34. MAUVE
THIRTY-FOUR
MAUVE
Two days have passed since I heard the sound of her voice. Two days of sitting next to the hospital bed, wondering if I’ll ever get to see her smile again. She hasn’t woken up. The doctors tell me it’s a waiting game and that fate is in God’s hands now. What the fuck do they know about God?
Leaning forward, I tuck a loose strand of Verena’s long obsidian hair behind her ear.
The hours that I’ve spent sitting in this spot, holding her hand and staring at her unmoving face for any kind of change is sad to say the least. She would tell me to go home, take a shower, and maybe gargle some mouthwash or something.
But I can’t bear the thought of leaving her side.
She’s lucky to be alive at all. Reed’s blade missed her heart by a fraction of an inch. Verena was rushed into surgery upon arrival in an emergency to repair damaged blood vessels. If she doesn’t pull through, she will quite literally have died from a broken heart.
I ascend the front steps of the Gravenhurst Manor by two, trying to shake the unease that’s been building ever since Verena failed to appear for our four o’clock lecture.
I noticed a few other faces missing from the class, too.
The last conversation between Verena and I didn’t go so well, and I fear she thinks I’m a terrible friend.
Maybe, in a way, I am. But what she doesn’t know is that I’ve been following her for months and know a lot more secrets than she might suspect.
After everything I’ve witnessed so far, I’d be stupid not to follow my intuition.
My brows furrow as I push open the front door, confused as to why it was left ajar.
“Verena?” I call out, but I’m met with silence.
I step inside, shutting the door behind me, and it immediately snuffs out the sound of the rain that has just begun to pour.
The manor is quieter than usual, and something dark and uneasy clings to the air, sending a shiver through me.
Loud stomps sound from the upper level, and I regard a dishevelled Archie storming down the steps, buttoning his jacket as high as it’ll go.
“Arch?” I whisper under my breath, and his head whips upward, seemingly on edge.
His face is stern, unlike his usual joyful expression when he sees me.
Deep grooves of worry are carved between his brows, and to see Archie—kind, soft, thoughtful Archie—in this much distress, must mean something is terribly, terribly wrong.
“What’s going on?” I ask, though I fear the answer.
“Go home, Miss Mauve,” is all he says, avoiding eye contact and opening the front door.
The wind blows and whistles violently beyond it, having picked up since I entered the home only moments ago. He’s about to step out when my anxiety spikes.
“I think Verena is in trouble. There’s something called the society, Arch, and I think she’s a part of it.
I’m worried for her. If this has anything to do with her, please let me help,” I spit out nervously.
It’s the first time I’ve admitted it out loud since I brutally discovered it.
I flinch, remembering Reed’s fist plummeting into another student until he was nothing but a limp sack of flesh after following Verena into the basement of the academy.
Archie goes rigid and spins back towards me.
He bends slightly so we’re face to face, and when a breeze blows past us, his grey hair ruffles to the side.
“There are a lot of secrets this town keeps, Miss Mauve. I promised Mr. Gravenhurst on his deathbed that I’d do everything I could to protect her, and I don’t intend to break that promise.”
“So you know then,” I question, searching his eyes, “about the society.”
“Yes, Miss Mauve. No secret is kept from me. I know everything that happens within and outside of this estate. Now, run along. It’s not safe here for you,” he orders and rushes down the stairs towards the garden without another word.
I stand in the doorway, staring out into the rain long after Archie disappears beyond the garden entrance.
There are two types of people in this world—the ones who sit back and watch when their friends are in need, and the ones who step in, even when they’re afraid.
All my life, I’ve been an outcast. The quiet, overlooked girl cowering behind the kind of people who think a last name makes them untouchable. I’m done being afraid.
Rain pours from the sky, but my boots sink into the wet grass and remain frozen as I finally make it to the graveyard.
My pulse thumps heavily in my ears as I spot a group of cloaked figures in the distance, and Archie running towards them.
