The Blood Pawn

by Nicole Tillman

  I want him. No, no. I need him.

  A guard ducks down next to March and I can't see him.

  “Get out of the way!” I snarl. Blood and tissue fly from my mouth, and I try to reach out for the succulent pieces with stiff hands, but they're too small.

  No...

  No!

  More guards surround March.

  They're moving him!

  Taking him away!

  They can't!

  He's MINE!

  “Bring him back!” I howl. “Bring him back right now!”

  Cain turns me around in his arms. He releases me, only to slam his hands against my face so hard I know I can't move. He looks me straight in the eyes.

  “Stop, Maya! Think! Fight it!”

  “I don't want to fight it!” My body shakes with anger. He doesn't understand!

  “You have to, sweetheart. Okay. You have to.”

  No. I don't have to do anything.

  I don't have to listen. Not to him. Not to anyone.

  “Maya!”

  He shakes my head, hard enough I feel my jaw pop.

  “Look at me. Look at my eyes and just focus, okay?”

  His eyes. His blue, blue eyes.

  They stare at me. They're scared.

  Tears gather at the corners, but he'll never let them fall. Cain is strong. Strong man. Strong eyes.

  But it's not his eyes that I want.

  My gaze travels lower until I spot the vein pulsing at the side of his neck. The one that throbs when he's angry or scared or irritated. It's blue beneath his skin, blue like his eyes, and I watch it thrum in sync with his heart.

  The heart beating inside his chest.

  The muscle within, framed beautifully by white ribs.

  Sweet ribs.

  Blood flows over my tongue instead of saliva.

  He's beautiful.

  Delicious.

  Has to be.

  So much of him.

  So much.

  I bare my teeth.

  “Maya...”

  My mouth opens. Fingers claw at his chest. Eyes hone in on the exposed flesh above his shirt. He starts to fight me, but he won't win this one. He won't.

  This is mine.

  Mine.

  I push up on my toes, ready to sink my teeth into his neck.

  Mine.

  His hands leave, and I smile. He understands. He gets it. He knows he's mine.

  Cold metal hits me in the forehead, right between my eyes, and I stop.

  I stop, because there's a gun obstructing my vision. The only thing I can see, the only thing I can focus on, is Cain's finger curling around the trigger.

  “Maya,” he pleads. “Stop.”

  Stop.

  The word echoes through my skull, repeating over and over again even though his lips are no longer moving.

  Stop.

  I look up at the barrel and remember.

  My muscles fall slack... I remember.

  I've done this dance before.

  I've been at the other end of the barrel, cocking the hammer, looking at someone I love, pleading for them to stop.

  Just... stop.

  That guilt bubbles up inside of me, hot and thick and consuming. I've carried it with me forever, and even now, it's still there. It's right inside the lining of my stagnant heart. It pushes me. It weakens me. It defines me.

  What did I do?

  I don't want that guilt for anyone.

  Not anyone.

  Especially not Cain.

  Cain...

  I blink once. Twice. Three times.

  His eyes come into focus and I gasp, realizing what I was about to do.

  What I wanted to do.

  “Oh, God.”

  I wanted his destruction, his demise, his death, all at my hands. I wanted him to belong to me in a carnal, disgusting, dangerous way.

  I, Maya Winters, wanted to rip his throat out with my teeth and lap up his blood with my tongue.

  A single slimy tear trails down my cheek – just one – and I fall to the ground at his feet.

  I cling to Cain's shirt as he carries me back to base. Voices speak softly all around me, but I can't distinguish one from the other. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters. Let them think what they want. They're probably right. If they're looking at me like I'm the beast they should fear, then they're right. All of them.

  I've never known how deeply and profoundly a person can hate themselves. Not until right now. Now, I know. Sinking to the bottom of the barrel, past all the sludge and debris, I know.

  I'm a monster.

  They were right to be distrustful, to fear me, to keep their distance.

