The air sucked from the room, gravity inverted, and I thought I might explode with anger.
Grant, I hate you. My hate is a searing sun. It’s going to swallow you and turn you to ashes.
I knew it. But once she said it, the last pieces slotted together. Any doubt I had was swept away. Grant was using my friend as the test subject. He broke her back and then he showed her to me like some sort of twisted trophy. He was evil.
Grant had to die.
“I’m so sorry,” I wept.
“It’s not your fault.”
“It is.” I put my hands to my head and rocked. My head was being crushed in a vice of guilt.
Gwen grabbed my hands and jerked them down, locking eyes with me. “Listen to me, Rosa, and stop crying. Evil is never your fault.”
Okay. Okay. Just stop. Gather up the frayed, pilled edges of your sanity and pull it together. She needs you.
I drew in a large breath from this airless room and wiped my tears with the back of my hand.
“What do you know?” I asked, leaning in.
“That’s better.” She smiled with effort. “I know I’m Grant’s guinea pig for the healer,” she said, gripping the edges of her blanket. “I know he’s a selfish prick!” she screamed towards the door. “I know neither of us will survive the process, but he won’t listen to me.”
She gasped from the screaming, her starved eyes wide, her lips dry and cracked. A glass of water was placed on a table just out of her reach. I retrieved it for her, and she grabbed it greedily.
“Oh, it’ll work, Gwen. It worked on me,” I said loudly, not trusting that they weren’t listening to me.
Her eyes peeled back further, her sharp cheekbones pressing out of her skin like tent poles. I couldn’t say anything else. I just looked at her, trying to convey with my eyes that somehow I would get her those pills.
She raised her eyebrows and opened her mouth.
“You may push us down
In the very dirt
That grows your fruitful lies
But you should fear us
When you hear us
When you hear our cries,
We’ll rise, rise, rise.”
Her hand was a fist, pumping with each ‘rise’.
I rose from her bedside.
The door opened and Denis hovered in the doorway, his face a mixture of worry and something else I couldn’t quite discern. “Something’s happened,” he said. “I have to take you back.”
“I thought I had an hour?” Panic drove through me like a rusty spike, plunging deep into my ribs. I couldn’t leave her. She was injured, alone, and she was my only anchor to my old life. The life I wanted back.
I shook my head and returned to her side. “No. Let me stay here. I’m a prisoner anyway, shouldn’t I be in prison?” I pleaded, my fingers digging into Gwen’s mattress. She stared at me with carved-out eyes, her frame wavering like vapor. She needed food.
“Rosa, please.” Denis sighed in exasperation. “We don’t have time for this.”
I didn’t turn around and just waved one hand behind me. “Then leave me.”
Please don’t take me away from my last beacon of sanity.
Gwen wrapped her hand around mine and gripped it. “Don’t go, not yet,” she whispered. She blinked, but there were no tears. She was too dehydrated. Then she lifted her chin defiantly and snapped, “Who’s this clown?”
“I’m Master Grant,” he said authoritatively, and then he glanced down at me. “Rosa, we have to leave now!” He was moving from leg to leg like he needed to pee.
“Why?” I snapped, so sick of being dragged from place to place, being a pawn in their sick games. This was my friend lying here, broken. I choked on all the tears I couldn’t cry as Denis’ shadow encroached on me.
“We’ve lost Palma,” he stated. “We have to go home. Now!”
“Home?” I laughed. I had no home. And Palma. Lost. We. We, like I was part of his people. No, we had gained Palma. They had lost Palma.
Gwen grinned. Her skin was paler than clean sheets. She was suffering, but God, she was so strong. Much stronger than I was.
“I’m not leaving yet.” I filled her glass again and handed it her. I searched the room, my breaths getting shorter and more hysterical. “Why doesn’t she have any food?” I yelled, my voice uneven, shrill as a drill bouncing against metal.
Denis strode towards me and yanked me up by my collar, the silk fabric tearing at my neck. “Get up!” he growled.
