by Emma Couette
“Probably,” the nurse says, “but it’s not your job to worry about it. You need to rest. I’m not going to let all my hard work go to waste. Close your eyes. You need to sleep this off. Trust me.”
I roll my eyes. What does she know? Injury or no, I can’t just relax. The Charger is still out there, planning, killing… The train battle was the first of many. This war is far from over. Yet, I do as she says, sinking back into the pillows...
Pillows.
There are pillows on my bed.
Oh Guild. I am lying on a pillow.
I’m going to die.
They’re coming.
They’re going to shoot me.
Oh Guild...
A beeping sound goes off in the room as I sit bolt upright in bed, eyes flying open. “Jax! Get them away! They’re coming for my mother! Help me!”
I’m not seeing the hospital room anymore with its faded pink wallpaper. I’m seeing the blue painted bedroom from my nightmares, blood everywhere and my mother lying lifeless, me unable to do anything but scream...
I rip the pillows from the bed, throwing them like they are hand grenades that will blow off my fingers at any second.
I hear Jax’s voice. “Oh God,” he whispers, “the pillows.”
Then the nurse, “Somebody sedate her!”
I’m seeing two places at once. My mom’s dead face stares up at me as the nurse comes forward and plunges a needle into my neck.
The world fades again and this time, I wonder if I’ll wake up. I wonder if I care.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The room is dark this time and I’m lying on my side. Either there are no voices or I’ve lost my hearing. I crack open my eyes and look to my left. Jax is in the chair again, slouched over as if sleeping.
I let out a sigh of relief. “Jax?”
He jumps in his seat and then scoots it closer, taking his hand in mine. “How much do you remember?” he asks me.
“You were there. The nurses were there. We...we kissed and then... Then there were pillows...” I shut my eyes tight. “How bad was it?”
“Not too bad,” he replies, squeezing my hand. “I’m so sorry. I never even thought...”
“It’s okay. It’s hard to remember a fear that’s so stupid.”
“No,” he argues, “it’s not stupid.”
“You know,” I sigh, “I should tell you why it scares me. Maybe talking about it will help.”
“If that’s what you want to do, then I’m all ears.”
I take a deep breath.
This isn’t going to be easy.
Are you sure you want to tell him?
Do you really think this is a good idea?
I do, I tell myself.
I have to tell somebody and he’s the only one I trust enough to be vulnerable, if only for a little while. I need to get this off my chest before it crushes me.
You need to let her go.
I wince.
“Silent?”
“Yes,” I reply, “I’m getting to it. This isn’t...easy.”
He squeezes my hand. “It’s okay. Take your time. You can do this.”
He’s right. You can do this.
I can do this.
I take another deep breath before I plunge in. “One morning when I was young and still lived with my mother, I woke up to a silent house. Sunlight was streaming through my bedroom window and I wondered why my mother hadn’t woken me yet. It had to be nine o’clock in the morning, if not later. I thought it was strange, but I was five years old. I didn’t consider the gory possibilities; I just hopped out of bed and walked the short distance down the hall to my mother’s bedroom.”
I take a shaky breath. I can see myself walking down that wallpapered hall. I can hear my feet making the hardwood floors creak…
“My heart was full of light and laughter as I padded down the hall,” I go on, “the floorboards squeaking under my weight in the old house.”
Mommy slept in, I thought. She’ll feel awfully silly when I wake her up instead. Maybe I can be mother today.
“I planned to surprise her by waking her up instead,” I tell Jax. “I was giggling when I stopped in front of her door and I clamped my hands around my mouth to silence the sound. The door was ajar, but I thought nothing of it.”
I can feel myself shaking, feel the silence of the house pressing in on me, but still, my younger self did not notice the strangeness, could not tell the difference.
Don’t wake her up yet. It’s a surprise. It’s not like the surprise of blue tulips from her garden. She won’t be upset this time. This is a good surprise.
I continue talking to Jax, continue to relay the story, but my mind loses itself to the memory. I’m standing outside that door on that fateful day, with no idea that I’m in for the kind of “surprise” that will make me hate surprises for the rest of my life.
I stifle another giggle and push the door open the rest of the way. It swings without a sound, playing along with my game.
Wait for it…
I step into the room.
Now!
“Rise and shine, Mommy!” I call out. “It’s time for another day!” I raise my hands in the air and grin, but both my arms and smile fall when there comes no response.
“Mama?” I say.
I look across the room to the bed.
Maybe I wasn’t loud enough?
But then, I notice. The room is covered in white...stuff.
There are some by my feet and I pick one up.
A feather?
My happy mood fizzles out.
What happened to the birdy?
I look around the room and realize the feathers are everywhere. Mommy’s beautiful blue masterpiece has turned into a snow globe.
“Mama! Mama! What happened? What happened to the birdy?” I exclaim.
I’m crying as I run to her bedside, stray feathers tickling my bare feet.
I skid to a stop a few feet away, nearly losing my balance in my urgency to halt.
I feel cold suddenly and start to tremble as I look at my mother in bed. I curl my arms around myself as more tears build up behind my eyes.
Mommy isn’t sleeping.
