Chapter 18
WELL-INTENDED PLANS ALWAYS BACKFIRE: A THEORY
One thing I know for a fact is that well-intended plans rarely work out. Well, that’s what I usually find. On Wednesday, my theory is proven correct.
It starts like any normal day; breakfast at the seated nook in the kitchen overlooking our crispy-looking garden, the cold having really done a number on it, struggling to hold on.
Each year, it manages to pull through, followed by an unsanctioned adventure outside.
Melek is on a call with the rest of the council, giving me strict instructions to stay inside with Sunny.
We have no intention of complying with them.
Melek should’ve learnt years ago that I enjoy breaking his rules. I really don’t understand why he bothers anymore.
And I need something to distract my mind after having waited day after day for Adam in a somewhat obsessive way.
Every thought wanders to our escape. How will he get us out of the house?
How will he get us beyond the checkpoints?
Will Sunny be upset? It also doesn’t improve my mood that I am heavily pregnant.
The one saving grace I hold onto is that this pregnancy is proving to be a breeze so far.
Barely any pain, besides from the slight discomfort from carrying a few extra pounds.
It is definitely giving me a false sense of security that leaving Halo is a possibility for us.
So, to break up my intense worry, my hands wrung to pieces and my bitten lips shredded, I decided that Sunny and I would benefit from a walk in our forest—without Melek’s blessing.
We are thoroughly rugged up before traversing into the backyard, a chill sweeping the air. The biting edges of it make me forget about Adam’s lack of communication.
Sunny is eager to check on his treehouse, a structure in the middle of our backyard forest that Melek had constructed a few years ago. We haven’t visited his boys-only house in a week, and he is starting to grow desperate.
I am usually made to wait down in the forest, Melek and Sunny being the only ones allowed inside. It has always given me time to study the unusual markings on the trees, so I’ve tried not to take it personally.
The groundskeepers keep the path through the thicket of trees well-maintained, fallen leaves brushed to the side as we often take this route on our morning walks. Just not as recently with my stalker—husband—barely allowing me to step foot outside in this weather and in my “condition.”
The cold air invigorates me.
I’m not sure an opportunity such as this will arrive again.
What if this is our last adventure into these woods?
Melek couldn’t get out of council meetings, so as much as I hate Halo, I silently thank them as I walk, and Sunny runs down the path towards his secret hideaway.
Every few trunks I bypass are etched with familiar letters, words, and sentences.
Whenever I try to read them, it always fills me with such melancholy that I often stop before finishing.
Gaining on the treehouse, it doesn’t surprise me when I see Sunny halfway up the ladder—another normal occurrence. I often ask him what he does up in his house, and he always answers the same: “Drawing.”
His illustrations are always so vivid. They have become some of my most prized possessions.
I confirmed with Melek a while ago that he indeed has drawings plastering the walls of the small wooden building.
So, to keep myself occupied while I wait, I pick at another tree and its strange divots in the bark.
“I miss you.” That is easy enough to decipher. I wonder if the Fairy Lands trees also have these markings. The first time Melek brought me to his manor was my first experience seeing trees—nature—so up close and personal. In my lightning farm cage, we could only see them from a distance.
While studying the bark, I absentmindedly rub at a tender spot that has been slowly growing along my lower back. Most likely from walking further than from one room to the next.
Sunny shouts out that he’s ready to go from the top of the tree.
His wide-eyed face pops out of the door, giving me his all-good thumbs up, and he starts to head down the ladder.
With the iciness invading my bones, I silently rejoice at the thought of heading back to the comfort of our fireplace.
But the sudden snap of wood breaking has me whipping back towards the ladder to see Sunny’s small frame catapulting towards the ground, falling on his left arm with a sickening thud.
Adrenaline pumping, I run to my son, who lies on the forest floor, not making a sound. “Sunny, baby, are you okay?”
Skidding to a stop, I crouch as best I can before him, finding tears running down his chubby cheeks. “Mama, it hurts. It hurts so bad.” He doesn’t scream. Sunny just lies there, silent tears tearing at my soul, my world breaking in two. If anything happens to him, I won’t survive.
