Fragmented

by Madeline Dyer

  I nod, because I don’t know what else to do, and carry on with the work. A few minutes later, it’s my turn to knead the dough that Soraya’s made from the sorghum flour. I find it therapeutic, in a strange way, and I gradually work through the many batches.

  I’ve no idea what time it is when we finish, and I head off to the gathering area, alone.

  “Kyla!”

  I spot the child sitting with a group of other girls and race over to her, look around. Nyesha’s not in sight, but I’m sure she must be close by.

  The girl eyes me warily as I approach. I try to smile, try to appear friendly, but I don’t think I’m good with children. I sit down next to her, crossing my legs. The other girls immediately leave. Convenient.

  “Hello, Kyla.” I try a bigger smile this time, manage it.

  She watches me, eyes large and round. She looks a lot like Nyesha.

  “So, that nightmare you had,” I begin, keeping my voice low. Then I wince, wonder if I’m being patronizing. I lean in closer. My stomach rumbles. “I need you to tell me about it, tell me what you saw.”

  Kyla shakes her head. She’s got some dried food around her mouth, and my eyes are drawn to it. “I didn’t have a bad dream.”

  I look around, keeping an eye out for Nyesha. “Kyla… This is really important. I won’t tell anyone, I promise. You’re not in trouble. I just need you to tell me.”

  She shakes her head, starts to stand up. I rise up onto my knees, sit back on my heels.

  My heart quickens. “I’ll let you in on a secret, Kyla. I get bad dreams like that too.”

  Oh Gods. I shouldn’t have said that. I look around quickly, but no one else is looking.

  Kyla’s eyes widen. “With a bison?”

  I nod, feel my chest tighten. “Yes. This can be our little secret.” I wince as I repeat back the words Marouska—that traitor—once said to me. But it’s too late, I can’t undo it now.

  “You won’t tell anyone?” Kyla looks doubtful.

  “No. Of course not. I promise. But we’ve got to stick together. We can tell each other our bad dreams. Talking always helps—”

  “Seven?”

  Nyesha appears out of nowhere and grabs me. Her eyes burn as she puts herself between her daughter and me.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Her words are cold and sharp.

  She’s waiting for me to speak—a lot of people are, I realize; the women have all stopped serving the food, and several men are watching. Oh Gods. What if someone heard me?

  “Nyesha, I—”

  “Get away from her!” Manning suddenly yells.

  I look up, see him march through the doorway, heading straight for us, three men either side of him—his brothers, must be, the familiarity is so strong. And they all carry weapons: axes, knives, sharp blades.

  “Get away from that child. Both of you. Get away from the fraudulent Seer.”

  Nyesha screams, throws her arms wide, shielding Kyla. I look toward Manning, feel blood rush to my ears. Kyla shrieks, and then other children are crying. Women herd them out the room as quickly as they can.

  Manning and his men get closer, blades flashing. The Seer from our welcoming ceremonies joins the group, a wooden bat in his hands.

  “Stop it!” I scream, and then I’m next to Nyesha, grabbing her hand, making a human wall, Kyla behind us.

  Nyesha wrenches her hand from mine, hisses something I don’t catch, then starts shouting. Her words fog my ears, I can’t make them out, but I hear Kyla scream, “Mummy!”

  “Get out the way,” Manning snarls, looks at Nyesha and me. “That girl’s tainted.”

  “She’s just a child!” Nyesha screams. “She hasn’t done anything wrong!”

  Everyone’s stopped now, looking at us. I twist around. We’re too out in the open. Someone could go behind us, grab Kyla. Oh Gods.

  “The corner!” I hiss to Nyesha, and I try to pull her along.

  We need to get to the corner, but she doesn’t understand. Her hand flies out, and her nails scratch the back of my hand. A string of saliva flies from her mouth as she screams, tears running down her face.

  Manning advances. He bares his teeth. The axe is big. Bigger than the ones the executioners had.

  “Seize them.”

  The nearest Zharat man lunges for me. I sidestep, crash into Nyesha, fall backward. My back hits something hard on the floor, and I grunt. Then I’m rolling over, tasting blood at the back of my mouth. I force my head up as I move, see her. Kyla’s there, a foot away, eyes wide. I fling myself at her, grab her arm, push her behind me.

