by V. K. Ludwig
They were proud of me. I was fucking ashamed of myself.
“Now,” Claire continued, “Laura has also recently experienced the loss of a child, which is why I would like her to speak next. Remember, we don’t interrupt once someone began speaking.”
She waved at the young woman beside her who sat in the chair, moving her weight from left to right and back again. Her black hair hung across her pale cheeks in greasy strands. Anxiety and doubt were much in evidence, especially in the way she had chewed most of her fingernails down to a bright pink nail bed.
Claire placed her hand onto Laura’s shoulder. “Sweetheart, last week you told us you blame the doctors for losing one of your twins during birth. What are you feeling now?”
“Nothing,” she said, quick and to the point. “I feel nothing.”
“I see.” Claire nodded and looked into the chair circle with a raised brow, making us all bow our heads like a flock of foolish sheep.
We all waited for a while until Laura continued. “I just don’t think she died.”
“Oh love,” Claire said, her voice soft and soothing. “It seems you are struggling with a setback. But it’s okay to go back to denial for a while.”
Laura jumped up from her chair, which tipped back and hit the charcoal carpet underneath us with a muffled tock. “No, no, it’s not that. It’s not denial.” She paced the little space she had within the circle, her steps bouncing from one pair of toes to another. “What if she isn’t dead? They refused to show me her body when they took her out after the c-section. When I asked to see her later in the recovery room, they said they had already disposed of her. What if… what if she is not…”
Her words turned to incoherent mumbles, and she shook her head while swinging her torso back and forth. The man beside her picked up her chair.
Claire was quick to place both hands onto Laura’s shoulders, leading her back to sit. “I understand this stage must feel terrifying to you, Laura, but you have reached the next stage of grief. Everyone, please repeat the stages for Laura.”
We all hummed the mantra in chorus. “Denial. Anger. Escape. Grief. Acceptance.”
“Again.”
“Denial. Anger. Escape. Grief. Acceptance,” I chanted along.
“Thank you, everyone.” Claire pulled a few reusable tissues out of a box from underneath her chair and handed them to Laura. “What-if’s are healthy, and they will bring you relief from your pain, albeit temporary my love. Take this time to contemplate over the what-if’s, but remember that each one of those questions is nothing but a cornerstone to acceptance.”
Laura let her shoulders slump, her body continuing the disturbing back and forth, which made the backrest of her chair creak. The pain in her eyes stabbed my heart, reminding me of my own what-if’s.
What if Rowan refused to take Rose in?
What if I would never see her again?
The surrounding room began to spin, turning my thoughts dizzy and my stomach foul. I fucked up big time, letting down the only two things I cared about in my life.
“Before we wrap this group session up and walk over to the coffee and pastries, I want you to welcome Ruth.” Claire pointed at the young woman also across from me, her blonde hair in a tight updo, legs crossed underneath her chair. “It’s her first time here today, and she has recently experienced a different kind of loss she needs our help with.”
“Hi Ruth,” we all chanted, and some added a quick wave of their hand to it.
She gave us a polite smile, dwindling into her chair at the same time. With her arms resting in a knot on her lap, she continuously scratched one of her nails across her elbow pit.
Her eyes darted across the room, though they always came back to me at some point or another. “Hi,” she said, any hint of loss or struggle absent from her tone.
“Ruth, before we fill the others in on your story,” Claire said, “I want you to know how deeply connected you are to Isabelle here.”
I sat up straight. “We are?”
“Uh-huh.” She folded her hands in prayer-position, looking more shrink than ever. “See, Ruth here lost her coworker, Max, during the exact same event when you lost your daughter. Not only is that horrible clanswoman responsible for the death of Rose but also the kidnapping of one of our scientists.”
Ph… kidnapped. Considering how that musty basement smelled like sex the night Ayanna and I arrived, the word kidnapping only made sense in a kinky roleplaying-sense to me.
“I see,” I said, digging my eyes into Ruth.
She didn’t shrink back.
“Ruth,” Claire continued, “would you like to share how you feel after this unexpected loss of your good friend and coworker Max?”
“How I feel?” she asked.
“Yes.” Claire paused for a moment and cocked her head. “For example… you could feel devastated or angry about what happened. They told me Max was a real people-person, surely losing him must make you feel something or otherwise you wouldn’t have reached out.”
Ruth’s eyebrows bunched up against the bridge of her nose. “Max? A people-person?”
She shoved in her chair some more, the scratching along her elbow pit turning audible. At least to me. I watched her every move. Listened to her every breath.
Something’s not right about her.
“Does it make you feeeeeel…” Claire stretched the word into a window for Ruth to answer. When no answer came, our therapist added, “sad?”
“Oh… sad..” Ruth stammered. “Yeah, um, yeah, absolutely. I am super sad that they took Max. Sooo sad.”
“Aww.” Claire cupped her own face with the tips of her fingers. “You guys, please give Ruth some applause for acknowledging her feelings and getting out of her denial.”
Excited claps echoed through the room. Except for mine — which came slow, lazy, and with a beat that drummed bullshit.
“Ruth, honey, since this was your first time today I would like to leave it at this. You came out of your denial over what happened to you, and that is the first step toward acceptance.”
