IRIS
I stumble back, bumping into Rose, who’s standing right behind me in the doorway. We have no choice but to back into the living room as Sol moves forward and pulls the door of the cabin closed behind him. He is in front of it now, blocking our way out.
“Ah, and Rose is with you! Where are you two off to?” he asks. That smile, the one that has always given me a feeling of warmth and security, seems cruel and leering now, as sharp as a wolf’s fang.
“We’re leaving.” I want it to sound confident. Maybe even casual, so I don’t sound afraid. But my trembling voice betrays me.
Sol’s smile falters, and for a moment he looks sincerely hurt. “I take it you’ve made your decision about the trial, then,” he says, blue eyes searching my face for confirmation. He must find it there, because he closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so disappointed.”
“Sol, please …”
“I know you’ve let down everyone else in your life, Iris, but I thought you’d have more respect for me. After all I’ve done for you.” He opens his eyes and looks past me, to Rose. “Did she tell you what the knife was for?”
My heart stops then. The terror and shame that’s been stirring in my chest begins to claw its way up into my throat.
Rose is silent, standing as straight and still as one of the dogwood trees that will soon begin to bloom in the hollow.
Her eyes are wide, darting around like a rabbit trying to figure out where to flee from a predator.
But when Sol speaks to her, they focus on him, then flick down to the knife in my hand.
“Took her three days,” he says. “Three full days to decide not to slit your throat, and instead she’s decided to stab me in the back and betray all her sisters.”
I can feel Rose’s eyes on me. Can feel the question hanging in the air. And I suppose my inability to look at her is its own answer.
“Sol, please,” I say again. “I’m—I’m sorry. But I don’t want anyone to get hurt. You’ve helped me a lot, and I appreciate it. I really do. But I can’t do it. We just— We can just go. Please. We’ll go. We won’t tell anyone about this place.”
He lets out a huff of bitter laughter. “It doesn’t work like that, Iris. You know that. I know Violet took you to see Marigold.”
“Marigold?” Rose’s voice is even raspier than usual, cracked and jagged like shattered glass.
“She didn’t tell you?” Sol asks. And there’s that wolfish smile again. “I hate to break the news to you, Rose, but Iris has misled you. There’s no leaving here. Not for those who haven’t finished the trials.”
“So it’s true, then?” I ask. “What Violet said? You killed Marigold?” Despite everything that happened, despite the violence Sol asked me to commit, some part of me had clung to the idea that Violet might be lying. Now, though, Sol’s words all but confirm the truth.
“No. I didn’t touch Marigold.”
“But you locked her in the shed. You wouldn’t let her leave. It’s your fault what happened to her.”
“The other girls understood she was a weed,” Sol says. He takes another step closer to us, causing me to stumble back and nearly trip over Rose’s feet. “Lily’s a soft, sweet girl. It hurt her heart, but she’s still here, isn’t she? Because she knows—accident or not—it’s what needed to happen.”
“Or maybe because she’s terrified!” But even as I shout this at him, I can’t help questioning if that’s true at all. Because despite Lily’s sadness every time Marigold is mentioned and the way she behaves around the shed, I’ve never seen anything but adoration in her eyes when she looks at Sol.
“Enough,” Rose says, her voice sounding a bit stronger now. “You can’t keep us here.” She grabs my hand and starts pulling me down the hall, toward the back door.
But Sol is bigger and stronger than two underfed girls. He lunges forward, taking hold of my other arm and yanking me back against him and out of Rose’s grasp. I let out a startled cry of pain, and the knife in my right hand falls to the floor with a clatter.
Rose spins around. “Let her go!”
“And what do you think happens once you leave here? Hm?” Sol demands. “Neither of you has anywhere to go. And you—” His icy eyes turn on me. “You are a criminal, Iris. You burned down an old man’s store. Forget the foster system. You’ll go to jail.”
“Maybe it’d be better than being here,” I snap. Though the thought of iron bars does freeze my blood in my veins.
Sol snarls. “You two are so ungrateful.”
I try to pull away, but his callused grip is strong.
And when I attempt to stomp on his foot, he dodges and jerks me closer, wrapping his other arm around my neck in a choke hold.
I kick and squirm, but his pressure tightens.
The already surreal, nightmarish colors of the world around me begin to darken as blackness encroaches on my vision.
“No!”
Rose lunges forward, and her surprise show of bravery must shock Sol—no one expects the rabbit to attack the wolf, after all. He stumbles, and the arm around my neck loosens as Rose collides with him.
