In A Burning Room

by TS Ward

  There was a voice in my head that I didn’t recognize, but that faint lilt to it sounded so familiar.

  A girl, her hair a wild mane of ruddy orange, her eyes bright green and full of mischief as they watched me with some amount of adoration I knew I didn’t deserve. Clary. Clary Talon, in the bar in Conleth with that man in the corner eyeing her night after night.

  She was like Jack, so much like him, but her laugh thundered and her words were so loud and absolutely certain.

  Let it drown me, I wanted to tell her, let it swallow me whole, let me swallow it.

  Memory was an ocean, not a constellation. An ocean made of saltwater and electricity that kept me afloat and burrowed into the frayed edges of erratically fired neurons and screamed remember me! Remember me, remember that night in Conleth when the soldiers strolled into town and the husband you abandoned walked into a pub where you worked with his sister. Remember the two-year-old boy hiding in the back who ran out and demanded your attention. What did the soldier think, after two years, finding you with a two-year-old boy?

  What did he think when you pretended not to know him?

  Are you guilty? Do you feel it in the pit of your stomach, spreading like poison through your veins? Did you hurt the way he did? Did you cry all night and every night?

  Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.

  He must have thought he looked a little too much like me. He must have thought the freckles scattered across a button nose were a little too much like his. And his smile, the way he smiled.

  He must have thought I was scared and ashamed and I saw it in his eyes how much he ached and I only hoped that he knew I cried as if he had died or left me himself, that he knew the guilt was like rot that ate away at me from the inside.

  Jack stood so close in an alleyway in Conleth, but the distance between us felt like miles. His eyes glistened with tears. Pleaded, just as his hands squeezing mine so tightly begged. “Come home, please, just come home, I—”

  “I can’t,” I choked out. Oh, god, I thought I could do it. “I can’t, Jack. I want to. I really, really want to, you know I do.”

  Saying his name was like swallowing a knife.

  He stepped forward, his hands reached up to cup my face so softly, a small line pinched between his eyebrows. His thumbs ran over my skin, back and forth. His words were cracked and desperate in the same way mine were. “Don’t say that. You can always come home. Come on, Soren. Please.”

  In the doorway behind him I saw Percy, peeking out at us. “I just want to keep him safe.”

  “He’ll be safe! You’ll be safe, I just—I don’t understand. What did I do? Why did you leave?” He leaned against the bricks with me and his hand brushed hair from my face, his skin drawing shivers against mine. He couldn’t keep still. I felt my heart break along with his. “Why?”

  “He was never safe. I was never...” I squeezed my eyes shut against the tears that spilled so freely onto my cheeks, like they had a right to be there, and they did. They did. “I’m sorry, I—I’m so sorry, Jack, I had to go, I—we couldn’t hide him anymore, I—I’m sorry. I—”

  “Sorry! Sorry, Sorry. Hi, Sorry!” Percy’s small fingers curled around mine and when I looked down at him he grinned like a madman, from ear to ear, tiny white teeth shining.

  Jack crouched down, smiling back at the boy. “Hey. Do you like planes, Percy?”

  “Panes?” He asked, letting go of my hand to devote his full attention to the soldier he only just met. It made my heart ache worse.

  “Planes fly all the way up in the sky. Do you want to fly like a plane?” He laughed when Percy nodded vigorously, tiny curls bouncing up and down. “Alright, but you have to stick your arms out like wings and go vrrrrooooom—”

  He did as he was told and Jack immediately scooped him up, spun him around in a circle until he giggled much louder than he should have at that time, with all those soldiers around.

  Jack stopped suddenly, propped Percy up on his hip and moved back to me. He offered him to my reaching arms.

  “Don’t be running off on your own, kiddo,” he told my little bear, much louder than the whispers we spoke in, and a short nod over my shoulder told me why. “Have a good night, miss.”

  Miss. Like he doesn’t know me.

  Sir, like I don’t know him.

