Chapter 58 Well, That Changes Everything
WELL, THAT CHANGES EVERYTHING
Iflinch as I remove this final stitch from the wound at the bottom edge of my ribs. I’m glad I am nearly done with this now. Just one more wound to go.
I take a minute to compose myself. Looking in the mirror, I see a tendril of my pink hair stuck to my forehead by perspiration.
There are still dark circles under my mismatched eyes, but my nose is mostly healed.
A mix of scars and still-healing wounds covers my entire torso.
Because of the fortnight that has passed, even the freshest wounds have healed considerably.
I’ve had to re-tape my fingers as they aren’t healed yet, but they are feeling better.
Time and demon healing magic have done wonders, and I’ve been feeling more and more physically capable again.
Taking another breath, I steel myself and begin on the last wound.
As a distraction from this unpleasant task, I focus on how well things have been going with the boys.
The atmosphere of the house changed completely once they successfully released their album.
They have also been telling me how much progress they’ve made with their magic work.
I am honestly not seeing much of them at this point.
Since they have nightly commitments with Chiron, they’ve been rehearsing their music during the day.
It means I’ve been on my own for research, which is lonely.
It also feels slower, but based on what they have told me, it sounds as though the information I’ve been giving them has still been helping.
Dio still isn’t speaking to me, but because I barely see him, things between us haven’t felt as tense.
Other than the incident where he showed up with a black eye and bloody knuckles, he seems to be recovering from whatever was bothering him before.
His clothes aren’t hanging on him like they were, and the dark circles under his eyes are mostly gone.
Knowing now what addiction means, when I got released and saw Dio looking so unkempt, I thought perhaps my gut reaction was right.
Perhaps Dio thought he was seeing something in me that had plagued him and had begun to struggle again.
Now, though, as he has begun to look better, it seems unlikely.
It must have been my imagination. Or maybe I was grasping for something to hurt him similarly to how he’d hurt me.
With research, sword practice, and the pain I am still in, I’ve had plenty of distractions, and yet there is still far too much time available for me to obsess.
I have made, and then promptly not acted on, so many plans regarding my relationship with Dio.
Finally, deciding the intense swirl of emotions was too much to deal with all at once, I made a different plan.
I am going to talk with him and see if we can manage an easy relationship.
I would like to at least feel as though I can consider him a friend.
I wish I could have that with Reem as well, but I have been a thorn in his side for too long. I know how much I have distracted from the band. Also, I don’t have much motivation to deal with that relationship until I have things figured out with Dio.
Suddenly, I am hit by the sound of wings in flight. I know what I’m going to see before I look up to the mirror, but I do so anyway. Malam is standing behind me, as I suspected, only this time his eyes are wide and fixed on me.
I had been trying to keep the evidence of my torture from him. Malam seeing what the angels did to his creation isn’t something I felt would help anyone. I have known he was aware there were wounds he couldn’t see, but I had hoped to keep the significance of them from him.
Nothing else for it now, I look down and focus on removing the next stitch as I say, “Hello Malam, what brings you here?” Silence hangs over the room as I continue with my task.
Just as I am about to ask again, he chokes out some sound, syllables that don’t make sense.
Without looking at him, I say, “Are you going to answer my question or are you going to make me kick you out of my room?”
Silence again fills the space. By the time he responds, I’m removing the last stitch, carefully controlling my breathing in an attempt not to further upset him.
“I came to share some information I’ve gathered,” he finally says. His guttural voice is so tight that I have to think for a minute to understand the words.
I stand and move to my wardrobe, still not looking at him, and pull on a shirt and leggings. I finish dressing and turn to face him again as I ask, “What did you find?”
Yet again, he’s staring at the wall behind me. I can tell he’s exerting a significant amount of control to stand there even this calmly. He eventually responds, “Rex was behind your time at the center.”
I blink at him, my world spinning. I turn the chair I was just sitting on and drop myself onto it. “What do you mean?” I ask.
“There’s a data trail which shows that the angels became aware of Dio committing you to the center,” he says.
His voice sounds particularly dark on Dio’s name, and I trap an unwelcome snarl in my throat before it can emerge.
“Even as you were in the carriage on the way to the treatment center, there were drugs ordered for you. A significant number and high dose of psychiatric medication were in your medical record before you even arrived. Most of those drugs would never be used to treat addiction.”
“They never intended to help me recover,” I say as I realize the impact of what he’s telling me.
“No,” says Malam. “In fact, I think you might still be there if I hadn’t removed you.”
“So my time at the angel stronghold was them remedying their loss of me from Piquory Center.”
“Likely yes,” Malam says. “If they had actually wanted to prosecute you for the death of one of their own, they could have more easily done that closer to when it occurred.”
“Thank you, Malam,” I say. My mind is spinning, and I want some time to think.
“There’s more,” he says. I note that his hands tighten into fists.
“You never harmed yourself.”
These words, along with so many others, hang over me, and something shifts. Some part of the map in my head is being redrawn.
Even as I think of it, I hear Malam speaking.
“An angel showed up at the treatment center, likely to confirm your status for the others. Even though you were nearly catatonic, you recognized what he was and attacked him, knocking him down and breaking a table in the process. Then he stabbed you with a knife. Thankfully, a steel knife and not an Angelforged blade, or I’m sure you wouldn’t have survived. ”
The room closes in further, and there is a ringing in my ears. A blurry memory of a blade being pulled from my abdomen and bright green eyes looking into mine plays in my mind’s eye.
“In the video, I saw him hide the blade quickly on his person. He then made it look as though he had been trying to restrain you as you stabbed at yourself with a shard from the table. The humans weren’t even to blame for that. I think they really did believe you harmed yourself.”
So did I, I think to myself, but don’t say it.
“If they reacted so quickly to me being sent there, they must be watching me closely,” I say after a moment.
I see surprise pass quickly over Malam’s face before he says, “Whatever the angels are doing, or did, if Dio had not sent you to treatment without your consent, none of this would have happened.”
Again, the tone of his voice as he says Dio’s name makes rage swirl in me, and I carefully school my expression. “Do you think I’m endangering the boys by being here?”
“I think you are all in danger either way, and since you’re capable of defending yourself and others, they are lucky to have you,” he snarls.
I nod, still considering. “The boys will be happy to have you back,” I say.
His whole body tenses as he looks away. “I’m not coming back,” he growls.
“What do you mean?”
“I refuse to spend any more time in the same house as that man,” he spits.
Unbidden, my fingers clench into fists, and rage pushes at me.
I swallow it down, shoving it away. Whatever else I’m feeling, this isn’t my fight.
After another quiet, tense moment where I consider asking Malam to reconsider, I decide to drop it.
Something tells me this isn’t the time. Instead, I ask, “Do you have anything else for me?”
He blinks as though he is surprised at the question and then stares at me and says, “No.”
Just as I’m thinking I may have to ask him to leave, he takes a step forward and holds his hand out, his mouth slightly open as though he wants to say something.
As I watch, he drops his hand to his side as he says, “No matter how I feel about the other people living here, I will always show up when you need me.”
As the shadow begins to coalesce in the room, I say quietly, “Thank you, Malam.”
Then he is gone. For a moment, I stay where I’m sitting, again trying to unpick the knot of emotions in my chest. Before I can get far, I’m filled with annoyance at myself. I have a plan, and it’s only cowardice that is keeping me from following it. With that thought, I rise and go to find Dio.