No, she has to be! The birdy…
But it isn’t a bird, I realize now.
The feathers came from the pillow…a once-white pillow that is now very, very red.
Blood is splattered across the headboard, pooling on the pillowcase, and dripping onto the floor a few inches in front of where I stand, shaking.
“Mama…” I whisper, crying now. “Mama!”
But she won’t hear me.
She’s dead.
“No!” I scream. “No, Mommy, come back!”
The feathers are covering her, sticking to her pale face, and my screams turn louder as I lift my feet to scrape off the ones attached to me.
“Get off, get off!”
Standing on one foot, I’m unbalanced, and a second later I slip.
I hit the ground hard and my movement stirs up the feathers around me. They swirl in the air and land on my face, arms, legs…
“No! Get off! You can’t have me!”
I claw at them, nearly tearing my yellow pajamas.
I scream and I scream and I scream….
“Silent!”
The voice pierces through my skull, tries to drown out the screams still ringing out.
Mother is dead. Mother is dead.
“Silent, can you hear me?”
Someone is shaking me, but that isn’t right. That’s not what happened.
Rough hands grasp the side of my arms and hold tight. It shocks me and the image of my mother’s bedroom flickers.
Flickers?
Oh.
“That’s it, Silent. Breathe. I’m here. Look at me.”
Ajax.
My mother’s blue room fades into Jax’s blue eyes as I listen to his voice.
Oh Guild…
His eyes bring me back.
“Are you okay
?” Jax says. He’s standing over the bed, hands still around my arms, but loose now.
“I… I think so.” I take a shuddering breath. “Damn. It felt so real… I could see myself there. It was horrible.”
“I could feel it too and I am so sorry…” He leans down and holds me close, as much of a hug as we can manage given my state and the IVs still stuck in me. I savour his warmth, his presence, his reality. He is alive. I am alive. We’re okay.
“Did I get the whole story out? I kind of lost track of time and place.” I mumble the words into his chest, careful not to mention any details. My body is still quivering.
“Enough of it, I think,” he replies. He squeezes me tighter. “You should rest.”
He pulls away and I look up at him. “No, I need to tell you the rest.”
He grimaces. “Are you sure that’s wise? I don’t think I can watch that unfold again.”
“The worst of it is over. All I have to do now is fill in the gaps.”
“Okay,” he sighs. “Go on, but if you start shaking again, I’m calling it a night, deal?”
I nod. “Deal. So, I learned much later that she’d been shot in the head with a pistol. My young mind didn’t know enough to put together the cause of death, only that she was gone.” I shudder.
He grabs my hand and squeezes it. “It’s okay. I’m here. You’re not alone. God, I feel like I’ve lost her too, listening to you talk about her. She didn’t deserve to die, but her death made you stronger.”
I try to smile. “Maybe,” I allow, “but before it made me stronger, Jax, it destroyed me.”
“Yes, loss always does, but look at you now. You could’ve given up lying on that floor, you could’ve gone through the rest of your life like a zombie, but you didn’t. That’s a lot for a five-year-old to go through, to witness, and yet, here you are. You’re a little rough around the edges and the past will never disappear, but don’t think for a second it destroyed you.”
How does he always know what to say?
I don’t know what to say to him, as usual, so I continue on with the story instead. Maybe the words will come. “So anyway, I screamed and cried for what felt like hours after I found her. Eventually, I left the carnage and returned to my room where I crawled into bed and stayed there for the longest time. They came for me in the afternoon.”
Jax looks at me sharply. “Who?”
“The assassins,” I reply. “They told me that Resistance members had killed my mother and that I should go with them if I didn’t want to be next. That’s how I became a Guild Ward, how most become Guild Wards I imagine, and that’s how I developed a deep hatred for your organization and a fear of pillows and feathers.”
I take another deep breath.
“I had nightmares for the first six months after and panic attacks regularly for the first year. It’s a wonder I survived, given how distracted and exhausted I was daily. I’d wake up every night freaking out, terrified that someone was going to come shoot me because of the pillow I was sleeping on. I learned soon enough though, and refused to use them at all. It was better once I got my own room and could let go of the fear of waking to other people’s last screams, simply because they slept with pillows.
“That’s another thing too,” I muse. “I never heard my mother scream that night or the gun go off and I’ve always felt so guilty because of it. If only I had heard something, I might have been able to save her. She could still be alive, but then...I might never have met you.” I look up at him.
He smiles slightly and says, “I’m sorry that was how you lost her. I’m sorry you had to lose her, but I’m not sorry I met you and I never will be. No matter what happens, I will always hold onto these memories, the new memories we will make together.”
I’m tearing up and all I can choke out is a feeble thank you.
He smiles wider. “You’re welcome. You’ll probably think me crazy for mentioning this, but you should get some sleep now.”
I reach out and grab his hand. “Don’t go.”
“Silent, I...”
I squeeze his hand tighter and lock eyes with him. “Stay. I just need to know you’re there. I need someone to keep the nightmares at bay.”
He nods. “Okay.”
I shuffle over and pat the now empty space beside me. “Here,” I say.
