Fae
Everything feels wrong.
It’s not loud or sharp. It doesn’t even feel real.
I just feel like I’ve been dropped somewhere deep and dark where sound can’t travel properly, where everything moves slower than it should, where the world above me exists but I can’t quite reach it.
The church stretches out around me in warped shapes and broken light.
The colours are dulled and the edges are blurred, like I’m seeing through water that keeps shifting.
Still, I don’t dare move.
I can’t.
If I move, then she’ll not be in my arms anymore.
If I hold on just a little longer, it will be okay.
I can feel it. Her weight is still there, pressed against me.
It feels heavier now, wrong in a way I don’t understand.
My hands are locked around her because I am terrified that if I loosen my grip even slightly, she will slip through my grasp and disappear completely.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper, though I don’t know if the words leave my mouth properly. “It’s okay, I’ve got you… hold on.”
My fingers press harder against her, clinging to something that isn’t changing anymore.
The blood stopped a while ago and I take that as proof that I have done a good job.
Whatever I am doing is working. When it first seeped through my hands, it was warm and runny but now it has gone cold and tacky where it clings to my skin.
“You’re okay,” I mumble, “I’m right here… I’m not going anywhere.”
It’s not just her blood that is cold, but her body is starting to become cold too.
I grit my teeth and shake my head as I try to dispel that thought.
No. No, that is not possible. I’m doing a good job; I am helping to stop the blood.
I know I am. My body curls around her. Body temperature warms people up, right?
Yes. That’s what she needs. It’s cold in this church. My stomach twists violently.
It is so cold in this church.
“Tink…” a voice says. “You need to let go.”
Let go?
That doesn’t make sense.
I shake my head slowly as my arms tighten around her and I pull her closer to me, ignoring the confusion flickering through the haze.
“No,” I murmur. “No, I’ve got her.”
“She’s—”
“No,” I repeat, firmer this time, even though my voice still sounds distant to my own ears. “She’s cold. She needs… I just need to…”
Distantly, I realise that her blood is everywhere. On my hands, my clothes, my arms, and it smells thick and metallic. Every breath I take fills my lungs with it, making it harder to think, harder to focus, harder to do what I need to do.
I swallow hard.
“I can stop it,” I whisper, even though my whole body is shaking. “I can stop it, I just—”
Hands touch me. They are firm and warm and don’t belong in the water. I flinch at the movement, my body tensing whilst something grips my shoulder and tries to pull me back. They continue to try and move me away from her, and panic spikes instantly in my chest.
“No!” I gasp, tightening my hold and curling further over her. “Don’t—don’t touch her!”
“Tink, listen to me.”
I shake my head harder as my breathing breaks apart and the pressure continues to build in my chest.
“They’re going to help you,” the low voice says in a controlled way that doesn’t match what is happening. “You need to let go.”
Let go?
Why would I let go?
Why do they KEEP asking me to let go?
I will never let go. If I let go, she’ll…
“No,” I say, more desperately this time. “No, she can’t… she can’t be on her own, she doesn’t—” My voice cracks apart. “She doesn’t like being alone in the church. She told me… she’ll… she’ll be scared. Don’t let her get scared, please—”
“She’s not—” the voice breaks, and they stop speaking again.
The silence feels peaceful until the broken voice speaks once more.
“Tinkerbell… please.”
It sounds like the voice is crying, but why would the voice cry?
Everything is fine.
I stopped the bleeding.
I saved her.
More hands grab at me, and they are stronger this time. They don’t hesitate. They clearly don’t understand. They can’t feel what I feel. The hands start pulling me away, prying at my arms, forcing space between me and Fi, and panic explodes through me as I thrash against them.
“No!” I scream, and the sound tears out of me as my fingers slip against her, finally losing their hold. “No, stop! Stop! I need to hold her! She’s bleeding—”
“She’s gone,” someone says in a soft but clinical voice that fractures something inside me violently.
“No,” I choke, shaking my head hard as tears blur everything else around me. The water starts turning thicker and heavier. It feels impossible to see through.
“No, she’s not. She’s—she’s right here—”
The hands pull harder.
And mine lose her completely.
“No!” I scream, reaching for her again. My fingers grasp at the air, at nothing, at the space where she was just seconds ago. “Give her back to me! Please! Please!”
My body fights them, but it’s useless. There are too many hands, too much strength dragging me back, away from her, away from the only thing keeping me anchored to anything real.
“She needs to be checked. She went down at some point,” another voice says. “She’s pregnant—”
Pregnant.
The word cuts through the fog and I gasp.
My hand flies to my stomach and my breath catches violently as even more fear crashes in all at once, replacing the numbness, the water, the distance.
The baby.
“I…” My voice shakes as my eyes drop to my stomach and panic twists through me. “I didn’t… I didn’t protect…”
Guilt slams into me so hard I collapse into the arms of whoever is holding me. It’s heavy and suffocating. This is my fault. I let us go here. I let him disarm me. I lied to Roman.
“Fae.”
Roman.
His hands come up to my face, forcing me to look at him, and this time I do. His beautiful brown eyes, that are usually so full of love for me, look completely broken and haunted. A pain lances through my chest because I’ve never seen him like that.
Is the baby okay? Is Fiona okay?
“You’re okay,” he says, even though his voice isn’t steady. “Do you hear me? You’re okay.”
I shake my head immediately, tears spilling freely down my face. “No… no, I’m not, I—”
“You are,” he says, firmer this time. “And the baby is going to be okay. Let them check you. Mum wants the baby to be okay…”
I nod.
I can do that.
For a moment, I feel calm. Then I realise they are pulling me away, further and further away from Fiona, so I try to turn to go back to her, but they lower me down onto something. A voice moves around me as the world slowly drags me back toward the surface.
I don’t want to be at the surface.
If I am, how can I get back to her? My eyes look past the person standing in front of me to a body on the floor. Blood is all around them as Roman stands on his haunches, stroking her face. She’s not alone. Okay, that’s good.
She’s not alone.
But I’m still drowning.