Page 21 of King of Ruin

“All the King’s horses and all the King’s men...”

Half the water soaks into the dry concrete.

“Couldn’t put Humpty together again.”

Phineas drops the bottle on the floor before turning his back and leaving without another word, the red hue of frustration creeping up his neck.

The door slams shut at the same moment I finally tumble, leaning over on my side and internally brace myself to hit the hard floor, but instead meet warm arms.

Kane hovers over me, gripping me around the back and cradling my head. He doesn’t say anything as he moves my body around to get comfortable and leans over to grab the discarded water. I’m not sure how much is left, but the moment it meets my lips, it doesn’t matter. The first bit seems to soak into dry lips and tongue while the second actually goes into my throat. The third is when my body finds strength and grips onto Kane’s arms like a vice, urging him to pour faster.

“Slower, or you’ll throw it up.”

I grunt my disapproval but let him take his time tipping the rest in. When it’s gone he tosses it to the side and readjusts, pulling another bottle from his pocket. It’s small, similar to the ones my mother would put in the mini-fridge in my room to limit midnight snacking.

After finishing this one, I gather enough energy to pull myself upright and out of his arms. He doesn’t argue but instead gets to his feet and picks up the bowl of fruit. It seems as if he tossed it in an attempt to catch me before I fell and half of the fruit is scattered across the floor.

He brings the bowl in front of me, and I reach a shaking hand out to grab one of the sliced cubes of pink fruit. I take my time chewing it before realizing it’s watermelon and reaching for another. Slowly, my trembling limbs begin to stabilize and my vision clears. I’m able to grab at the food with a steady hand and discern the various fruits he brought. When the bowl is empty, Kane picks up the spoiled fruit and empty bottles, and turns for the door.

Whether it’s because I’m still delusional or just honestly grateful, I push the words out of my mouth, ignoring my pounding heart. “Thank you.”

He pauses for a moment and I ready myself for the cutting reply. But instead, he continues walking. “I’ll be back with breakfast.”

Then he shuts the door.

“Do you think she’s really coming?” I ask as I pace the room for the hundred and sixth time.

Pacing keeps me going–keeps my mind from imploding, from falling through a hole made of nothing but broken shards of glass and manic echoes of laughter.

With every step I drive it away, prolonging the inevitable as I listen to Kilo’s steady heartbeat and Shi’s hushed whispers. But just as my foot lifts off the ground and the worry ebbs, it comes crashing back to shore the moment I stop.

Onyx.

Z.

Sister.

Harlow.

My sweet Harley.

“Madeline. She’s coming.” Shi reassures me yet again as she brushes Kilo’s hair away from his face.

She offers him another sip of water which he accepts gingerly.

He woke up this morning, just after the boys called to give us an update on the estate’s repairs. I’ve never seen his eyes so clear. So still. Even now as he watches me sulk back and forth, his gaze follows a smooth path left to right.

He hasn’t verbally communicated, which doctors seem to think is normal for now. Waking up after a surgery that took both legs can be rathertraumatizing, they said. So as long as he communicates with the occasional head nod, and his vitals stay good, they aren’t worried.

Hearing that hasn’t really eased my mind how it should, but it seems to have done the trick for the rest of the family. The twins have been able to find extra guards who can be on standby at the estate, ready to grab materials for the builders so they can work straight through into the night. Cat, and the collection of maids, were able to clean up the butler and other bodies from the yard while also cleaning the inside to look as if nothing had ever happened.

Shi’s already made funeral arrangements for the few men we lost, while the others who were present during the attack have all been discharged and sent to Hearts for extra protection.

Onyx trained us to go on if she were to ever be… indisposed, and I know she’ll be proud of what the others have done, but me? I’m unraveling. Tearing at the seams. Grasping at anything to keep me from ripping the city up, brick by fucking brick, until I’ve torn out every throat of every Murphy in the state.

See, out of all of us, Onyx included, I’m the maddest. The one who laughs as I gouge someone’s eyes out and later uses them as martini olives. The person who you’d think has a simple switch in her mind that goes from here to there in a second flat. But really it’s much more complex.

My mind is made on an unsturdy foundation. I’m the house at the end of a dock, in the middle of the sea, with only two by fours as my support. Everything looks certifiably dangerous but is actually perfectly balanced. It’s a wonder how it all stays put, but it does. Until it doesn’t.

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