  Sir, yes, sir, like a good tin soldier. A small green army man set in line with the rest, all plastic and gun-wielding and programmed for war and violence like the rest. Sir, yes, sir. Sir, yes, sir! Fingers pressed to temples in the shapes of guns instead of salutes, instead of yellow flowers. Sir, yes, sir. Sir, yes, sir! The soldiers chanted in unison on the green field, a green so much brighter, so much more vibrant than any other. The soldiers marched in unison under the commands of their officers or sergeants or generals—did I ever pay attention to who meant what?

  Soldier boots stomped the grass. Fake grass. Fake green.

  Lumen boots crashed against the floorboards inside the manor. One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four, silence, and then—four, three, two, one, four, three, two, one, four, three, two, one, four, three, two, one, silence.

  “Breathe,” I whispered.

  The water felt saltine. It burst with the taste of an ocean. Salt and seaweed were on my tongue.

  One, breathe in—breathe out, repeat, repeat.

  I filled my lungs with the smell of an ocean and breathed it into existence.

  Two, close your eyes.

  I closed my eyes against the things I already knew, closed them for a second time despite never having opened them after the first.

  Three, drown.

  The air of the coming morning filled my lungs like balloons until it hurt, until the cold of the air inside was too sharp, too shocking. Until every ounce of friction in the air burned into my bones.

  Everything went quiet. Snapped quiet.

  I was adrift in space, stepping out into the void from the airlock of a spaceship. Silence, and my own breath. Breathe in, breathe in, breathe out. I sank down, down, down. The surface of the water closed over me until nothing touched the air, until there was no oxygen in me except what was already in my blood, until even my lungs were void of it.

  Drown, or, alternatively, stargaze.

  I’m right here. Right in front of you. Open your eyes. Welcome home.

  I opened my eyes and crumbled at the feet of this god that sat in the back of my mind and watched silently, always there, always watching.

  This omniscient creature of static white stood over me, faceless and voiceless.

  “Help me,” I cried out, and my voice echoed off the mirrored planes surrounding me.

  Help yourself, it laughed. This god laughed at me, at this saltwater that spilled from my eyes, at me knelt before it to beg for help like some weaker, lesser being. Weaker and still somehow crueler than its laughter. Help yourself.

  “How? I don’t know myself. I don’t remember who I was, I don’t remember who I am, I don’t remember who I’m supposed to be. Why won’t you help me?”

  I pushed myself up from the ground, or maybe I pushed the ground down, or maybe this place didn’t have direction or substance and the pool of water that made the ceiling was just a condensed vision of the universe from afar. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

  You read the sky like a map. One would think you knew how. Look at yourself. Do you see? Do you see the galaxies within you? Do you see the constellations of your mind? You think I’m a god for existing this way and you haven’t looked at yourself. Or maybe, you have. Who you were, who you are, who you will be—does it matter?

  “Does it matter?” My words shattered into a thousand shining shards, echoed through the water like sonar, bounced off nothing but themselves. Does it matter? “Does it matter—I, it, yeah, yes, yes! Yes, it fucking matters!”

  What is a bear?

  “What?” I blinked.

  What was a bear? What is a bear? What will a bear be? Who was a bear, who is a bear, who
will a bear be? A bear is a bear. A bear was and always will be a bear, in life, in death, in this strange plane you drift in. What does a bear do?

  “A bear doesn’t introspect—”

  How do you know? Are you a bear, or are you, you?

  “I am me,” I said slowly, and watched a bear and her cub in the stars. I watched as they raced in the unmoving dark void. They wore each constellation like a blanket over their velvet bodies. Like the scorpion settling into the water above. “What do I do? That’s your next question. Isn’t it?”

  What do you do? What will you do? What have you done? The tone of the question wasn’t accusatory, didn’t blame me for something I didn’t yet know, didn’t shame me for something I couldn’t yet remember. What are you doing right now, right here, dreaming the taste of saltwater? What are you doing in this mirror plane begging for answers you already have?

  “I’m trying to understand,” I told this god. “I’m trying to understand what I have done.”

  So you can choose the right path for what you will do.

  “Yes.”