  I'm not safe.

  Inside the base, I hear Decker whisper to Cain as he lays a hand on my shoulder.

  “Take her to the dormitory, please. I'll be there once I get March squared away.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I curl away from his touch. There's no reason to comfort me; I don't deserve it. Just like I don't deserve the mercy I know he's bound to give.

  I deserve nothing.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see a sign and straighten my legs, throwing Cain off-balance.

  “Wait– what are you doing?”

  He sets me down, because he has no choice, and I push out of his arms. My legs quiver but do their job holding me up. When I wipe away tears, I see Cain staring at the door.

  He knows what I want. He's a smart guy, that one.

  “Maya, no.”

  I nod. There's nothing to say.

  “Don't go in there.”

  I have to. Can't he see that?

  The door isn't locked, so I push it open. I try not to stare down at my blood-covered hands, but it's hard. An urge to lick them clean swarms me, but I ignore it.

  Cain's not far behind me, but he doesn't grab for me when I walk into the small unit, the one that's been my home before, and I'm grateful. The door closes, and we both jolt when the lock slams home.

  Heavy with shame, I fall to my knees.

  “Maya.”

  Cain's muffled whisper barely makes it through as I stare out at his face. His handsome face, with his pain-filled eyes and rugged scar. He's painted with multiple people's blood, but he doesn't care. His hand presses against the glass and I want to cry when he looks down at my curled fists.

  I do it. I have to.

  My hand touches the cool, translucent surface, meeting up with his, but only for a second. I can't take anything longer than that. I'm too close to him. Too close.

  The concrete pad is more than I deserve, but I pull myself up into its waiting embrace. It smells earthy and damp, just as I remember. My muscles shift and tense inside me as I curl into myself.

  When my eyes close, I pray they never open again.

  I'm where I belong.

  I'm what I never wanted to be.

  I'm the beast I fear the most.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I didn't plan this.

  None of it.

  The universe is laughing at me right now. I know it is.

  I was just a girl. A girl who wanted to date, hang out with friends, and grow up to be a doctor, just like her daddy. There wasn't anything inside of me hinting at the violence I was capable of. Yet, here I am.

  The things that once mattered to me suddenly don't anymore, because they're not mine. They belong to Maya Winters. Sweet, optimistic Maya.

  The Blood Pawn needs nothing, wants nothing, deserves nothing. And in turn, she doesn't owe the world a thing, either.

  I didn't want to be ripped from the world I knew. But I was.

  I didn't want to become a monster. But I am.

  I didn't want to find solace and peace in the arms of a man destined to be a soldier. But I did.

  All those things – consequences of someone else's actions.

  Still, something eats at me, telling me I had a fraction of the power. But did I really?

  When found in hopeless circumstances, can people really know h
ow their lives would be different based on their actions? Does it boil down to one instant? One decision?

  Could I have possibly prevented this lonesome outcome?

  Maybe.

  Maybe not.

  I couldn't stop Jared from being infected. I couldn't not pull the trigger. That would have ended my story far sooner, with an equally grim fate.

  I couldn't say no to the Vice-President when he arrived to recruit me. They were going to take me whether I wanted to go or not.

  I couldn't stop Secretary March from sending us off to be ambushed.

  I couldn't stop Sully from bleeding out.

  And, apparently, I couldn't stop the virus from doing what it was intended to do: Strip me of my identity.

  If none of those things are results from decisions I've made, then why the remorse? Why the guilt? There's nothing I can do now, nor has there ever been.

  The happenings of the world are more complex than I could ever imagine, and I'm stuck here in the center of it all, just–

  Just...

  A Pawn.

  Just a pawn who doesn't know the rules of this game. There's no one here to tell me when to move or how many spaces, because that's not my decision to make. It's up to them; the ones with the power.

  The players.

  My only job as a pawn was to make a sacrifice for the greater good. Well, I've made my sacrifice. I lost the only thing I had left in this world.

