So here’s the thing.
This has been the craziest year at work (because of the fallout of the pandemic and its impact on education). And I mean the craziest. This is the busiest I have **ever** been in May. If I were having a pity party, I would probably tell you that I’m exhausted and drained and over it.
The point of this is to let you know that I haven’t forgotten about wyoa. There will be more once my cognitive load eases. Until then, here are some of my favorite bits so far.
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Max didn’t respond. Wordlessly, he walked past me, only the slightest stiffness in his movements remaining. He kept his back to me, facing the kitchen counter. “Oh, Quinn. So trusting.”
~~
“She is alive. And if you would like her to stay that way, you will place your weapons on the floor.”
~~
“Quinn.” His voice was alarmingly weaker now, trailing off into a rasping exhale that was followed by an effortful inhale. His hand reached toward my face, then fell away. A faint smile flickered across his mouth, and he coughed, trying to fill his lungs with air. Then his eyes, still fixed on mine, closed.
Panic filled my chest and spilled into my voice. “Joseph? Joseph! No, no, no, Joseph!”
~~
I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to console him, to assure him that I did not hold him responsible, to ease his guilt. But no words would come. I didn’t think there was anything I could say that would make him believe me right now. Instead, I squeezed his hand comfortingly.
“But we’re safe,” I whispered. “Both of us. We survived our mistakes.” Barely, but we had.
~~
I took a faltering step forward, dismayed and fearful. They had said he was fine. Every doctor we had spoken with assured us that Joseph would make a full recovery. But this—Joseph limp, unconscious, breathing with a mask—this was not fine. I couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but stare at my cousin.
~~
But even with my eyes squeezed shut, I could not rid my mind of the image of my kitchen knife laying on my lap, still covered with Joseph’s dried blood, the reddish brown color stark against the white cloth.
I focused all my energy on keeping my stomach from revolting again, trying every calming strategy or breathing technique that I could think of. Eventually, I regained enough control to lift my head up without a repeat performance. Deep breaths in, deep breaths out. If I could just concentrate on inhaling and exhaling, then I might be able to stand, which seemed like a monumental task at the moment. I rubbed at my face, pushing the palms of my hands hard against my cheeks and eyes. I latched onto the feeling of blood rushing to the skin there and clung to it.
~~
“Lucas,” I said, more sharply than I intended, “sit down.”
He looked confused, but obeyed. He sank back into the chair and stared around the room with a dazed expression. At that moment, I wasn’t sure he even knew where he was. His eyes were heavy, and his pupils kept losing focus and darting around the room before coming to rest again. As much as he should have been in his own bed, I couldn’t let him drive. Instead, I found one of the blankets and the pillow that the nurses had given me for my vigil the night before.
~~
“It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.” The tears started up again, leaking from the corners of my eyes. I pulled my hand back and curled in on myself, trying to hide from the grief and guilt.
A warm hand settled on my back, and another gently grasped my chin and tilted my head up. I looked into Lucas’ eyes, startled to find them so intense. His thumb gently brushed a tear from my cheek.
“No,” he said softly, firmly. “It’s not.”
~~
I looked at the stained carpet, then over at the mattress. Both looked disgusting, but at least the mattress would be soft. I hoped. I leaned against the wall, pressing hard as I slid up, coming unsteadily to my feet. The room spun around me, and I remained where I was until it slowed to a gentle roll. Then I inhaled deeply and left the safety of the wall. I took a step toward the mattress. Then another. And another. The room, so small before, now seemed impossibly huge. I had crossed a little more than half the distance when the ground suddenly rushed towards me and I fell into darkness.
~~
The voices and footsteps drew nearer, then faded away. I could not make out a single word they had spoken. He had been right there, so close, just on the other side of the door, and now he was gone. My throat ached with emotion, and my chest felt hollow. My chance to leave this place had walked right past me. Why was he here?
~~
Vlad grabbed for me. I swiped at him with the glass, slicing a bloody gash down his forearm. He howled and lunged, but I just managed to duck away, stumbling on the uneven surface of the mattress. I teetered, then fell, crashing to the ground. Instantly, Vlad was there, standing over me and reaching down with both hands. He gripped my arms and yanked me upright, dragging my body so close to his I could feel the heat of his skin.
“I will slit your throat. I will cut you into tiny bits. And then I will take whatever is left and send it to your family,” he snarled in my ear.
My breath came in harsh, rasping, terrified gasps. “Is that—it?” I gritted between clenched teeth, then drove my knee up and in as hard as I could.
~~
He was conscious, but only just. His head turned slowly toward me, eyes half-closed. For a moment, all the chaos and noise fell away. The sterile interior of the ambulance faded to the background, the wail of the sirens dimmed, and the world consisted only of Joseph and myself. I looked into his green eyes, hoping to find some hint that he would be all right, that we would both be safe. Then his fingers tightened around mine, and he smiled.
~~
One more tear rolled down my cheek as I whispered softly, only to myself, “It’ll be okay, Joseph. You’re going to be fine.” And I wanted so desperately to believe it.
~~
It took some time before I felt grounded again, safe in the moment. Able to spare mental energy to take stock of my surroundings. Tears no longer streaming down my cheeks. And when I finally looked around the room, I had to choke back a gasping sob.
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“He was gray in the face and couldn’t even manage a vest, but he was going in with us come hell or high water. Fletcher threatened him with everything he could think of, but it didn’t make a difference. His mind was made up.”
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“I’m pulling a team to send over to you. If Maksym has any sense, he’ll be on the first flight across the nearest border, but there’s no harm in playing it safe.”
~~