  What have you done? Have you silenced your memories? Did it help? Were you successful in removing all the love that you have felt in return for blissful ignorance? Was it blissful, truly blissful? What was it that you put in place of the real reason, in place of the pain in your chest that plagued you night after night?

  “Do you understand this, Soren?” The Emperor knelt on the marble floor, the way he did when I was a child, but now I stood over him and he was a beggar with his hands held out to me in a desperate plea. “There are millions of lives in this world and I cannot save them all, but you—you can. You can save us. You can save us all.”

  Was it duty, or was it fear?

  Astra stood in the middle of the sim-room, but now, there was no simulation. It was her, standing regal with that delicate silver sword held to the side, and her cold gaze narrowed on me. She waited. You hold your chin so high. You’re so much stronger than you let anyone know, so much stronger than Asa. He snapped like a twig for you and the boy. What are you hiding from me? Who?

  There’s no one. There’s no one!

  “I was protecting them,” I whispered, but my father broke fast and I was hardly different. “I couldn’t let her control me the way she… the way… I…”

  She was in the dark room. She was in the dark room and the door was shut and the light was off and I was battered and bruised and I didn’t know what to do. I stood against the back wall directly in front of her. She stood in the middle of the room.

  “How much do you know?”

  I know you’re psychotic. I know you’re manipulative.

  “Has he told you who I am, since you’ve lost your mind? I am higher than the Emperor. Who do you think is higher than the Emperor?” She walked so lightly that she didn’t make a sound. She floated across the dark room like a scent rather than a breeze. “Has he told you who rules you? I woke you up. Aren’t you afraid of someone who can do that to you? Soren, tell me. Who am I? Who am I to you? Who am I to the ones I control?”

  My bruises ached at the memory of her knuckles, my small fractures screaming all over again. Stay away! Stay away from me! My body was a fire.

  “I am the Apotelesma of the Fox Council.”

  She said it softly, and a wicked smile played at her painted mouth. Her hand shot up. Her fingers caught my throat like the jaw of a snake on a mouse. She was the snake. I was the mouse.

  “Everyone has something they will get on their knees and beg for, Soren. Your father was weak. I had to help him understand. Your brother was willing. He saw the light before I showed it to him. If you don’t work, know I have a piece of you. Know I don’t need you alive. Know that this world is dying, and without me, you won’t live anyway. The planet is choking and burning and drowning. Understand? You are the future, but this planet—we can’t come back from what we’ve done. But we can make a new one. A new world. A new beginning.”

  Dying.

  Did you believe her? Do you believe her? Will you believe her? She tells you the world is dying and tells you that you can save it and what do you do? How do you repay her? It’s for the good of the future, isn’t it? For the good of humankind. You agreed. You said yes, didn’t you?

  The silver mirror walls reflected the chandeliers into infinity. A hint of a smile danced across the face of my father’s mirrored self as if my eyes were not red from the tears that dried on my cheeks, as if my hands were not curled so tightly that my nails dug red crescent moons into my palms. As if his daughter didn’t shake from the loss of her only friend in that goddamned place.

  I was a live-wire. Raw, electric current in the shape of a person, but not a person. I hadn’t felt human for years. I hadn’t felt like myself for years. I stood at the end of the table and held his gaze in the mirror, pinned him against the silver with daggers, and I thought I almost remembered what it was like.

  What it was like to be human enough to care. I do. I do care, and he sits there in his black suit, smiling, uncaring. Like she doesn’t matter, like she’s just a simulation, like this human being never existed.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I hissed, and suddenly I was all teeth. “She was my friend! She was my friend and she’s dead! Why don’t you care? Why don’t you care?”

  He sat straight-backed with his elbows on the armrests of his ornate chair, hands resting loose over the ends. He was clean shaven and groomed to perfection and his golden watch that always ticked without fail under his sleeve was missing.

  His voice was as groomed as the rest. “I don’t have that luxury, Soren. Sit, please, our dinner is growing cold.”

  I pulled the chair out from the table, and the legs of it scraped loud across the marble, screeched enough that a muscle in his cheek twitched. I sat. Straight backed, elbows on the armrests of my ornate chair, hands resting loose over the ends.