Everything happens quickly. My legs weaken, as if made of Jell-O, as I catch the glint of a dagger before it’s plunged into Verena’s chest. Time slips, my chest aches as if it had been sunk into my own heart, and I think I scream, but I can’t hear anything over the ringing in my ears.
I take a step forward, just as the dagger is ripped from her chest. The cloaked figure raises their hand to strike again, and that’s when my world shatters.
Archie jumps in front of Verena. Her body falls limp between the irises, and as if in slow motion, the knife slides into Archie's flesh.
“No!” Is all I can manage to say as I watch his body fall limp to the ground.
A few of the members glance in my direction before they all take off in a sprint towards the forest.
Archie’s breathing is shallow. The inhales and exhales are far and few between as the delicate moments of his life quickly pass him by.
I sit by his bed, waiting for him to wake from his nap, hoping and praying that when he does, he’ll feel a little bit better than he did before.
But my heart knows the brutal truth. He lost so much blood, and his body refuses to heal from the infection that has spread deep within his flesh.
When we first arrived at the hospital, Archie was heavily confused from when his head hit the ground.
It took him days to figure out where we were and what had happened.
Temporary amnesia from the harsh impact, the doctors had said.
He had continued to slip in and out of a conscious state, and there were a couple of times that they thought he wouldn’t wake up at all.
I travel between his room and Verena’s, keeping a close eye on the two.
These two remarkable humans have become a family to each other and, in an odd way, have become family to me.
Archie’s eyes flutter open, and I let loose a sigh of relief. “Hey, Arch.” His head slowly lulls in my direction.
“How lovely to see you, Miss Mauve.” His smile is languid, but still infectious as always. His words are weak and just shy of a whisper, and it breaks my heart to see him straining and weak.
I reach out and take his hand. His delicate skin is cool to the touch.
“Now, now, Miss Mauve, don’t be stressing yourself over me.” His words are a struggle, and I can see from his expression it hurts him so.
“Don’t be silly, Arch. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” A forced chuckle leaves my lips. Archie stays silent. He lifts his hand from beneath mine and gently holds onto my wrist in an attempt to pull me forward like he has something he needs to say.
“You take care of her, Mauve. Promise me. You girls will need each other among the chaos that awaits.” He coughs, and the pain etched in his brow makes me wince.
“Trust no one but one another. You’ll be safer this way. Tell Miss Gravenhurst—tell Verena, I love her.” He wheezes, and the fear and sadness that lingers in his eyes cracks my heart in two. Archie’s eyes close, and his head lolls to the side. Panic races through my body, No…NO!
“Help! We need help in here!” I shout as I run to the door to find someone, anyone to save him.
His monitor flatlines, and a code blue signals over the intercom. Nurses and doctors speed down the hallways, flocking into the room one by one, and my heart drops into my stomach. I’m going to be sick.
“Miss, you need to stand back,” a nurse tells me, and I take several disoriented steps backward until I’m met with a wall.
“Starting compressions!” a nurse shouts, while another begins to push on his chest with a force so brutal it’s sure to crack a rib. A surgical resident gently stops the nurse from performing CPR, encouraging her to take a look at his charts before making any further movements.
My eyes are wild. “Why aren’t you doing anything! Save him!” I shout a sob, getting stuck in my throat.
“DNR protocol,” he says to the room, bowing his head in defeat.
“HELP HIM!” I scream, but it’s no use; the monitor flatlines as they stand around watching the life drain from his body. A nurse flicks each monitor off one by one.
“Time of death: 8:52 p.m.”
I slide to the floor, unable to comprehend what just happened.
The tears, they never stop flowing. He’s gone.
Archie is gone. How can I face my best friend knowing I’ll have to tell her that she’ll never get to see him again?
I tuck my head between my knees, the sounds of the hospital fading into the background.
That night plays in my mind on a loop, like a nightmare I can’t escape from.