  Myself.

  Maya Winters died in a hospital bed.

  No one came to kiss her goodbye. No one wished her well in the afterlife. My parents don't know she's dead. My friends back home think she's out on the front lines being a hero. They don't know her heart stopped beating.

  Maya's gone, and I'm alone.

  “Are you done?”

  The voice is familiar, and it pulls me from my silent brooding. I look up through stringy hair and blood-crusted eyes to find President Decker standing outside my door. His hands rest just inside his pockets, his suit is still somehow wrinkle-free, and his smile is filled with just a dash of pity. But it's a dash too much.

  “Done doing what, sir?” My voice scratches and wheezes its way out of me.

  “Sulking.”

  Ha! He makes it sound like I'm wallowing over a curfew.

  “No, sir. I'm not.”

  He shakes his head. “You don't have to be in there, Winters. You can come out.”

  Has Decker always been so blind? So reckless? So incredibly infuriating?

  “No, I can't.”

  His sigh fogs the glass in front of his face. “And why not?”

  He wants me to explain it to him?

  Fine. I will.

  “When we started training, I promised myself that I'd do everything in my power to protect you and everyone I was serving with. This–” I twirl my finger in their air, showcasing the glass walls encasing me, “–is me keeping that promise.”

  He doesn't blink, doesn't move a muscle. I recognize that look. It's one my father used often.

  “You're not like them,” he says. “You're present, you're level headed. You're in mourning, for Christ's sake. That right there tells me you're not a threat.”

  I shoot to my feet, so livid my chest aches with angry heat.

  “I attacked a man!” I scream, pounding a fist against the wall. “I drew blood! I-I ripped his throat out with my teeth.”

  Screams turn into sobs as it all comes rushing back to me in stark, blinding clarity.

  The taste, the smell, the feel.

  The aftermath.

  The descent.

  The grief...

  “And then you put yourself in a cage so you couldn't hurt anyone else! Winters, if you were really like them, you'd be doing whatever you could to get back out here. To get another taste. You are not a monster, Maya!”

  I cringe at the sound of my name. It's too personal, too humane.

  “I can't tell you the number of times I've wished physical harm on another human being, how many times I've wished someone dead. I've reached points before where I didn't care whose blood I had on my hands.” His confession does nothing to appease me. “But wishing for something and doing it are two completely different things.”

  I've heard enough.

  I wave him away.

  That's right. Me – Miss Nobody – waves the most powerful man in the country away, because I can't stand to look at him anymore.

  “Maya, do you want to know what separates the average man from a killer?”

  He pauses, and I grace him with a quick look, letting him know I'm paying attention.

  “A good heart, respect for life, and restraint. Three things you have in abundance.”

  I can't listen anymore. My 'good heart' won't let me. So I crawl back onto my concrete death bed and hide my face.

  I don't care what he says, I'm not coming out.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  I open my eyes, wondering who could possibly be summoning me now.

  When I peek out from where I have my face hidden, a friendly face greets me.

  “How's my favorite member of the living dead?”

  She's joking, I know she is, but I can't do this. Not now.

  “Did I kill him?”

  The question sneaks out, unbidden, and catches Martina off guard. The smile falls from her face as she drops her head.

  I already know the answer, but I need to hear it. I want confirmation.

  “Yes.”

  A black tear streaks down my cheek, staining my skin.

  “Hey.”

  When I look up, Martina has her forehead pressed against the glass, looking in.

  “No tears over him.”

  I scoff. That's the least I can give him now, after what I did.

  “Listen here, Winters. He made his fiery bed, now he gets to lie in it.”

  “How can you say that?” I whisper. “I murdered the man.”

  She tilts her head from side to side, considering. “I don't think I'd call it that.”

  “How is taking a life not murder? What would you prefer I call it?”

  She crosses her arms. I hate that she feels the need to go on the defensive, but she's being ridiculous. There's no gray area with this issue. Only black and white.