  Two men have hold of her mother, wrestling her to the floor. I hear something crack—something like a bone—and a high-pitched scream fills the room.

  I try to tell Kyla it’s all right, but she’s screaming because her mother’s screaming. Nyesha’s kicking out, and more men are going to her, holding her down. I keep my hand on Kyla’s shoulder, feel her shaking.

  “Get over there, that corner.” I try to say the words quietly—but my voice cracks, and it’s too loud. But Kyla and I are moving, heading backward, toward the corner.

  There’s no one else there. The women have all moved to the other side. Kyla trips on something, and I yank her up.

  “Get away from her, woman!”

  Manning and four men. In front of us. My breath comes in short, sharp bursts. The chief lifts his axe up, and the blade refracts light about, reminds me of the Enhanced—dizziness tugs at my edges.

  “No!” Nyesha screams, the sound drawing out, on and on and on and on.

  “She hasn’t done anything!” I look around. Need help. Corin? He’s not here. Nyesha’s still struggling against three men. “You can’t hurt her!”

  She’s shaking, Kyla’s shaking and crying, screaming, but my brain is tuning out her sounds.

  Manning regards me with a venomous look. “We can and we will. Step aside.”

  I scream as the axe swings down toward us, duck, and push Kyla to the right.

  “You can’t hurt her! She’s a child! She hasn’t done anything!” My voice is hoarse, and the sounds aren’t right. I’m not making sense.

  “She’s a fraud, the evil spirits be controlling her, and now she be controlling you, making you stand up for her.” Manning spits the words at me. “Step aside now, woman, else I’ll kill you an’ all.”

  No. I grit my teeth, feel pain in my jaw.

  I am not letting her die.

  I am not.

  “Step aside now. I won’t ask again.”

  I don’t move.

  Nyesha screams. I hear another crack. She screams more and—

  Something hits me in the shoulder. Hard. Throws me off balance. I stumble, fall to the right before a hand wrenches me back. Jed. He’s here. For a second, I think he’s going to help, and I see something warm in his eyes, something that makes me certain and—

  He hits me.

  I fall hard, and—

  “Kyla!” Nyesha screams. “No! No! Kyla!”

  I see the Seer strike the girl.

  I see an axe head plunge into her ribcage.

  I see another blade slice into her skull, as if it’s not made of bone, but jelly.

  And blood.

  Too much blood.

  Nyesha screams.

  “Take the body away. Yanugh, prepare a group to go to the Falls.”

  Jed shoves me into the floor, leans over me. I hit the back of my head, cry out, see spots everywhere, all over Jed’s face. I smell alcohol on him, see how dirty his teeth are as he presses his face up to mine.

  “Never do that again.”

  Then he moves away. I roll onto my side, a hand pressed against my lower ribs on each side. Pain. I try to breathe, try not to look at Kyla’s body… But I can’t not. It’s there. Right in front of me. The blood. A sea of blood. Looks black in the light.

  My stomach flips. I throw up bile; the lurid smell wraps around me, squeezes me.

  I cough, shudder, try to wipe the back
of my mouth, and then Nyesha’s right in front of me, free.

  She slaps me, throws her weight onto me, punching, kicking.

  I scream, try to fight back, try to push her off me, but I can’t. And we’re covered in blood. Both of us. And the men aren’t doing anything. I see Jed, not far away, his head bowed.

  “This is your fault,” Nyesha screeches into my ear. “You’ve killed my child.”

  Nyesha’s right. It is my fault. Kyla’s dead, because of me. Someone must have heard me. It is my fault.

  Or was the timing too quick? Manning and those men appeared almost straight away, as if they already knew….

  I groan. I know what I’m doing—trying to make myself feel better, trying to pretend that Nyesha’s daughter isn’t dead because of me.

  “Hold still.” The woman cleaning my face grabs at my hand, waves a wadded bit of bloodied cotton wool in the other. It smells strongly of antiseptic.

