Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
Tuscany
Slowly, I wake up, The Cradle gradually filtering into my consciousness as light creeps through my eyelids. I feel warmth. Which is odd, foreign, even, after so long… asleep?
Was I asleep?
Lying on my side, I feel the sheets around my waist, each limb heavy as though thick layers of fog gather around me.
When I open my eyes, my eyelashes flutter several times, trying to clear the haze from my vision and my mind.
I squeeze something soft and look down at my arms. Eagle Rome is cuddled to my chest. A shiver rackets through me, remnants of whatever dream or nightmare now releasing its grip.
Where am I?
What happened?
Letting the stillness wash over me, I breathe deeply, gathering strength to face whatever lies beyond the sheath of my sheet. The Cradle. The citizens—
A vision of me sitting on a vine-woven throne, gazing at a bloom in a vase, jolts through me.
Sharpness hits my chest. I remember. I tried to stand—couldn’t.
Heard Kong but wasn’t able to respond. The corridor.
Little Tuscany. The bath. Oh, visceral sorrow coils inside my stomach, making a permanent nest.
I try to sit up, but my limbs feel heavy and unresponsive. I remember the anger, the dread, the helplessness. I was trapped—smiling and drowning, murdering little Tuscany, putting her out of her misery, while gulping bathwater.
I looked up and saw… myself.
I looked down and saw… myself.
Tears spill from my eyes, rushing down my cheeks in hot, relentless streams. I bury my face in my hands.
If I don’t protect her, who will? I killed her!
Why did I do that? I hate and love her. I want to scream, to let the world know the pain that embeds itself in my chest, needled-claws sinking in, inserting poisons.
I sob softly, soundlessly, a desperate plea for release. For change. For it to end.
At some point, I fall back to sleep.