Chapter 11 The Bracelet’s Weight
The water was too hot, but I couldn’t make myself turn it down.
I stood under the spray, scrubbing at my neck where I could still feel the rough hemp of the rope biting into skin, the weight of my body dropping, the crack. My fingers worked frantically, trying to wash away the phantom pressure, but it clung like a stain I couldn’t see.
Salem. The gallows. The crowd.
Their faces twisted with righteous fury, screaming accusations I couldn’t hear over the roar of blood in my ears.
And through it all, that shadow-figure at the edge—hood pulled low, not jeering like the others.
Just watching. His presence was heavy with something that felt like grief and shame, like he’d failed me in some fundamental way.
The water pressure felt like hands around my throat. Like the rope tightening. I gasped and stepped back, heart hammering.
Just a dream. It was just a dream.
But it didn’t feel like a dream. It felt like a memory bleeding through from someone else’s life. Someone who’d died screaming, calling out to a shadow who couldn’t save her.
I adjusted the towel around my waist, and my gaze caught on the tattoo at my hip.
My fingers drifted to it without thinking, tracing the curve of narcissus and pomegranate petals, the twist of the key’s shaft.
Something about it pulled at me even when I’d chosen them on a whim in my sophomore year because they were pretty.
The narcissus felt heavier under my touch than it should. The pomegranate blossoms felt warmer.
I wiped the steam from the mirror with a shaking hand.
My reflection stared back—pale, wide-eyed, water streaming down my face.
For just a second, I could have sworn the eyes looking back weren’t mine.
That the face in the glass belonged to someone else entirely, someone who’d worn a noose and died with a prayer on her lips.
I blinked, and it was just me again.
A knock on the door made me jump.
“Mel? You okay in there?” Luz’s voice, warm and familiar, cut through the lingering dread.
I turned off the shower with trembling hands. “Yeah. Sorry. I’m done.”
I wrapped a towel around myself and opened the door. Luz stood in the hallway, already dressed, her hair twisted into neat braids. She took one look at my face and frowned.
“More dreams?”
I forced a smile, trying to ground myself in the present. In the dorm with its string lights and scattered textbooks. In the body that was mine, that was alive, that wasn’t dying. “None that I’d care to remember.”
She studied me, debating whether to push. Then she sighed and stood.
“I’m going to check on Amy before class,” she said. “Probably stop at the café on the way. Want your usual?”
“You know me so well.”
“Of course I do, hermana.” She grabbed her bag and paused at the door. “You sure you’re good? We can talk about it if you want.”
I forced a smile. “I’m good, I promise.”
She didn’t look convinced. “See you in class.”
After she left, I sat in the quiet dorm room, remembering the weight of the shadow’s gaze on me as I died.
I got to Kian’s class early, hoping to distract myself by reviewing notes. The room was nearly empty, just a handful of students drifting in.
A girl from the front row was mumbling into her phone, something about too many classes and not enough rest. When she pulled her hand away to rub at her face, I spotted a bracelet, identical to Amy’s.
Two seats over, a guy I recognized from the library had his head down on the desk before class had even started, breathing shallow and heavy. Same bracelet circled his wrist.
Another student stumbled in, nearly missing her chair, moving as though her body was on a five-second delay from her brain. She sat down heavily, eyes glazed over in the same exhaustion. Same as the others, the same bracelet peeking from under her sleeve.
My stomach sank.
Xavier slouched in near the back, mirroring the same weariness as the others.
Bloodshot eyes ringed with shadows, his skin clammy with sweat despite the morning chill.
A faint tremor in his hands that he tried to hide by gripping the edge of his desk.
But unlike Amy’s hollow fatigue, Xavier was wired like something was humming under his skin.
Students shuffled in behind me, filling the seats. Luz slid in beside me, Amy trailing behind her, looking even worse than yesterday. Her face was flushed, her movements slow and careful, as if even walking hurt.
“You okay?” I whispered.
Amy offered a wan smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Just tired.”
But the longer I looked at her, the less I believed it. The bruises under her eyes had deepened, and her lips were pale. She was beginning to look like Aunt Reenie before she passed away.
The thought made me sick.
Kian entered, set his things aside, and took a moment to take in the class. I watched as his mouth formed a tight line, taking in the students who looked worse for wear. His eyes caught mine, and my heart skipped a beat.
He began the lecture, but I found it hard to focus. My gaze kept drifting to the bracelets circling wrists around the room—Amy’s, the girl in front, the guy slumped over his desk. All identical. All worn by people who looked like they were fading.
