Chapter 17 #2
“Should I tell the others?” Apple asked, and I blinked in surprise at her hand resting on his arm without fear.
“Yeah, peanut. Go tell ’em.” He smiled.
“I’ll be back, Bones,” she promised as she bounded to the door.
Griz pulled up a chair to the side of my mattress and—Wait. A chair? How was he eye level with me? I reached over the edge. Normally I’d immediately touch the floor, but now my fingers touched only air.
“We made you a bed frame with some cinder blocks,” Griz said, noticing my hand. “Makes it a lot easier to take care of your back when you’re up a little higher.”
Something clenched in my chest, but I wasn’t sure whether it was gratitude for the gift or guilt that they were taking care of me.
“You got lots of visitors,” Griz added. “Seems most people are takin’ your side.”
Anxiety swirled in my stomach. “Side?”
“They think Madame was wrong,” he said, his eyes studying me.
My heart started beating faster, clearing the cobwebs in my head a little.
“They think she needs to be stopped.”
“Don’t tell me that,” I whispered.
“I’m only repeatin’ what they said.”
“I can’t…I can’t know. I don’t…Madame will—” I broke off, my lips trembling. Didn’t they know they’d end up in that fucking chair in Madame’s dungeon if they said shit like that? And then Madame would force me to help her torture them and I couldn’t—
Griz covered my shaking hand with his steady one. “Alright. I won’t tell you.” He still sounded calm, but something like disappointment flashed across his face.
I wanted to beg him to tell people to keep their fucking heads down, but the words caught in my throat.
Don’t get involved, Wolf growled. Get out of there.
—
After a few days, it became clear I was involved no matter how I felt about it.
People kept dropping by the clinic, bringing little gifts or food.
They would whisper to me or Mac’s crew that Madame needed to be stopped, that she’d gone too far.
Everyone seemed to share knowing glances and nods with hope flickering in their eyes, and my chest went tight.
I’d seen how hope like that ended. Rebellions meant bodies.
A wildfire could take off from a single spark, and I was helplessly watching it happen. It was bad enough being on the outskirts of this rebellion, but now it felt like I was the face of it.
And when Madame came down on them—and she would—everyone would burn.
The terror was so thick, I could taste it.
The wounds on my back healed, pulling tight as the muscles tried to knit themselves back together. I would have horrible scars, Madame’s mark as she promised, but I tried not to dwell on that.
“I think you’re healing faster than most people,” Griz said one day as he changed the dressing on my back. “Do you always heal fast?”
It sure as hell didn’t feel fast. “I dunno for sure. I don’t get sick.”
“What about injuries?”
I tried to think back to my major injuries.
When I broke my arm the first time, it had healed pretty quickly, but I figured my young age played into that.
I’d had cuts I had to stitch closed myself, but I hadn’t paid much attention to how fast they’d healed.
I’d always been able to get up and work after a beating, but I hadn’t had any other choice.
The brand on my chest had healed in a month.
The wound on my shoulder Trey had stitched up had healed quickly, and normally a giant head wound wouldn’t scab over by itself, but mine had.
“Maybe,” I admitted. “Why?”
“I’m wondering if maybe you do heal yourself. It’s just slower than when you heal other people. Maybe that’s why you reached burnout so fast when you healed Mist. ’Cause your powers have been workin’ nonstop trying to heal your back.”
I lay there thinking that over, uneasy for some reason. No, not uneasy—guilty. Not being able to heal myself seemed like balance for all the things I’d done. Every death stained my soul, and my own suffering felt like retribution.
Maybe if you stopped trying to be a godsdamn martyr, you’d see that.
I shoved those thoughts away. I hated how often Mac’s words floated through my mind. I hated how often they taunted me at night when I tried to sleep.
“You okay?” Griz asked.
I forced my muscles to relax, and the shrieking pain in my back dulled. “I’m fine.”
—
Another round of snowstorms swept through, burying everything once more.
I woke up one morning to find a new small table by my bed.
On it lay the little knife Trey had given me.
I’d assumed it’d been lost after I left it buried in Brimstone’s shoulder.
Warmth and sorrow flooded me. All my feelings for Trey were still there, like an entire fucking garden of dreams I could see but not touch.
I would have to find a way to live with them.
You’re a river. You don’t break, you bend.
Trey stayed away, and though I needed him to do that, it still hurt.