He smiles. “You sure we’re both going to fit?”
I shrug. “There’s no harm in trying.”
He sighs. “Fine, try not to fall off the other side, eh?”
I laugh and grab hold of the bed frame as he eases himself down beside me and lies down over the covers. We fit perfectly and I relax, laying my head on his shoulder. I close my eyes.
He runs his hand through my hair. I listen to his heartbeat and the sound of his steady breathing. Soon, it lulls me to sleep.
The nightmares stay away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Jax is still there when I wake up and I’ve never been happier. He’s so warm and comfortable. My head rests on his chest, rising and falling with each breath he takes, each breath that tells me we’re both still alive.
I sigh, happy, and Jax groans. His eyes flutter open. He looks confused for a second, but then he sees me and smiles. I smile back.
“Morning,” he yawns. “Sleep well?” He closes his eyes again and I almost faint. Sleepy Jax is the most adorable thing ever.
“Actually,” I say, “I had the best sleep I’ve had in a long time. Thank you...for staying.”
“You’re welcome,” he replies. “I slept pretty well too.” He opens one eye and grins at me. “We should do this more often.”
My heart stutters. Butterflies dance in my stomach and I blush.
He looks at me curiously. “I meant sleep, Silent. Calm down. What did you think I meant?”
I slap him on the wrist. “That is not what you were implying, Jax! Don’t lie to me.” I try to sound stern, but I can’t stop smiling at him. Guild, this whole love thing isn’t so bad.
“All right,” he sighs, “I give in. You’re right; that’s not what I meant, but do you blame me?”
“Sadly, no.”
He laughs. “You know me so well, it’s dangerous.”
“What’s dangerous is the fact that you slept with an assassin.”
“Reformed assassin,” he reminds me, “and what do you mean by slept with? Did I miss something last night?”
“What? No! I... I meant sleep and you know it!”
He laughs harder. “Relax, I’m just teasing you.”
I cross my arms. “Well, I don’t like it.”
“Oh, don’t give me that look. Where’s that dangerous assassin you spoke of?”
I scowl at him.
“There she is,” he says.
I smile. “You’re something else, eh?”
“Well, I should hope so,” he replies, grinning. It’s the same answer I gave when he asked me that question weeks ago.
“Get out of here,” I say.
“Never,” he replies. He kisses me on the top of the head.
I lean forward involuntarily, hoping for something more, but then the door bangs open and I hear a stern voice say, “And just what is going on here?”
We jump apart like scalded cats and sit up straight, facing the intruder. The same nurse that scolded us the day before is standing in the doorway, studying us with her cold “I will not take any crap” face, her hands on her ample hips. She’s wearing a black outfit with red flowers this time, hair still up.
“What do you think you are doing, boy?” she asks Jax.
“I...” he stammers, face red and I almost laugh as I realize he’s embarrassed, and intimidated by this old lady. “I was keeping Ms. Night warm. It, uh...gets pretty cold in here. Don’t know if you’ve, um...noticed.”
I do laugh now. “Nice cover story, genius.”
The nurse scowls at the both of us. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, Mr. Forrester, but this is not going to help her recover. So get out and le
t me and the other nurses see to our jobs.”
“No,” I protest. “Don’t make him leave. Can’t he sit in the chair again?”
“And have him screw up your heart monitor results? I don’t think so, young lady. He goes.”
I sigh. “Fine,” I give in, but I give the woman my best glare to let her know who she’s pissed off.
The lady just rolls her eyes and looks at Jax. “Well?”
He sighs too. “All right, all right, I’m going. Just give me a second.” He leans down and kisses me quick on the lips. The heart monitor screeches again and I flinch a bit at the noise.
I look at the nurse when he pulls away; she is giving us a death stare that could level buildings.
Jax is leaving me alone, with her?
Jax jumps off of the bed and smiles at the nurse. “Good luck, Shirley. This one won’t be nearly as cooperative now that she’s awake.”
I clamp my hands over my mouth to keep from giggling. The nurse’s name is Shirley.
Jax winks at me. “Don’t worry, Silent. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
“Enough already,” Shirley says. “Get out.”
“I’m going,” Jax replies and he heads out the door, closing it behind him.
I smile to myself. He really is something else.
I have to deal with the nurses poking and prodding at me for a good hour. I don’t get a moment’s peace. They check my blood pressure, heartbeat, temperature, and reflexes. They shine flashlights in my eyes—with great pleasure, I might add—and cut off my pain medication. That’s when I realize how close I came to dying, as soon as my lower leg starts throbbing. Then, the nurses pull up my gown to check the wound.
It takes a lot of effort to hold back my gasp. A line of thick stitches closes up the angry red gash on my leg.
Shirley feels the skin around it and I flinch. “How deep...?” I gasp through the pain.
It hit the bone,” she replies. “You have a hairline fracture you’ll have to be careful with, but no permanent damage. You’re lucky the axe hit your shin and not your thigh or you never would’ve lasted long enough for us to get to you. We were nearly too late as it was. You’re a fortunate girl, Ms. Night, and you can thank your boy for making that tourniquet. It saved your life.”