discouraged while recovering as they might interfere with the body’s natural ability to self-regulate and—’

I stop reading and nervously glance to the side. I’m sure the ones I had will be fine.

‘The overexposure can be fatal in certain rare cases.’

By some miracle, I’m still alive.

‘Likely to trigger heat, or heat-like symptoms.’

Crap.Groaning in frustration, I rest my head back against the wall. Heat is the last thing I need right now. I already feel so out of it I can’t even tell if I’m feeling the symptoms of it or just the aftermath of what Jasper did to me.

I try to find out how long I’m going to feel this way, and most places state a couple of days, depending on the severity and length of overexposure. So, the two days Jasper graciously allowed me will have to do.

Finally, as I mindlessly scroll, my eyes get heavy and I realize I’m not really processing any of the words on the screen, so I put the phone aside and lay back down.

I wake up again drenched in cold sweat but somewhat rested. My head doesn’t hurt as much.Small victories.

After carefully moving the blinds, I discover that it’s already dark outside. I grab my phone in horror to realize I slept almost the entire day. There are no sounds coming from beyond my room, and the time itself would confirm that Marci is probably out with Skyler, either picking him up from school or doing something nice after.

Skyler.I didn’t even talk to him. He must be worried about me. I need to get my shit together.

Somehow, I force myself into the shower. Marci must’ve come in at some point while I was asleep and got me some more medication and water, because they’re on my nightstand.

I take the pills for my headache but leave the suppressants. The online article said I should avoid them, so I better be safe. The reasonable thing would be to go to a doctor and get checked, but I never was a reasonable kind of guy.

Moving around isn’t as arduous anymore. The strength in my muscles has gone down to about twenty percent, my bones feel brittle, and if I had to walk up the stairs, I’d probably pass out, but it’s finally starting to feel like my body is mine again. While putting on clothes is uncomfortable, I can handle it. I even manage to change my sheets so that I don’t have to lie in my own filth and get a cold on top of everything.

Actually ingesting something seems a tall order, but I force myself to go to the kitchen and at least have a piece of toast. The mere idea of anything else makes me want to hurl.

I run my hands through my hair, still wet from the shower, and search for the bread. Skyler always leaves stuff in the most bizarre locations. Makes it a little fun game to find whatever one needs half the time.

A knock on the door startles me.

My mind must still be messed up, because Jasper is the first person who pops into my head.

Had he come to finish me? No. No, that's not it.

Apollo appears right after, but I think he’d message beforehand. With hesitancy, I step toward the door and peer through the peephole.

Two people wait outside. A man and a woman. They both wear sleek trench coats, with dress shirts underneath. Something inside me responds in fear and uncertainty, whether it’s my gut or paranoia. Their put-together and professional visage definitely makes them look like detectives, but they could also be just trying to sell me some crap.

I try to sneak away, making them think I’m not home—since I didn’t turn on any lights to spare my sensitive eyes—but as I’m turning, I bump into the shoe rack next to the door and let out a sharp yelp. If they didn’t hear that, they heard the shoes hitting the wall right after.Dammit! I should’ve stayed in bed.

Another knock.

Sighing, I lean in to check again. Instead of their faces, I see their badges.

Federal agents? Fuck me. This is bad.

“I’m Agent Evans and this is Agent Colton. We’re here to ask a few questions, Mr. Saber.”

My stomach feels like a wet rag someone is trying to squeeze dry. I’ve never been worried about the police. Not as much as I should. After all, I’m only a driver. But that’s just been another way for me to ignore the truth. Criminals get caught eventually, and they pay for their crimes. I’ve done enough things to be considered one in the eyes of the law.

But federal investigators? That’s bigger. Worse.

They know I’m here, so I release the lock, but leave the latch on. That way, they at least can’t push in.

Peeking at them through the gap, I inspect their badges.Like you have any damn idea what a real badge should look like.“Um, what’s this about?” I ask with hesitation while gripping the door, itching to slam it shut.

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