I kept looking for him by the door, kept thinking about the kiss we’d shared, kept missing him.
I tried to withdraw from the others, but it was harder to push Raven and Griz away since they’d moved in, and I relied on them so much simply to move and perform basic tasks.
Mostly I got quieter and quieter, curled up in my quilt.
Griz and Raven continued to try and include me in conversation, Griz looking worried and Raven looking angry.
I hated the hurt in their eyes, and I hated how much I hated it.
I didn’t understand why it was so hard to push them all away.
Surely I hadn’t dropped my guard that much?
I warned you. Wolf was a constant presence in my head these days.
Get better. Get out. I reminded myself daily. Before the Shadow comes for them. Or Madame does.
—
“Boney, someone’s here to see you.” Raven pushed the door open.
I turned stiffly, avoiding using most of my back muscles, to see Clarity walk in. My heart dropped at how pale and thin and ill she looked. I hadn’t seen her since I healed her from the sickness. I moved across the room, guilt choking me that I hadn’t checked up on her.
“I’m okay,” she said, like she could read my frantic thoughts. “I’m not sick. I wanted to visit you.”
Glaring suspiciously, I tried to take her arm and let my magic check for itself, but she shifted away like she didn’t want me to touch her. I pulled back. I knew we weren’t exactly friends, but she’d let me heal her before.
“I promise,” she said. “I’m not sick.”
“You look like shit,” I said, perhaps more harshly than necessary.
To my surprise she smiled slightly, glancing at Raven. “I think you’ve been spending too much time with Ray.”
Raven snorted, but the affection softening her entire face made me pause. I’d never seen Raven look at anyone like that.
“Ray?” I couldn’t help asking.
Raven’s icy blue eyes snapped to mine. “Only Clarity gets to call me that. Anyone else tries and they end up bleeding.”
“How are you feeling?” Clarity asked.
“I’ll be fine,” I said.
Her cheekbones stood out from her thin face, and her normally warm brown skin looked like a dull ashy grey. Even her eyes looked sunken.
“Why do you—”
“How come you’re not talking to Trey?” she interrupted me, a gleam of determination lighting in her hollow eyes.
I willed my face to be blank. “Clarity—”
“Don’t bother, Clare,” Raven said, glaring at me. “She’s a stubborn bitch.”
I narrowed my eyes at Raven, my temper rising. Whatever goodwill we’d managed to achieve after my whipping had been slowly evaporating as the days went by.
“I’m allowed to have my own personal business.”
“Bones, he cares about you so much.”
Clarity’s quiet, pained voice speared me through the heart. I turned away and went back to disinfecting medical tools.
“Told you,” Raven muttered, and I had to grit my teeth to keep from snapping at her.
“He told me about the narc.” Clarity sounded like she’d moved a few steps closer. “Maybe if you…explain what happens—”
“I don’t owe any of you an explanation,” I interrupted.
“No, but we’re friends.” Clarity stood at my elbow. I refused to look at her. “Friends talk to each other when they’re hurting.”
I felt more like a deadly virus than a friend. I knew getting close to people got them killed, but I couldn’t seem to stop fucking doing it. I blinked furiously, trying to keep the tears at bay. If I could—
Clarity laid her hand on my arm, and my healing magic jolted. I couldn’t help but gasp, and Clarity jerked her hand back as though I’d burned her. We stared at each other, then she turned and fled out of the clinic.
“The fuck did you do?” Raven snarled, darting after Clarity before I could answer.
Not that I had an answer to give her. I rubbed my arm, trying to erase the sensation of spiders crawling across my skin. I had no idea what had just happened, but my magic had never done anything like that before.
—
Three weeks after my whipping, I stumbled on a plan to escape.
I started going for walks as soon as I could, forcing myself to go longer every day as I tried to get my strength up.
On one of those morning walks, I noticed the loggers removing the wheels from the hauling wagons and replacing them with long skids to go over the snow.
Through eavesdropping, I learned that they planned to leave at dawn.
The sickness had used up more of the hold’s supply of lumber than expected, so the loggers were being sent to gather more.
I watched them cover their tools in the sleighs with heavy tarps to keep the snow off, creating a perfect place to hide.
I knew I couldn’t pass up this opportunity. My back still ached sharply, but the open wounds had closed, and it no longer required a bandage or dressing. It would only be pain, and I could push through pain.