I placed the earphones in my ears and pressed play, looking up at the girl in the mirror. She looked harrowed, hollow, wide eyes in a thin face, eyes as large as bowls and just as full. Full of more trauma than she could handle and struggling to get back to herself. To remember herself. I gripped the sides of the sink and listened.
If this was more torture, that would be it. I would wash down the drain.
The music was haunted. A floating voice sailed in the spaces between what I’d learned was piano. A dull thud. But then the vulnerability, the stress of the first words, hit me and I dissolved. My fingers slipped and I pressed them deeper into the porcelain. I watched the ghost in the mirror react and tried to recall that it was me.
“Clasp hands, you’ll survive.”
Her voice wavered as if she weren’t sure of her words, the fear in there, the loss of something real.
“I’m on my own, looking in,
On the strife,
On the chaos.”
I couldn’t understand the next part, but her voice had me anyway. Something was over, she sung. It was about things that were out of her control. My tears fell into the basin, just water.
Insubstantial water.
Powerful water.
I can do this. I have to. My heart burgled all the strength it could. My head fell as I watched tears pour down the drain, my hair, waving, glowing light and wrong.
“Fate’s taking the last of your strength,
But I know you’ve got a lot of fight left.
Fate’s taking the last of your strength,
But I know you’ve got a lot of fight left.”
Something was stuck in my throat, heaving panic. Let this be the last time.
“I can’t cry for fear of what it means.
I can hope but it leaves me undone.
Regrets keep me standing alone.
Wondering what I could’ve done.
Wondering if I gave you enough.”
There was more than just tears burning my throat; something else was stuck in there, my heart, my soul. I was trying so hard and then, I stopped. This will be the last time. Make it count, I thought. I eased myself down to the floor, the damp bath mat cool on my legs, the player pulling over the edge and landing on the floor. I wrapped my arms around my legs to contain the shaking.
“Please, my love, change this time, change this place.”
She wailed, she pleaded. But it wasn’t going away.
“Take this pain away.” She threw the words at me, threw them into the atmosphere, and offered them to anyone that would have them. And I wanted to take the pain for her. I wanted to be stronger.
Grant. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I let myself feel it. I let the tears run over my lips and into my hands. I held them there.
“Leave me my memories.
Leave them here with me.”
She asked. She told. She demanded.
I thought, They’re mine. You can’t take him from me. You can’t change my mind about him. I won’t.
I let the words roll over and over like racing clouds heavy with destruction. They floated in front of my face; they sloped over my forehead and smoothed down my hair.
“Fate’s taking the last of your strength,
But I know you’ve got a lot of fight left.
Fate’s taking the last of your strength,
But I know you’ve got a lot of fight left.”
I knew.
This would be the last time I let him hurt me.
JOSEPH
We arrived at the camp after walking half the night, Ermil managing to support his weight but still needing a crutch. We were dirty, happy, and different.
The early morning clink of metal cups and the pour of hot water reassured me, brought me home. We were purposefully loud as we entered the broken-up camp; people perched between the trees of the thickly wooded area. Everyone reacted, jumping up, grabbing weapons. When Gus faced us, he broke into a wide smile.
“I knew you’d make it,” he said, clapping his hands together. I couldn’t help but grin, his happiness rubbing off on me.
Pelo ran up and offered an arm to Ermil so he could ease himself down. A drink was offered as soon as his butt hit the ground. Pelo looked up at me and his eyes again slapped me with their likeness to Rosa’s. I shook it away, pressing her memory down and tucking it under other things.
“I’m so glad you’re safe,” he said, standing up and bringing me into his arms. “I couldn’t lose you too.”
My arms were at my sides. I held my breath while he hugged me.
“I’m fine, Pelo,” I muttered, realizing I’d left him to deal with his grief alone because I’d been too busy with my own. I took a deep breath and forced myself to look at him. “I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye.” I connected with his eyes briefly and then looked away.
Pelo waved his hand, steam coming from his mouth as he spoke. “No matter, no matter. You’re safe, that’s the important thing.” He lifted a finger to the air. “That and the fact that our plans seem to be working marvelously.” I caught myself starting to roll my eyes and stopped.
Matt came up behind us and broke the tension, his voice anchored in pride. “You should have seen him performing surgery on the side of a hill by torchlight! It was very impressive.”
“I had help,” I muttered, pointing in Elise’s direction. I thought I caught a quick glare from Desh.
She smiled shyly and swept her short hair behind her ear. “It was mostly Joseph. I just held the torch.”
I shrugged. She did more than that.
Clapping startled us, very slow clapping coming from the outer edges of the camp.
“Hooray for the hero,” Rash exclaimed sarcastically.
I turned to face him. His eyebrows were pulled down; dark circles ran under his eyes like bruises.
“They never said…” I started.
“No, really you are,” Rash said, shaking his head and stepping towards me, getting closer than he had since the night we’d left the Superior’s compound. “You saved your own skin and left Rosa to rot. Now, look, you’ve played the hero, and you’ve got a new admirer. You can forget all about her now.”
“Rash…” Pelo sighed.
He took another step, reached out, and poked me in the chest accusingly. “Isn’t that right?” Each word was punctuated with a sharp tap to my heart.
I stared down at him. Tears pooled in his eyes. “No,” I said sternly.
He desperately wanted to hit me. I could feel his fists burning to connect.
Matt spoke. “You don’t know the whole story. Joseph did what he could, but she couldn’t be saved.”
Desh’s head snapped towards Matt, his expression baffled. I took the opportunity to move away from Rash, but he followed me. I turned back to him and growled. “Not now!”
Rash put his hands up and smirked at me infuriatingly.
I grabbed Desh’s arm and yanked him away from the camp, pulling him in between the thick trunks that barricaded us in like the black-clad legs of Woodlands’ soldiers.