Chapter VI. Dr. Erik Yurkov #5
“Let me go—” Ariadne clawed Erik’s hand, ungrasping his fingers, her feet thrashing in the air.
Don’t touch me, she thought, alarmed and unreasonable.
She would scratch if she had nails made of keratin, so she did what she could, biting his arm, elbowing his chest. Her feet didn’t even reach the floor, but she wanted to hurt him somehow. “Let me go, let me go!”
“Darling, darling, you shouldn’t see this kind of thing.
” Erik’s voice was gentle, but he continued to try to drag her back to the door.
In her head, all she could see was the yellow house, her feet hitting the stairs as Minotauro pulled her by the neck, one, two, three, four, scattering bruises on her old skin.
Ariadne sank her teeth into his hand, trying to show that she wanted to decide for herself if she could take it or not, hoping to rip the soft flesh. Erik let out a groan.
“Let her go.”
They stopped moving. This time, the voice belonged to Quaint, and there was no difference between the way he spoke to the amputated man downstairs and the way he spoke to Erik.
Erik did not obey. He continued to cover her eyes, but the quick instant of recognition allowed her to slither out of his grasp to run to Quaint.
“Hello, old friend.” Erik smiled behind an uncharacteristic stubble.
Then he walked to the body and covered the stretcher with a sheet.
“I knew you would come, but you shouldn’t have brought her with you, no matter how persuasive she can be.
And Ariadne, my good, good girl—it’s not healthy for you to see this kind of thing. ”
This kind of thing. The words echoed in her mind.
That kind of thing, like the children in the surgery room; that kind of thing, her own limbs, or what was left of them; that kind of thing, waking up and finding there was nothing of Erik left.
Ariadne blew out the air she was holding, feeling like Quaint’s anger was contagious, or maybe it had been her anger all along, hidden in a little box inside her year after year, coming undone.
“What wasn’t good for me was being left behind!
Asking the neighbors if they saw you, and being told you left through the front door with suitcases under your arms. That was not good for me!
” Ariadne knew she was yelling, and her cheeks burned with shame.
She could only see Erik’s back while he petted the unconscious man’s head comfortingly.
“You even went back to the clinic to store your damn journals—you went back without telling me—and you did this, all of this, you…”
Erik took off his gloves. His lab coat was dirty, his hair more silver than blond, his mouth dry and split.
“You’re right. I’m deeply sorry for all the harm I caused.” He smiled in that way that Ariadne remembered, generous and sweet, scratching his own nape like he’d gotten caught stealing from the cookie jar. “I never learn, do I?”
“You’re shameless, that’s what you are.” Quaint ground his teeth, and a guttural sound came from his throat. “Everyone else is just a pawn to you.”
“I suppose I should apologize to you as well,” admitted Erik with a thoughtful tone. “I always involve you in my mess, don’t I?”
Quaint roared, and in a second he was in front of Erik, seizing him by the throat.
“You promised me you would never do it again. I trusted you.”
“Quaint!” Ariadne ran to hug Quaint from behind. “Please, calm down, please, I beg—”
“I can’t calm down,” muttered Quaint, squeezing Erik’s neck. Ariadne tightened the hug, her cheek against his spine and her hands pulling down his arms to make him stop hurting Erik. “He caused all of this.”
“I know I betrayed your trust in the past.” Erik attempted to touch his shoulder. “I know I had no right, but I swear…”
Quaint would have growled again, but he stopped when he saw Ariadne’s hands had fallen from their grasp, weakened by the effort.
He turned around to face her, and all his fury dissipated when he realized she was scared, lonely, trembling.
Both men were quiet for a few moments, and Quaint looked down, a lock of hair falling on his forehead.
He held her two bionic hands as if her fingers could break if they were not touched with the utmost care.
Thank you, he mouthed, his voice barely a whisper. I’m calmer now.
“Quaint, he didn’t have a choice.” Genebra leaned against the wall and stumbled as she walked. “They kept us here to force us to do it. It didn’t work. The president will die at any moment.”
“Both of you can give as many excuses as you like. Nothing will change the fact that he started this to have a few extra years of life to keep studying.” Quaint’s laughter was sharp and mirthless, almost a bark.
“None of us would be here right now if Erik had done the right thing in the past. Do you regret it, at least?”
Erik glanced at the man under the sheet.
“I regret this situation. I regret having used you for my research. I was cruel, angry, and unfair when I did that to you, and I should have asked before deciding on my own.” He paused briefly, then looked at Ariadne, pressing his lips in a weak smile.
That smile, the smile he showed exclusively to her.
“I don’t regret what I accomplished with the borrowed decades. ”
Ariadne stepped forward and offered her numbed hand to Erik.
“Erik, we need to leave.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” said Erik. “The squad will come back in the morning to make sure we’re still here.”
“The guls won’t let them near you anymore. You can come back.”
Erik touched her face, the tips of his calloused fingers drawing circles on her cheek.
“You grew up.”
“Time passes for everyone.” Ariadne pulled him by the arm, avoiding his gaze. “Let’s go home.”
Quaint helped Genebra down the stairs, Erik took their belongings to the first floor, and Ariadne found herself alone in the empty corridor.
When she lifted her face, Rafaela was there, illuminated by one of the fluorescent lights.
Her bare feet were soiled with mud, her long curls covered her long face, and she had dark red stains on her light clothes.
“It all comes to an end,” Rafaela said in a singsong voice, but the feral intonation of her roar still crept into her words. “After this, we’re free from this part of the deal.”
“I guess we are.” Ariadne covered her nose with her hand. The stench of death was growing stronger, and she looked the other way.
“I can smell the blood for miles, you know,” said Rafaela. Her smile looked like a snarl as she walked past Ariadne, bumping against her numb arm. “Wait for me in the car.”