“Where, baby? Where does it hurt?” I hastily reply, trying to control my breath, having very little luck after my quick sprint towards the hurt boy.
“Mmmmy arrr-rrmmm.” He sniffles.
“Shhh, baby. It’s okay. Mama’s got you.” Rolling him over, I place my hands under his knees and back, lifting his body into my arms.
He cries harder at the movement. I groan, pushing up, the tender spot travelling up and around my stomach, worsening from the extra load. “It’s okay. Papa will know what to do.”
I gently place his hurt arm on his chest, pulling him as best I can above my bump. My only goal is to get us to Melek, so I shut my body’s needs down and find myself in a steady almost-jog moving through the tree-lined path, his sobs soaking my jacket.
Flying through the front door, I shout, “MELEK.”
The shrillness of my tone has footsteps pounding down the stairs in an instant. Our new maid also makes an appearance from the kitchen to gawk at us.
Commander Melek comes around the corner, striding towards us. I nearly crumple at the sight of him. My husband possesses a fortitude I could only ever hope for in situations like these. “What happened?” he asks gruffly, his features a mask of determination.
“He fell off the ladder and landed on his arm.” I softly say, “I think he broke it.” He examines the upset boy in my arms and then my face. His demeanour instantly changes when he takes me in, making my heart spasm. “What?”
“Give me Sunny,” he says, using the pitch I find it hard to defy.
After a moment, I release him into Melek’s arms. Without the weight of my child keeping me grounded, I notice something feeling off in my body, almost like I’ve lost my footing—a floating sensation.
That feeling you get when you haven’t eaten all day.
I used to always feel that way in the fields. This is different.
A ringing sounds in my ears, and I look up to see Melek handing Sunny over to our new maid while he’s on the phone. I don’t understand why he’s handing our son over. I try to say something, but a wave of dizziness casts its spell on me.
Soothing, steady hands lift me into my favourite chest. A chest I want to stay snuggled into for all of eternity.
“Storm, can you hear me?” His voice is measured. I hear the fear. His phone is back at his ear, and I frown.
“Yes, I can hear you. Who are you talking to?”
“Your doctor.” What? We need to contact Sunny’s paediatrician, not my doctor. Nothing is wrong with me. I am tired. That’s all.
Time moves abnormally as I notice Melek placing me on the silken sheets of our bed. He mumbles into his phone, pulling things out of the side drawer—the drawer he keeps his medical supplies in. After Sunny’s birth, he stocked it full, always the commander, thinking two steps ahead.
Fuck. I need to do something.
I go to take off my mittens. My fingers barely manage the easy task. I needn’t worry, though, because Melek is all over it. With a steadfast gleam in his eyes, he is removing my mittens, my scarf, and my coat. Underneath, I wear a long dress, and something wet by my legs catches my attention.
“Melek?” I croak.
Ripping off the sleeve of the left side of my dress, he places a solence pressure monitor on my upper arm. A heartbeat monitor swiftly follows on my opposite hand. My sight comes in and out of focus.
“Hey.” He brushes a thumb over my forehead. “I’m going to start a transfusion now. There’s going to be a slight pinch here.” There’s pressure on my inner wrist. When the solence monitor beeps, he releases the pressure from around my upper arm, and I feel the prick of my skin.
“Melek,” I whine, wondering what the fuck is going on with my body. I can’t feel any pain. “Something’s wrong,” my words croak out.
Steely grey eyes peer down at me—eyes I never want to let go of. “My solence will make it better. I promise.”
No longer floating, a flash fills my vision.
The erratic beating of my heart starts to even out.
Sparks continue to fly before me. Melek is here, and he holds my hand.
When the dancing stops, I find him watching me keenly, our silence having a private conversation, a lifetime of missed opportunities passing us by.
In my periphery, muffled sounds prick my interest, and Melek rips himself from our connection. The surly nature of his voice catches my ears, but everything slowly ebbs out as I turn my head to the side to see the shadow of a person dressed in all grey injecting something into my arm.
They have come.
They can’t take her from me.