  She frowns at me. I can’t remember her name, though she’s told me three times already. She thinks the bad spirits have got me too. She told Jed that. He told her to shut up, that I wasn’t the one pretending to be a Seer. Then he said something else to her, quietly though, too quiet for me to hear.

  I try to hold still, but I can’t.

  It takes a long time, but the woman eventually sends me away. Jed is waiting by the door, and he leads me toward our room. He breathes hard the whole way, clenching his fists and flaring his nostrils. His eyes are too wide as well, he’s showing too much of his sclerae, like an angered bull.

  As we get nearer to our room, I feel my heart rate get higher and higher. Too high. Until it’s pounding. But it’s not beating regularly. It’s stomping. I try to breathe more evenly, but I can’t. Because Jed’s here. And he’s angry. I can’t take a breath, not a proper one.

  It’s too hot. The tubes are too hot today. I’m sweating too much. My hands are slippery, I wipe them on my clothes, but that doesn’t help, just makes the tiny pieces of debris that were on the fabric stick to my palms. I stare at them, at the specs of dust, the tiny nylon hairs.

  I need to run. I need to get away. My legs are burning. I glance up at Jed, but he’s not looking at me, he’s focused on the end of the corridor, where our room is.

  Our room.

  Oh Gods.

  I try to work out how fast I think he is—probably not fast, he’s still limping. Because of his leg. But my knees are shaking, trembling, they feel too weak. Far too weak.

  My throat starts to close in. My next breath squeaks against it. Jed looks down at me, frowning.

  He pulls me into our room. No—we can’t be here already!

  But we are, we’re here.

  “What the hell do you think you were doing? Defending that child!”

  His words echo off the walls around me, repeating themselves, over and over. I still can’t breathe. Pain, in my throat, like the muscles are spasming and there’s no room for them and they’re crashing into one another and all I can see is the blood and Kyla’s body with her cracked skull and broken ribcage and—

  I sink to the floor.

  Jed grabs me, but I’m only vaguely aware of his hands.

  “Breathe,” he says, and I see one of his eyes, suddenly close to mine.

  But I’m trying to breathe—doesn’t he realize that? Only there’s not enough air, not enough… I can’t….

  “Breathe, S’ven. Slower. Stop panicking.” He sounds angry.

  Oh Gods.

  “S’ven.” Jed crouches in front of me, cups my face in his hands. “It is okay. Just breathe.”

  But he doesn’t sound like it’s okay—and it’s not okay, I know that; how can it ever be okay? But I try to breathe because it’s Jed and he’s angry and I don’t want to make him angrier.

  But it’s too hot in here, the sweat’s pouring off me, and I start to see blackness around the edges of my vision….

  He shakes my shoulders, hard. I scream, and then he’s telling me to breathe again.

  It’s a routine—one we settle into. Me trying to breathe, him telling me to.

  But after ten minutes, I can breathe. Properly, again.

  He swears then grunts. “It is out of your system now.”

  “What?” I press a hand to my chest. The engagement ring seems to have a pulse of its own.

  “The evilness that fraud planted within you. Manning said that might happen.” But his voice is different, and he doesn’t sound like he believes it… My stomach tightens.

  He snorts. But then the look in his eyes changes. It gets deeper somehow, softer, more intense, like he’s really looking at me. Like…and I freeze. That look. If it was Corin who was looking at me I’d think he wanted to kiss me.

  I shudder, try to look away from Jed, but at the same time I know I mustn’t look away. It’s dangerous to turn your back to a predator.

  Jed turns away. “Get some rest.”

  Then he’s gone, pulling the drape closed behind him. And I realize I’m never going to be able to forget what I’ve seen.

  The bad spirits get me in my dreams, give me nightmares.

  Raleigh’s face. Big and huge, in front of me. Glistening eye-mirrors—but they look different. Not quite as reflective. I move, and I’m standing in front of him, in front of his face. And his face is getting bigger, until his eye is as big as I am, and I can see myself—my whole body—in his eyeball, but…but there are other lines too. Slashes and crosses and curves, all at different angles. Like the insect bites on my skin. They look like words, but they’re not, they can’t be words. Unless they’re a language.

  An ancient language?

