Chapter 52

52

Half an hour later, the rescue helicopter arrives.

It is a big alien spaceship, its gray body blending into the night, whirling propellers booming across the quiet island, swaying treetops.

It lands in a field, flattening the grass below it like a crop circle. I watch from a distance as the orange paramedics haul Angelique onto the rescue vessel. Bella Marie is there too, her stick body ghostly under the searing lights of the helicopter, her shadow stretching sharply across the grass.

The helicopter takes off into the sky, Angelique safely tucked inside. Just before it disappears into the cloak of night, I catch sight of “CG-484” painted on the tail. Must be an identifier; the helicopter’s PLU code.

Bella Marie returns to us, an unusual line pressed between her fine, blond brows. The night paints her skin purple, a tongue after choking on a handful of grape Nerds. Her beige dress is stained with browned blood and some of it has gotten on her cheek, smeared on like a bruise.

“Oh, Julie!” She holds my hands, her eyes wide and wet. “You were so right. The paramedics said if I had called them a minute later, Angelique’s life would have been at risk. I am so thankful to you. A lifesaver!”

“Lifesaver!”

“Lifesaver!”

“Lifesaver!”

“Lifesaver!”

“Lifesaver!”

“Lifesaver!”

I cram a wide smile on my cheeks even though my gut is bubbling with corrosive liquid. “Thank you. Thank you.” I really want to be thankful. I really want to be a lifesaver, to drown in their pretty love, gobble it up like a fresh summer peach. Yet I keep having this feeling that something is wrong. A force that’s pulling me back from being swept in even though I want to, dearly.

“My loves,” says Emmeline, her doe eyes drowning in tears. She looks like a giant baby. “I’m scared. I don’t like seeing blood. It triggers me. Be with me tonight?”

“Oh no!” Maya exclaims. “Don’t be scared, we are here.”

“Think of happy things,” adds Sophia.

“We will be with you tonight, keep you safe,” says Maya.

They coo at Emmeline, dancing around her in a circle and whisking me into the tornado of their love as we pirouette into Emmeline’s bungalow and fall in her bed. A nest of beautiful girls scented like fresh grass and blood.

“Good night,” says Emmeline.

“Good night,” replies Maya.

“Good night,” adds Sophia.

“Good night,” murmurs Ana.

“Good night,” whispers Kelly.

“Good night,” says Bella Marie.

They all wait for me.

“Good night,” I say.

The girls bury their faces in the white blankets. The room is dark and sickeningly warm. I’m sweating up a storm, sandwiched between Ana’s thighs and Sophia’s armpit. Someone’s leg is sprawled across my stomach, caging me in, pressing against my ribs.

Their breaths have grown deep, restful. Somehow, they’ve all fallen asleep. I try to join them, to escape into black night and smooth slumber, but my stomach is a riptide and I can’t shake off Angelique, her blood on my hands, a pool of red between her legs, her baby. It’s done , she’d said.

What was done?

Why does it all feel so wrong?

My stomach gurgles. Something is coming back out.

I scramble out of the sheets, the tangle of pale, bloody limbs, and kneel over the toilet, spraying the porcelain bowl with pink foam and chewed tuna. Then, something hard and slick regurgitates from my esophagus. It hits my tongue first as it slithers, slimy, before plopping into the toilet.

I blink.

The mouse. Half digested. Its eyes are black, almost alive.

Dizzy with nausea, I puke up everything else: the sashimi, the alcohol, the pink and green drinks, the key lime pie. The whole time I have this perverse feeling roiling through me.

What the fuck did I do?

When there is nothing left in my stomach and I’m gagging on putrid air, I flush everything down the toilet. I can’t even look at the mouse, the poor pink thing, as it swirls into oblivion. I hobble to the sink and rinse my mouth, glance in the mirror.

My reflection makes me jump. I palm my face, my cheeks, stretch the skin around my eyes. I’m ghastly, uncanny. Almost like… Chloe the night I discovered her.

“Fuck.” I shake my head to get rid of the images. How did I end up like this? I replay the past two days. A hummingbird and a mouse and a lumberjack. Lots of dancing and laughs. It was fun, I remember; I was elated, joyous. I was loved. It was good. Beautiful. Until… the blood. Until Angelique. My stomach gurgles though it’s empty, a reminder that I’m missing something important.

Someone important.

The taste of peaches and sugar. The smell of vanilla.

My ears buzz. I cup my mouth.

How could I forget?

Iz.

I straighten with a gasp, my breath sour. What happened to her? Why hasn’t she been with us?

I’m about to turn for the door, find Iz, when Bella Marie intercepts the exit. She’s muddy with clumps of blood. Her arms stretch outward as she wraps me in a foul hug, suffocating my nose in the crook of her shoulder. I can’t breathe. I try to tell her that, I can’t breathe , but my sounds are muffled against her clothing and skin.

“Oh, darling,” she coos, “do you need an IV drip? It’s a must when I purge.”

I push her away. “What? No, I—”

“It’s okay, Julie, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“No, it’s not that, I’m worried about—” I can’t bring myself to say Iz. Her name is caught in my throat. “About Angelique.”

Bella Marie exhales, rubbing my back. “You are so kind, so considerate. But don’t worry. Angelique is fine, I can feel it in my heart. Go to sleep, my sweet, and tomorrow you will wake up better.”

She pets my head like a child, soft and loving. For a moment, I almost let myself walk into the mist of golden happiness, elusive and tender. But then I remember Iz. I need to keep her at the front of my brain. We haven’t heard from her all day, and no one has brought her up. There’s no way she wouldn’t talk to me if she was planning to leave early. Something is very, very wrong.

But for now, I say, “Okay,” and let Bella Marie hold my hand and guide me to bed, allow myself to be buried in the pile of ribs and legs again.

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