Gwen’s grip was tight, but she was too weak to hold me against Denis’ pull. I scratched and hit but he held me out from his body as if I were a rat hanging from its tail.
“I’ll see you again,” I screamed as he dragged me from the room.
She shook her head. “You won’t see me until Test day.”
My eyes widened. She would die if we didn’t get those pills. “You know I’ll do what I can to help you?” I shouted as I held onto the doorframe. Denis pulled on my arms.
She sung loudly, bopping her head along with the tune. And if you didn’t understand what it was about, I guess you would think she was crazy.
“Your love is a pill,
It’s bitter and still.
I’ll take it,
I’ll swallow it.
I’m addicted to you,
Addicted to you.”
She understood. She knew.
Her grin stretched to my face as the door closed, and Denis dragged me down the hall.
I would save her. If I could do nothing else, I had to find the rest of those pills.
“Let me go!” I snapped.
Denis still had a hold of my collar, my dress now barely covering my upper body. He suddenly dropped me, and I fell into the wall. He reached out to grab me, but I slapped his hand away.
“Don’t touch me,” I said, backing away from him and rubbing my sore, scratched neck.
His eyes were severe, dipped in rage. He stepped towards me quickly and slapped my face hard. The breath was knocked from my mouth. The sting instantly radiated over my whole head.
“Don’t ever speak to me like that. And when I say it’s time to leave, you do as you’re told.”
My chin fell in understanding. Do as you’re told. I forgot who he was. He was Superior Grant’s son. While I had to work with him and even though he’d told me his secret, he had been raised by a cruel man. And now I knew the cruelty lived inside him also.
I pulled myself up from the floor and crept past him to the glass door. It glided open to Solomon standing there, his expression indifferent to the violence just as I would have expected.
I shuffled towards the elevator door, my hands stubbornly at my sides, even though I wanted to cradle my pulsing face, and waited. I felt beaten in every way.
Denis spoke to Solomon in a detached tone. “My father expects a healthy, well-fed test subject. Your care for the prisoner is unacceptable. Rectify the situation or I’ll report you.”
We didn’t speak on the ride home.
I ignored any attempts he made to help me, maneuver me, or touch me when we arrived back at Grant’s compound. My trust in him was dented, and I hated that I needed him.
We made it to Judith’s bedroom door, and I turned to look at him. He winced at the sight of what he had done. My face felt swollen, my lip bulging.
I spoke from one side of my mouth. “Find those pills,” I whispered. I thought about Deshi. Where he would have hidden them? It was so hard to picture without being in his office.
“You’ll have to help me,” Denis said quietly.
I nodded. “Don’t worry,” I hissed. “I’ll do as I’m told.”
He looked at the floor. “Rosa, I’m sorry,” he barely mumbled. I open the door, stepped backwards, and slammed it in his face.
Leaning against the buttery timber, I breathed in and out violence. I was starting to wonder whether it was something about me that made men want to hurt me. Some men, anyway. But I quashed the thought as quickly as it
had appeared. It was not me… it was them. They were ‘less than’ and violence was their only power.
Wanting comfort, I reached out for Joseph’s arms to crawl into. I strained to hear his warm, rumbling voice telling me it was all going to be ok. Please let it be ok. I banged my head gently against the door as I slid down to the carpet. I wanted to dig through to the ground. I wanted to feel the damp dirt between my fingers.
This was not where I belonged.
Judith sat up in her bed, rubbing her eyes groggily.
I let one tear slip before I padded my soul with steel bars and strengthened myself. Palma was free. Free. It was working. I smiled and my face hurt.
As Judith peered at me through the glow of her hideous fairy nightlight, I thought about my father. I wondered where he was when Palma was freed. I imagined him celebrating, marveling at the power of the people. But I also knew he would look to his side and want me there. I pictured his wiry arm over my shoulder.
I’m sorry, Dad.
JOSEPH
This was definitely the way to forget, but it came with a price.