  I’m staring into his eye, which can’t really be an eye because it’s so big, and then he blinks—the rush of air sends me backward, like a dried leaf in a whirlwind.

  I fall heavily, on my back. On the floor. Gray floor. Smooth and cold, but it’s not stone.

  “My dear little Shania.”

  The words make me feel sick.

  He’s watching me. That gigantic eye. I press my elbows in, try to tuck them into my sides, but they’re suddenly too big, and he’s laughing.

  “You meant to kill her, didn’t you? That innocent child. Poor Kyla, thinking you were her friend.”

  My throat tightens, my eyes water.

  “You just threw her to the dogs,” Raleigh says. “Look at you, Shania. You don’t even care. All you’re upset about is that boyfriend of yours, how he doesn’t care. How he’s left you, even though he said he’d always be there for you. And now he’s going to replace you—with Clare. He’s going to take her away from here, in your place. Face it, Shania. No one likes you, no one trusts you. You betray everyone.”

  I gulp, and then I’m screaming. But I know there’s no point, because I know this is a nightmare. There’s no bison.

  It’s just my mind. The ground wobbles, softer still.

  And suddenly she’s here. Kyla. Her body. On the floor, in front of me.

  I smell her blood first. Rusty and salty and sharp. It’s pooling out toward me, and her skull is in two. A clean break, down the front. Can see dark purple and gray tissue inside, and the blood’s still coming out, seeping toward me. Trying to get me.

  You let her die, Seven.

  Bile rises in my throat. I try to swallow it down, end up spluttering. I turn away. But Raleigh’s eye moves around, and—wherever I go—I see Kyla’s reflection.

  Blood. Too much blood.

  Run, Seven.

  I turn and run, and the room changes. It’s getting longer, a corridor. And the floor’s stickier…much stickier.

  She’s following me.

  Kyla’s following me. She’s standing—no running—and her head is broken, and blood gushes out her chest, like a jet. It sprays toward me, splatters on my skin, soaks me, marks me for what I am.

  “Seven!”

  A female voice. but I don’t know whose… No, I do. But it can’t be. No. I don’t want to see her.

  Run, I tell myself. Got
to keep running. It’s the only way. But Kyla’s blood is everywhere. Dark and slippery, and I’m in it, ankle-deep already. It’s lapping against me, waves. Darkness.

  I start to choke, and I try to turn to see Raleigh’s eye. But it’s gone. He’s gone. And the walls have gone. I’m not inside, I’m outside.

  In a lake of blood.

  Only the blood isn’t red. It’s black.

  A black lake.

  I start to choke, my insides heaving. Got to get out. But every step I take I’m going deeper, I can’t find the way out. It’s up to my knees, my thighs. Sticky and thick, pulling me down. I scream, shrieking in a voice that isn’t mine, and—

  “Seven! Don’t go here!” Five yells, and suddenly she’s in front of me. Right in my face, standing inches from me. And—and she just appeared. In a second.

  I recoil, my hair whipping around in the wind, but the black water holds both of us together, inches apart. I stare at her again, then look up at the sky. The action’s instinctive. But there’s no bison. The Gods aren’t controlling this vision. No, of course, this is a nightmare. My sister’s dead, I can’t see her.

  Only in nightmares.

  This is a nightmare. Not real.

  I try to move my feet, but the black lake won’t let me get away. Oh Gods. I have to look at her. I have no choice.

  My stomach squeezes.

  My dead sister. The ghost of my dead sister.

  I try to form words, but can’t.

  I’m going mad. I’m seeing things. But is it madness if you see them in your dreams?

  Except before, with Five, that wasn’t a dream….

  “I haven’t got long!” Five cries. “Two’s said it’s still going to happen—you haven’t changed the future yet, you’re still on the same path!”

  I taste grit in my mouth as I stare at her. My dead sister. I shake my head. No. I was grieving for Three before when I saw her, and I was in shock—that’s why I was susceptible to the spirits’ hallucinations. When I saw her ghost. But I’m not now, am I? I’ve been calm. That was, what, a week-and-a-half ago?

  You can’t have finished grieving in that time!

  “Don’t come here!” Five screams. She still looks real, solid. I don’t understand.