All three of us fall to the floor in a scrambling heap of limbs. I manage to roll away as I try to catch my breath. My chest heaves, and I gasp for air. My entire body is shaking with fear and shock.
Behind me, Rose and Sol are struggling. She’s smaller than Sol, but she’s fast, kicking and punching and biting as he tries to shove her away.
My head is spinning and my vision is still blurry. Again, I wonder if I’m dreaming. Surely this is a nightmare. As the horror around me comes into view, my eyes catch sight of the knife. It’s lying right there on the floor, next to my right hand.
I stare at it.
Stare at the glint of the silver blade. At the reflection of a scared, frail girl I hardly even recognize.
I wrap my fingers around the hilt.
“Get off me!” Sol growls as he manages to flip himself and Rose over, pinning her to the ground.
She’s still kicking, aiming for his knees and his groin, her teeth gnashing like a feral animal caught in a trap.
But he has control now that the surprise has worn off.
And one of his hands moves to grasp her throat.
I see the way the fingers flex to squeeze.
I can almost feel them on my own neck. Rose gasps, her hands moving to his wrists, clawing desperately.
I’m frozen. It feels like I’m watching a scene in a movie. Yes, I think. Yes, this is definitely a nightmare. The knife is heavy and awkward in my hand. It feels foreign. My hand doesn’t even feel like it’s part of my body anymore.
Rose’s panicked green eyes find mine, waiting for me to do something. Waiting for me to help her.
Wake up, I tell myself. Please, please wake up.
“Don’t move, Iris,” Sol says. “It doesn’t have to end this way for you, sweetheart. Once she’s gone, we can get you back on track. You still have a chance to fix things here.”
Time stops.
The grim oil painting I’ve been living in for the past three days keeps bleeding, colors blurring together.
Once again, I have a choice. I can let this happen to Rose. I can go back to the way things were before she came down into the hollow. I can be a flower, not a weed, finish my trials, bloom under Sol’s nurturing sunlight. It’s what I wanted. What I thought would save me.
But Rose would be gone, buried in a cold, shallow grave next to Marigold, and I’d still be Iris.
Not me, but Iris, the girl Sol has taught to let go of everything besides him. The girl he wants me to be. And I’ll know, no matter what happens from here, who he really is. What he’s capable of. What he might ask of any of us in the future.
I’ll always know what happened to Marigold.
The veil has been lifted, and I’ve seen too much.
My other choice is to risk my life, whether it be here, at his hand, or out there, where I have no one and nothing, except Rose. Maybe Poppy and Zinnia, if I can get them out of here. I will lose them, too, if I go to jail for what I did to Mr. Brophy’s store.
Staying here would, in some ways, be the easier choice, but it wouldn’t be mine. It would be the choice of the girl Sol told me to be. And I don’t want to be her anymore.
Everything comes into sharper color, burning bright and vivid. Time speeds back up.
This isn’t a dream. It’s real. And I’m awake.
With the knife in my hand, I throw myself toward Sol. I don’t think. I don’t calculate. I just swing. The feel of the blade sinking into the flesh of Sol’s back makes me yelp, but the sound is drowned out by his roar of anger and pain.
His hands release Rose’s throat as he tries to turn and grab at me again instead.
Rose crawls away, sobbing and sputtering, as I dodge Sol. He’s slower now, but he’s still moving, which means we aren’t safe yet. I need him still long enough for us to get out through one of those doors.
His hand, previously around Rose’s throat, is pressed to his bleeding back as he crouches, glaring at me.
“That was a bad idea,” he hisses, his free hand clumsily trying to grasp my wrist. Even slow, he’s still strong. If he catches my arm, I doubt Rose will be able to help me get away again.
“Not as bad as this one,” I say as I make a snap decision and rush forward, knife held out in front of me.
He tries to put up his hands, tries to block me, but the pain from the first wound has slowed his reactions, because this time I’m able to push the knife into his gut.
Blood floods from the wound, all over my hand and soaking his shirt. Bright, gruesome red.
“Iris!” Rose’s scream is sharp and ragged from somewhere behind me.
Sol, with a gurgling groan, crumples to the floor, where he wraps his arms around his bleeding middle.
“What’s going on?”
Concerned voices come from down the hall as Violet and Lily come rushing out of their room. There’s creaking on the stairs as Poppy and Zinnia stumble down from the attic, dark brown eyes wide with panic.
And they all see it.
See Rose leaning against the wall, still catching her breath.
See Sol curled on the floor, panting and bleeding as he curses at me between groans of pain.
And see me, standing over him with a knife.