As I heard the impact, Joseph’s cries soared to the rafters.
A sick kind of “Ha!” escaped my lips. Because I knew it. I knew all along that it would end this way. I was never going to get to keep him.
Noises bit at my ears, deep cries, clattering, men bashing against each other, and shoes scuffling across the polished tiles. My eyes only caught one thing—the look of surprise on the guard’s face, his fuzzy, blond eyebrows pulled together, his eyes wide and shining with regret.
I pulled at it; the knife was endless, sliding through flesh like the body was a sheath. Finally, it slipped quietly from my hands and landed on the edge of the rug with a tinny clang, sunk hilt deep in crimson blood.
An irritated squeal pierced my ears.
Blood should be warm, shouldn’t it? But it felt cold, it felt watery, and there was so much. Too much.
Joseph appeared above me, his body shaking, or maybe it was me, I couldn’t tell. “What have you done?” His words were breathy, fear scraping away sound.
I shook my head; it swayed back and forth, like it was pushing against something. I was so tired. My lips tried to move, but the pull of a dark, warm sleep crawled over me. My eyes closed to slits, an image projected on the inside of my lids… Joseph, asleep in our ratty chair, Orry cradled comfortably in the curve of his elbow. Peaceful.
I felt serene, a calm I never thought I would experience washing over me in overlapping waves.
Orry, I kept my…………
All I could see was red. Red splashes, explosions, surprised, red faces like meat as I slammed into one after another. Sharp bangs and crumpled bodies. And then Este, her hands pulled taut at her sides, squealing with her eyes squeezed shut, like she was having a tantrum, and then silence.
Minutes passed and, when I finally stopped moving, swinging, grabbing, the guards were lying in a circle around me like toppled dominoes, and Deshi was as white as his lab coat. I looked down at my hands, one was splattered red, and the other was gripping a gun. It felt heavy and cold in my palm. My hand shook like it couldn’t take the weight. I let it fall to the ground, the dull clunk out of proportion to what I saw around me.
They were all dead.
I put my hand to my mouth, but it came away sticky and tasting of copper. Bile rose in my throat. This wasn’t me. I couldn’t have done this. I looked at the faces, open mouths, eyes half shut, grimaces forced slack, the mouths wrong and still. And Este. She lay twisted over the arm of the plush, velvet lounge, her arm splayed dramatically over her forehead, her hands still in tight fists, blood spreading across her jacket.
A hand cupped my shoulder, and I twisted around violently, panting, every muscle in my chest tight. “What have you done?” Deshi asked, bewildered. He stood back from me, frightened.
The words nudged me. What have you done?
I glanced over to where she fell, to where she threw her body between the blade and me. The picture was so familiar, but everything was different. She lay curled around the knife, her body forming a c-shape, her hair fanned around her face. But this time, she wasn’t curled around her own weapon. And this time, she made no sound; I couldn’t see the rise and fall of her ribs. Her eyes were slits, but I could see the whites, and her lips were parted, her small, pink tongue lying in the corner of her mouth, the way it would when she was concentrating on something. And all around her was blood, sliding its way towards the edge of the rug in a bulging circle.
My breathing thinned out, and then it stopped.
Rosa was dead.
Everything clouded over, and darkness settled over this room of death.
Deshi knelt down and checked her pulse, mine picked up in hope, but he shook his head, his breath catching in his throat. He looked at me with tears in his eyes and spoke. He said something, his face urgent and concerned, but I couldn’t hear him. I just stared at her lifeless body, wondering how all of what made her Rosa was just gone, and all that was left was a body, bones and flesh.
Where did she go, and how could I follow her?
What was she thinking?
I thought of Orry, and I sunk to my knees. Orry, your mother is dead. Orry, your mother died to save me. Orry, she loved you, she loves you. She will always love you.
This couldn’t be happening.
I punched my fist into the tiles, because I couldn’t stand the pain; I needed to feel something else, anything else. But all my mind, my heart, my body, kept pulsing over and over again was dead, dead, dead.
My skin tore and shards of grout stuck to my knuckles. I didn’t look up; I just kept on pounding until I heard the rip of fabric. I looked up and saw Deshi yanking a curtain from the window. He walked over to Rosa and knelt down beside her. Looking at me darkly, he said angrily, “Get up and help me!”
I did what I was told. I would have been confused if I could bring myself to care. He lifted her body gently and slid the curtain under her middle. She bent in a disgustingly unnatural way, and I gagged as I saw some of her insides.
Everything quickened. My breath, my movements. Deshi wrapped her together tightly and tried to speak again. This time, I tried really hard to listen.
“There’s a chance we can save her, but we need to be fast. Joseph, look at me,” Deshi said, his dark eyes intense. “Why do you think they wanted me in the first place?”
I blinked and ran my hand through my hair. I felt stupid. Nothing was getting through.
“They forced me to rebuild the healer.”
The realization hit me hard. I snapped Rosa up, trying to ignore how much lighter she felt in my arms. How very cold she was.
Deshi ran ahead. I followed, my eyes forward. Because when I looked down at her head lolling around at the bounce of my steps, I thought I would vomit. This was not meant to happen. I wanted to go back to that moment, put myself between her body and the blade, not the other way around.
He turned down corridors and up some stairs. All I could hear was the drum of my blood in my ears, and the drum of our feet on the tiled floors.
When we hit a dead end, Deshi swore, typing a password into the keypad by the door, a single red light blinking over and over. “C’mon, work, work…” he said.
We watched as the light flashed red and then green, the seal of the door opening with a sucking sound.
*****
The machine was the same as the one from home. I placed her gently on the slab and started inserting needles in her skin, as many as I could find. I tried to pretend she was sleeping, but it didn’t work. I knew this might not work.
The glass coffin wobbled and lowered. I urged it to hurry up. They would be coming soon.
“Block the door!” Deshi yelled as he quickly pried open Rosa’s cold, stiff hand and pressed two pills into her palm, closing it over roughly.
I grabbed a chair and shoved it under the door handle, turning to see the glass close over her body. A glass coffin for this nightmare fairytale. Deshi was frantically typing and pushing buttons at the control panel, his eyes darting towards the blocked door.
He slammed down a final key and then looked at me, his eyes apologetic but fierce. “We have to go.”
I shook my head. “No. I’m not leaving her. I can’t.” I pressed my hands to the glass separating us. The machine started whirring in the background.
Deshi grabbed my arm and pulled. “What about Orry?”
I shook my head; my legs were cemented to the floor. Deshi sighed harshly. “Rosa didn’t throw herself on that knife so both of you could die and leave Orry an orphan.”