My head lolled to the side and I startled awake, my eyes resistant to opening, my mouth dry and desperate for water. I licked my lips and unfolded my arms, stretching them behind my back. Dried blood crackled on my shirt. I needed to change.
The room was spinning and I blinked several times, trying to sharpen my dulled senses. Some people were still awake, hovering over the kitchen bench and whispering, but the house was almost empty. Most people probably returned to their homes once the celebrations had died down. I did a quick head count and noted that everyone was here, sleeping on the floor or crookedly in chairs. Elise’s blonde head stuck out from under a blanket on the worn, yellow sofa.
I got up and wobbled over to the kitchen to get water, tripping over Desh’s sleeping body. A murmur in the corner caught my eye. Olga sat with her back against the wall. She looked anxious, shaking her head from side to side, her small eyes darting around the room like she was also doing a head count.
“Olga, are you ok?” I whispered hoarsely, clearing my throat of its fuzziness.
She nodded and waved her hand dismissively. “Just tired,” she replied.
That was good enough for my cloudy brain. I stumbled and tripped on the spot where the carpet met the kitchen tiles, water calling to me from the dented sink.
As I lurched over the tap and drank directly from it, Rash’s voice hit my ears like he’d clapped tin lids together over my head.
“Feeling a bit under the weather are we?” he asked triumphantly.
I took a few more sips and raised my head, wiping the water from my mouth. The other men who were whispering wisely moved away from the counter. Rash sat on a stool, his arms clasped neatly in front of him, a big grin on his face, his speech a little slurred.
“What did you do to me?” I asked, my own words sounding garbled.
He raised his eyebrows. “Nothing, you dumbass. You did this to yourself. You’re drunk.”
I leaned my elbows on the counter and dipped my head down between my shoulders. It made me feel worse. The room started bobbing up and down like I was on water. I looked up and caught his amused expression.
“I’m glad my pain gives you comfort,” I groaned.
He clapped his hands together and chuckled when I flinched at the noise. My head was splitting open.
“Oh it does, man, it does.” He opened a can of beer and handed it to me. “Here, drink this; it will make you feel better.” I eyed him suspiciously but took it. I couldn’t feel any worse than I already did.
I took a few swigs and soon, I could feel it doing its job.
“Are you ever going to forgive me?” I asked, watching him pick at his brown hands.
He laughed sourly. “This is not about forgiveness. I’m grieving. I miss her. I need her. You’re just the obvious target for all my misdirected anger.” His head sunk down.
I shook my head from side to side. “You’re… you’re in love with her…” My hand curled into a jealous fist.
Rash’s eyes narrowed. “You know, you really are an idiot. You need to realize you’re not the only one suffering. I love her, yes. I’m not in love with her.” His voice started to rise in volume. “You think…You think…”
I slammed my fist down on the table. “What?” Violence pulsed in my fingertips. I was tired of him blaming me for everything.
“You’re so sorry. So sorry for yourself, you don’t…” he started. It wasn’t even true. I felt the burden of what I’d done to everyone. To him, to Pelo, and everyone who’d lost her. “You’re not the only one who lost her. And just coz I wasn’t sleeping with her, doesn’t mean I didn’t love her just as much as you did!”
That was it. I was so sick of his attitude. His damn, stupid, glaring face. I snatched his clothes with my hands, pulled him across the counter, and close to my face. My heart thumped loudly; my ears pumped a sea of blood.
I stared into his eyes and whispered, “You think this is about sex?” I shook my head, sorry for him. “Screw you, Rash,” I said, throwing him away from me. He fell off his stool and onto the floor.
My hands were still begging to hit him. I paced back and forth, my fists tight against my sides.
Suddenly, Elise was in front of me. She put her hands on my shoulders, and I nearly punched her. She ducked back from my angry expression.
“Come with me,” she said, taking my hand and pulling me away from the kitchen and down the hall of the small cottage.
I let her lead me because if I’d stayed there, I would have stomped on Rash’s face. Rosa wouldn’t want that. I ran my hands through my hair. She wouldn’t want any of this.