Xavier shifted in his seat, and I noticed him rubbing his temples like his head was splitting. He looked almost as exhausted as Amy, with dark circles under his eyes.
The scrape of chairs and shuffle of bags filled the room as class wrapped up. Kian dismissed us with his usual clipped, “See you Monday,” and students began trickling out.
I slid my notebook into my bag, gathering my things with Luz and Amy.
“Did you notice how many people looked sick today?” I whispered.
Luz nodded, her expression grim. “Yeah, there’s definitely something going around. Half the class looked like death.”
“Even Xavier,” I added. “He looked rough. Which is weird—I’ve never seen him look anything but smug.”
Luz snorted. “Maybe he’ll develop a conscience while he’s feverish.”
I snorted at that as we made our way out of the room. As we passed Kian’s desk, our eyes met briefly. He offered a professional smile that made my cheeks warm. I turned and hurried after Luz and Amy.
We’d barely made it halfway down the hall when Amy’s steps faltered and her knees buckled.
Luz caught her before she hit the ground. “Whoa, hey!”
Amy’s eyes rolled back for just a second, just one terrifying second where I thought she was going to pass out. Then she blinked hard and focused.
“Just dizzy,” she mumbled. “I’m fine.”
“Come on,” I said, unconvinced. “Let’s get you sitting down.”
We guided her to a cluster of lounge chairs tucked in the corner of the commons. Amy sank into one like her bones had turned to mush, head dropping into her hands.
“I’ll get water,” Luz said, already heading toward the vending machine.
I knelt beside Amy’s chair, studying her. Her face had taken on a sickly pallor, and her hands were shaking, her pupils dilated.
“Is this the supplement they’re giving you?” I asked.
Her lips pressed tight before she gave a small shrug. “They said fatigue is normal for the first couple of weeks.”
“That doesn’t look normal,” I shot back. “Amy, you need to quit this study.”
Luz returned with water and trail mix, pressing both into Amy’s hands. “Mel’s right. You’re collapsing in hallways.”
Amy drank obediently and ate a handful of trail mix.
“I signed a contract,” she murmured, like she was reciting something she’d been told. “I can’t just drop out.”
“Yes, you can,” Luz said, voice rising. “Contracts don’t mean shit if they’re killing you.”
“They’re not killing me.” Amy touched the bracelet absently. “It’s just an adjustment period. They’re expecting me tomorrow morning for another appointment. They’ll check on me.”
The words clanged around in my head like alarm bells. The way she said it, so resigned and compliant, made my stomach twist.
“Amy, listen to yourself,” I said, gripping her knee. “You sound like you’re reading from a script.”
She blinked at me, confused. “I’m fine, Mel. Really.”
But she wasn’t, and the worst part was, she didn’t seem to care.
“Let me see the flyer,” I said. “I want to do some digging. Find out who these people really are.”
Amy hesitated but pulled the folded paper from her bag and slid it across to me.
I tucked it into my bag, resolve settling in my gut.
I’ll get to the bottom of this, I swore to myself.
Amy’s color mostly returned as she’d finished the water. Conversation shifted to lighter things, like we all needed the reprieve.
“So what’s everyone working on this semester?” I asked, trying to steer us toward normal. Amy perked up.
“Women’s rights legislation. Focusing on policy protections for LGBTQIA+ communities.” Her voice grew stronger as she talked, as if this were the fuel that kept her going. “If I can land a decent fellowship after this, maybe law school. I don’t want May to have to fight for everything alone.”
Her voice cracked just enough that I knew it wasn’t just about May. It was about her, too.
Luz reached over and squeezed her hand. “You’ll do it. You’re the most stubborn person I know.”
Amy laughed. “That’s not true. You’re worse.”
“Maybe,” Luz said with a grin. “But I’m almost done. Just two classes left before I can officially hang up my BA and say I survived.”
“How is May anyway?” I asked, knowing that talking about her twin would perk her right up.
“Good. Her physical therapy courses are going well. She’s working as a personal trainer now.” Amy smiled, genuine warmth breaking through the exhaustion. “She’s basically become ‘Muscle Mommy’ incarnate.”
Luz snorted. “Not even remotely surprising.”
I watched Luz’s thumb trace circles over Amy’s knuckles, the same way she’d done a thousand times before in our childhood. Amy leaned into it without looking, her shoulders dropping half an inch.
We’d grown up on the same cracked sidewalks. We knew each other’s silences.