  I mirrored him, but I didn’t smile. “As cold as you? Frozen, ice cold, frigid, glacial. I didn’t think we’d be having dinner in the freezer. I thought you were a little more human than that.”

  “I told you, I don’t have the luxury of caring when it comes to—”

  “Luxury? That’s strange, Asa. You have every other luxury anyone could possibly imagine. You’re the Emperor of the United North American Empire, you fly in private jets, you live in a mansion where people wait on you hand and foot. You have an army of soldiers and robots that will do anything you tell them to. You live in marble halls with crystal chandeliers and you drink champagne like it isn’t scarce in this world and you wear suits imported from across the sea and you wear a watch made of gold and diamonds and you sit here while children are crafted into soldiers. While innocent people are dying under your feet.” I burned with rage so hot that I was reminded of James, but this wasn’t from flame. This was an electric shock that coursed through my veins.

  He leaned forward and took the cover off his silver platter of food, picking up his silver fork and his silver knife. He gestured down the long table to the same array in front of me. “Please, calm down and eat. Don’t let it go to waste.”

  I slammed my palms against the edge of the table, all of the ornaments and shiny things leaping with the force. He leapt too.

  “How can I?” My voice was a crackling, roaring fire. “How can I sit here and eat a—a—a steak and potatoes and—and carrots and green beans? An entire fucking meal, while the people you’re claiming to protect haven’t eaten this much in a day, in a week—I don’t understand! Why don’t they matter to you? Why doesn’t she matter to you?”

  “Do you know where this food came from, these carrots and beans and potatoes?” He asked as he pressed his fork into a carrot and sliced his knife through it like butter.

  My stomach churned at the sight of him chewing, at the thought of the Talons. At the thought of Jack and how I was certain he would never forgive me for James. “Why? Why do you have to do that? Do you let them eat their own crops, or do they starve like everyone
else?”

  “Soren. You know you can see him—”

  “When I give in, right? When I finish training? When I do your bidding like a goddamn robot and fix everything you could fix with a little bit of science and effort, is that right, am I getting close? You’ll let me see him when you’ve broken me completely, when I’m so different from who I used to be that neither of us will recognize me and we’ll be heartbroken all over again. Feel the worst pain so I’ll grow numb to the rest, right?” I stood up from the table. Static brewed along the surface of my skin. Sparks scattered like fireworks with every small movement.

  The chandelier flickered with each step I took pacing the room.

  He drank his champagne. He drank the bubbling liquid gold from a crystal flute and I knew I had consumed more than my fair share but—I couldn’t stand to look at it.

  “That’s not what will happen. This isn’t to break you, it—it’s to help you. I need you to be strong. I need you to be in control.”

  “Like you’re in control?” I choked out a laugh, forced it out like I forced my words. I wanted to go to sleep. I wanted to curl into a weak little ball and pretend none of this was real. “You’re a puppet with Astra’s hand up your ass making you speak.”

  “I am trying!” He stood as his words rattled the mirrors with the thunder that lay barely dormant beneath his skin.

  His chair screeched back on the marble floor. He grit his teeth for a moment, and then he was calm again. His hands smoothed his suit out and adjusted the sleeves of his shirt.

  “I am trying to be a good father. I am trying to be a good leader. You don’t know how hard it is to be both.”

  I threw my hands out to the sides. “You’re trying to be a good father, to who? Because it’s not me! And Pilot is locked up in a glass box like a damn trophy, like a museum piece, so it isn’t him either.”

  He looked at me with his brows drawn together, working his jaw for the right thing to say. He stepped forward, and then again, and then again, and stopped a few feet in front of me. Not too close, not far enough.

  “Soren,” he begged, “I need you to listen. I need you to understand. It is either this, here, with my rules and my orders and the soldiers and scientists and doctors and engineers who only listen to me, or it’s her. It’s Astra or it’s me, or the Fox Council takes you, and they take Pilot, and they take—they will take everyone who shares our blood and put an end to us.”