“Um, yeah,” Ruth said. “Fine with me.”
“Great.” Claire got up from her chair and pointed at the table in front of the large window, stocked with almost-cold coffee and gross egg-free pastries. I had to know because the council ordered me to attend group therapy every fucking day of the week ever since I got out of my white nightmare.
“Isabelle.”
I swung around and found Claire standing beside me, her hands reaching out for mine.
“I would like it very much if you reached out to Ruth,” she said. “Overcoming grief is difficult work. Sharing it with others will take some of the burden from you. And her.”
Fuck you. “Uh-huh. Sure.”
The last things I needed were more twisted stories and lies about this so-called event, which the council was quick to declare the greatest attack of the Clan on the Districts.
“Thank you, dear. And please load up on the coffee so you can make it to the fireworks tonight. The entire sky will light up in bursts of orange and blue, celebrating a new year with new opportunities. And trust me when I say, there will be opportunities for you as well, even if it doesn’t look like it right now.”
She gave my hands a squeeze and left the room, leaving most of us behind to chat about our feelings and the five stages of grief. I left the room and walked along the bright corridor, knowing full well I would spend New Year’s Eve with my over-observing new roommate they had assigned to me, AKA the snitch.
Over a year ago, I had a Clan, friends, a family, and a husband who loved me. I poured it all down the drain. Thinking it wasn’t enough. Thinking it wouldn’t last. Thinking Rose could fill the large gap.
Now all I had was that gap.
Without Rose.
“Pst,” it came from behind me. “Darya.”
Surreal and with something alarming to it, the sound of my real name made me freeze mid-movement. Nobody spoke my real name here.
&n
bsp; I ignored it.
My ears played a trick on me.
Or maybe the deprivation room drove me insane, and I just didn’t notice yet.
I commanded my legs to set back into motion, but they stuck to the ground like pillars of concrete.
“Darya,” it came again.
The whisper had grown louder. Closer.
I slowly turned around, saying, “You’re confusing me with someone. My name is…” What the…
Ruth stood in front of me, her eyes darting nervously along the hallway behind me. Every couple of seconds, she glanced over her shoulders.
“I need you to come with me now,” she said. “They will explain everything later.”
She reached for my hand, but I pulled away. “Who sent you? The council? Do you think I will fall for one of their tricks so they can send me back? Fuck off.”
I marched off and followed the long corridor, my knees threatening to buckle underneath me at any moment.
I’m not going back in there.
I’m not.
I can’t.
“Wait,” she whispered, her soft steps turning heavier. Faster. She followed close behind me. Around the corner. Along the light blue hallway. Through the mosaic arch. Go. Go. Go.
I stumbled through the building and turned one more corner, joining a group of people who entered one of the elevators. I squeezed myself in. So did she.
The elevator set into motion, driving a wave of bile up my throat. I’d rather kill myself than go back into that room.
Each floor triggered the sound of a ding. Each ding broke the complete silence in the cabin and, one after another, the cabin emptied until it was just the two of us.
On our way to the lowest level, she spoke. “Did you know there is a rose that thrives up north?”
“I know nothing about the north.”
She continued, her voice shaky. “Um, someone told me the petals are brown at first but become greener by the day.”
My heart throbbed in my chest, and my vision turned into a wet blur. Rose. She talked about my daughter. I wanted to turn around and ask her. Is she okay? Is she with my Clan? But what if all this was nothing but a mean trick? Another sort of mindfuckery, driving me to the edge of hysteria?
She stepped up and hooked her arm into mine, making me want to pull away. But I couldn’t. Even if all she had were lies about my daughter, they would still sound sweeter than silence.
“Remember what the therapist told you about opportunities?” she asked. “Come with me to see the fireworks tonight. I know of a great spot close by the faunatorium where I am supposed to meet friends in a little over an hour.”
Shivers stiffened my limbs.
If I had this wrong, then I was stepping right into their trap and would catapult myself back into the white room. But what if I had it right?
“I think my friends would love it if I brought you,” Ruth added, her hand intertwining with mine and giving it a gentle squeeze.
Ding. The door opened in front of me, and I stared into the already empty parking garage.
Anxiety tugged my guts.
Rowan would never come back for me after what I did to him.
No.
Go home and spend the rest of your life in agony.
That’s what you deserve, anyway.
But what if he did?
“How can I trust you?” I asked, my words little more than the breath of a whisper.
“The rose I mentioned,” she said. “They say this particular rose can be found growing underneath a mountain ash. It’s a tree that also goes by the name —”
I squeezed her hand. “Rowan.”
Chapter 7
Rowan
I stared over the sparkling gray field and along the horizon where it met a line of lonesome junipers. Nothing.
“Where the fuck are they?” I asked, gazing at my holo-band. “You’re not gonna make it like that. Fucking shit. I knew I should have been the one planning this.”
Max pointed at a belt strap which had secured Brandy to the trailer, and gave Adair a nod. “You should roll that one up too. Just in case.”
“Why don’t you go do it yourself…” Adair pushed out his chest and raised his chin. “I’m not taking fucking orders from you.”