Elise pulled me into the bathroom and closed the door. She daintily put down the toilet seat lid and sat on it.
She handed me a balled-up wad of cloth. “Here, I found you a clean shirt.”
I turned away from her and quickly changed, my eyes roaming over the blue glass tiles bordering the shower that were clearly not standard issue.
“Sit down,” she said, pointing to the bathtub with tumbled-down toiletries gathered around the plughole.
I sat down on the edge and sighed, trying to expel some of the violence inside me.
“I just don’t want to feel like this anymore,” I admitted.
She leaned in, her eyes so sad, welcoming and understanding. “Feel like what?”
I shrugged, my shoulders sinking. “So guilty.”
Elise crossed her legs and rested her head in her palm. “Right. I think you should tell me what happened.”
I started from when Orry got sick. She nodded. She asked the occasional question but mostly, she just let me talk. She was being exactly what I needed, a friend, and I was grateful for it.
When I finished, she gazed at me gently. “She sounds amazing, Joe.”
I nodded. “She was. I mean… she is.”
“You’ve been through a lot together, and I understand the bond you must have with her. But let me ask you this—do you really think she would want you to torture yourself like this? You love her, and that’s not going to change, but it doesn’t mean that your life just stands still when she’s not here, does it?”
No. I knew this, but hearing someone else say it, sort of giving me permission to keep living, was good.
“It’s not just about her. I’ve done some terrible things, Elise. To escape, I had to…” My words ran out and dripped to silence.
She pursed her lips, tipping her head to the side. “You can tell me, Joe. No judgment.”
I tried to say it, but it just wouldn’t come out. Confessing to her seemed a step too intimate. “I can’t.”
She tucked a strand of fair hair behind her ear. “You don’t have to. But just listen to me. You have to find a way to move past it. If not for yourself, then do it for your kid. At least try and let go of the things that you can’t control. Hopefully, she’ll come back. You can hope for it, but you can’t count on it. You ha
ve to keep living your life.”
I laughed sadly. If only it were that easy.
“Try,” Elise said more forcefully.
I dipped my head in agreement. “Okay, I’ll try.” I said. Lifting my eyes to meet hers, I whispered, “Thank you for stopping me.”
She stood and patted my head. “Don’t mention it.”
I wondered if I could do it. Move on while still holding hope that I’d see her again. It seemed like a candle burning at both ends. It was going to burn no matter what end I picked up.
I found myself following her out of the bathroom and back into the kitchen. Rash had passed out on the floor where I’d shoved him, his arms wrapped around the stool like it was a woman. She took two metal cups, one pink and one green, from the cupboard and poured us both a drink from her own flask.
I took it. I wanted it. Didn’t want it. Just didn’t want to think about anything anymore.
She clinked her glass with mine, the only other sounds the murmurs of people sleeping satisfied and safe. “To living your life,” she said, and then she sculled the brown liquid in one gulp with a smile.
I couldn’t smile back, but I didn’t feel like I was going to explode anymore, which was a step in some direction. I wasn’t sure there was a right direction. Putting the cup to my lips, I drank.
ROSA
“Rosa, what’s wrong with you? Are you all right?” Judith shook my shoulder as if my body were a door she couldn’t open, her big blue eyes blinking away sleep and crusted mascara grit.
I was somewhere else. In the trees, my feet pressed hard against a branch, the scent of smoke and sweet pine rushing over my face and teasing through strands of my hair. My mind sought escape for one small moment. But the normal sound of her voice shattered my dream.
“Your voice…” I started.
One daisy-shaped pajama button pinched between her fraying fingers. “Dad prefers it.”
I gazed down at my dress, muddy and torn. “I should change,” I said, uncomfortable under her stare and her sudden admission. I didn’t want her to confide in me. I had enough secrets poking holes in my flappy existence without adding hers to my list. It was liable to squeeze something important out.
The Wanted (The Woodlands Series Book 4) Page 18