Epilogue 2 The downfall
Xavier
Weeks later
“Stay still, everyone,” Melody says, as she applies the final swishes to her painting while the rest of us are enjoying dinner.
I can’t believe even during a random family dinner, she’s busy painting everyone instead of eating. Guess there’s no stopping when the muse takes over.
Out of nowhere, she yells, “Finished!”
“It’s beautiful, absolutely stunning,” Atlas mutters as he stands a few feet away, observing over her shoulder.
“Wait, wait, I gotta show everyone.”
She puts down her brushes and lifts the painting to show it off to the entire family. But the second she gets off her chair, her eyes suddenly roll into the back of her head.
Her hand reaches for the table, but she grabs the paint instead, and it all tumbles down with her.
People jump up from their seats to get to her.
Everything goes by in a blur as Melody hits her head on the cold floor. The beautiful painting she made of the entire group is covered in splotches from the red paint that dropped along with her.
“Someone call an ambulance!” Penelope shrieks.
Lana immediately pulls out her phone and dials 911.
Alistair is right beside her, holding her hand, while the rest of us hold each other. His finger pushes against her neck to check her pulse.
“Her heart …” Alistair mutters, clutching her body. “No. No. NO. MELODY!”
“No, not another one, please, not another one,” Penelope begs on her hands and knees, cradling Melody.
Atlas just stands there, frozen to the floor with his fists clenched, rage darkening his face, and I recognize that look. It’s the unfairness of it all. His fingers flinch as he tries to reach for the painting.
“Out of the way,” Apollo growls, shoving them all aside, and the painting is scooted underneath the table.
All I can do is watch in horror as Apollo puts Melody on the floor, rips open her shirt, and places both hands on her chest, pushing in and out.
I feel helpless. Confused. Numb.
“Atlas. Help,” Apollo growls.
Atlas immediately springs into action, going to his hands and knees to grab her face.
“You breathe. I pump,” he tells Atlas, who nods in agreement. “Do you know how?”
Atlas nods a couple of times.
“Tilt her head back and open her mouth.”
Apollo continues chest compressions.
My little sister…
I’m still frozen in my seat, wondering how long she’ll be gone. If they’ll succeed in bringing her back.
Or if this is the moment when it all comes tumbling down.
“My baby,” Penelope wails, staying close. “Don’t go too hard on her, you’ll break her bones.”
“Let me work so I can save her life, goddammit!” Apollo growls.
“He’s trained in CPR,” Aspen mutters, quivering in place, like she doesn’t know what to do either.
No one does. No one can prepare for the inevitable. Even when we all knew she was fragile. Sick.
Apollo briefly stops pushing into her chest and glances up toward his brother. “Now.”
Atlas nods, sweat dripping down his forehead as he grips Melody’s chin. And he covers her lips with his to give her the kiss of life.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Breathe.
…