My brother-in-law shook his head and kicked the belt underneath the trailer with his boots. “You made us leave an hour early, Rowan. I think we’ll be fine. River and Uncle Peter will be here any minute.”
I took a sharp inhale. “You’re not gonna make it.”
Oriel sat atop Brandy. His tool clinked and clanked against one of the rotor masts, his teeth chattering along with it. The temperatures had dropped into the negatives overnight, turning the hairs inside my nostrils stiff with each breath I took.
I walked over to Adair who sat on the trailer, rubbing his Thermo-gloved hands against each other. “Remember to make sure she’s got her feet firmly on the ladder and hold on to her. She will be cold and might not have the strength to hold on too long.”
“I told you I got it.” He pulled his beanie further down into his face, pushing his ears underneath the warm fleece. “Seriously. Don’t worry about it. I jump down and wait until the helicopter circled one time to distract everyone. Once back, I’ll make sure she makes it to the ladder with me.”
“Don’t let her climb up until we’re at least two miles out from the wall and Oriel can fly her straight without sudden movements.”
He gave me a quick nod. “I told you don’t worry about it. We practiced, remember? Besides. River and uncle Peter are gonna be there as well. They can help her into the copter if need be.”
“They’re here,” Oriel shouted.
Their white truck was barely visible on this thick snow cover with their headlights off. But the way their engine struggled left no doubt behind my life was about to change once more.
This is all a big mistake.
Snow-caked tires came to a stop, the surrounding chains the only thing that made all this happen.
I opened the driver’s door. “Leave the engine running, or it might not start back up with these temperatures.”
“We got a problem.” Uncle Peter jerked his fingers back from the keys inside the ignition and pointed his thumb at River, his nephew. “Most likely broke his wrist when he tried to jack up the car and replace a broken snow-chain. The jack slipped out, and everything came crashing down on his hand.”
“Max!” I shouted.
River got out of the truck and walked over to me, supporting his bad wrist with his other hand and holding it close to his body. He gave me an apologetic head-shake and shrugged his shoulders at the same time.
Max jogged over to us. “What is it?”
“They think River broke his wrist and I need you to check on it,” I said. “We needed him to stabilize the ladder and help pull them up, so please tell me he can still do it.”
Max exchanged a quick look with River, then stared at me from raised brows. “Rowan. I’m a fertility doctor. Unless he’s got testicles as a joint, there’s not much I can do.”
“Fucking shit.” I grabbed River’s hand and wiggled his wrist.
“Argh…” he shouted and pulled away from me. “Why did you do that?
“It’s broken, alright.” I turned on my heels and took a few steps back. My nerves shook, and so did my knees. Without River, this rescue squad would most definitely fail before it even started.
“You need to replace him, Rowan,” someone said, my mind too freaked out to notice whose voice it was. The goat loin I had for dinner slowly made its way back up, making my chest tighten as if a giant squeezed me in his fist. A giant pile of shit.
“Maybe Oriel can help,” I said.
Adair stepped up beside me and flung his hands up. “He’s flying the damn thing.”
“Right. Right.”
Max showed up in front of me and placed a palm on my arms, giving me a bit of a shake. “You know what I realized the moment Hazel told us Autumn was p
regnant? It’s not about us anymore. It’s not about me, and it’s not about your sister. From now on, it’s about our two unborn children. You’re not doing this for Darya.”
He sounded like a god damn psychiatrist, and I wanted to punch him in the face for it. Fuck no, I didn’t wanna do shit for Darya. Except, perhaps, get her into the helicopter, so I could push her out from eighty feet high.
“I need to do it for Rose,” I said, half statement half question, the words scratching my throat as if I swallowed a handful of nails.
“Exactly,” Max said.
He nodded and looked around him, making all the others nod in agreement and mumble uh-huh’s into the cold night. Adair, however, rolled his eyes instead and walked off to Brandy.
River glanced over his holo-band. “Guess I’ll top up the gas on the trucks and stay behind until you made it back out. Just in case something goes wrong.”
“Nothing will go wrong,” Max said. “The last instruction was to pick them up by the big wind turbine. Now, that was before we decided to use Brandy, and she can’t go that close to it. Instead, Oriel will drop you all off at the faunatorium, and you make your way to the turbine. Adair has my old watch, which can track down Ruth’s GPS location.”
“If she still has that thing,” Adair shouted.
“Yeah,” Uncle Peter added, “and if nobody infiltrated this entire mess. I gotta say, the fact that we haven’t heard back from Max’s dad concerns me. There are a lot of if’s in this plan.”
Without looking up, I sensed their eyes on me. Something squeezed me a bit harder, turning a simple breath into a struggle. They waited for me to call the shot. A shot with a bullet that might go straight through my heart, making me bleed to death all over again.
I checked my holo-band once more.
Now or never.
“Alright, let’s do it.”
Everyone set into gear and went about whichever task I had assigned them to. Uncle Peter and Max unhitched the trailer and got the trucks away from Brandy. Adair climbed inside the helicopter and prepared the ladders and additional ropes. River mostly tended to his wrist and kicked back in one of the trucks, feet crossed on top of the dashboard.