  “Divine Justice.” Both of her hands rest against the glass, and I think it's her version of gripping jail cell bars. “You did all of us a favor.”

  “Oh yeah?” I snap. “Then why do I feel like the fires of Hell are licking at my feet?”

  “Because you're a good person.” She smiles, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. “And when good people do bad things, they think they deserve to be punished.”

  “I do. I deserve to be punished.”

  “No, Maya, you don't,” she rushes to say. “You did what needed to be done and people were saved. End of story. That's it. You martyring yourself proves nothing. So come outside, join the land of the living, and let's get on with what we came here to do.”

  I curl back in on myself and hug my knees to my chest.

  “I think I'll stay right here.”

  The next time someone comes to visit, it's Cain. My first instinct is to tell him to get away from me, that I'll only bring heartache and pain, but I ignore that feeling entirely and swing my legs off the bed.

  “Hey there, Winters.”

  “Hey there, Holebrook,” I throw back, my voice almost as deep as his. “What are you doing here?”

  He shrugs in that handsome way of his.

  “Just wanted to make sure you were squared away. Do you need anything?.”

  “Nope.” I run a hand over my hair. It's greasy and matted. “Plus, I'm not sure I'm allowed to have anything.”

  His gaze narrows. “You can have whatever you want. You put yourself in here, remember?”

  I cross my arms and rock back on my heels. Why is everyone trying to drag me out when others tried so hard to keep me in here?

  “Can you blame me?”

  Cain clears his thro
at. “No, Maya, I can't. And you can't blame yourself either.”

  “Yes, I can.”

  “For what?” he snaps. “For defending yourself? For ending a man who was out to watch the world burn? For saving the president's life? Maya, MARCH attacked YOU!”

  “I killed him, Cain!” My ears start to ring, and I don't know if it's because of the volume of my voice or the guilt swimming through my soul. “I killed him, and it wasn't a conscious decision. Don't you understand that?”

  Silence descends around the both of us like a thick, suffocating blanket. Seconds tick by as we stare blankly into each other's eyes. There's no heat there. No compassion. Just desperation.

  “What about me?”

  I sigh heavily. I'm too tired for this.

  “What about you?”

  “You made a decision. About me. You stopped yourself.”

  My head falls back and I turn to leave him there at the wall, but a hand slams against the glass, startling me.

  “You stopped!” he yells. The hard lines of his face tense in anger.

  Anger at me? At my situation? At himself? Who knows...

  “It doesn't matter.”

  “Yes, it does! You think you're a monster, but you're not! Maybe you got carried away, but what happened to March needed to happen, okay? If it wasn't you, it would have been someone else. Decker would have disposed of him if you hadn't.”

  “Yeah, but in the right way. A humane way.”

  Both hands slap against the glass this time.

  “Stop it! Stop with this 'poor, pitiful me, I'm a monster now' thing you've got going on. It's bullshit, Winters! You are the only one who thinks you deserve to be in there.” He points to the door. “Everyone else out there? They think you're a hero. Our team, the guards, the nurses, even Decker. They are ALL proud of you for what you did.”

  My bottom lip trembles and I'm dangerously close to crying. That's not a thing he needs to see. Not again.

  “I'm proud of you,” he whispers.

  I sniff to hold back the tears. “Yeah, well, you shouldn't be.”

  “That's where you're wrong.”

  He's had enough. I know that because he moves to the panel next to my door, enters the code, and steps inside with me.

  “You're done punishing yourself,” he states, coming to stand with me.

  Um. No, actually, I'm not.

  “And I'm going to show you why.”

  Cain grabs hold of my arms. I don't have the energy to fight, so I don't. His warm hands wrap around me and I'm pulled against a hard torso. My limbs freeze as I sense the heat wafting off him, and I wait for the hunger to set in. I wait for his heartbeat to register and my teeth to grind together. I wait for my control to slip.