Page 118 of The Last Hope
Tomorrow, we’ll go farther into the city, but for now, we’re staying among the unruly waves. Hopefully the ocean drowns Gem’s wails and no one from the city can hear.
We’re trying to blend in and be invisible. Not stand out and be questioned by the country’s Patrol.
Please, no one find us.
Please let us be safe through the night.
Please.
I shake, trying to forget the violent waters and being swept below. Tumbling with no control. Choking on briny sea. My throat is scratched raw.
“Squeeze my hand,” Padgett coaches her sister, their voices carrying. Walls block my view of them.
We’ve all split up in the driest parts of the house. Deeper inside, Court is with Gem. He’s been using a piece of steel that Padgett found washed up inside the dilapidated house. The metal is heated with an industrial lighter that Stork brought.
He also packed a small supply of painkillers in a med kit, but the medicine doesn’t rid all the pain. I most definitely know this.
My back is stinging madly. Like I’ve tripped on ice a thousand-and-one times. Away from most everybody, I’m tucked in a small alcove. What I imagine could’ve been a fancy wardrobe closet. With rich garments full of oceanic splendor. The picture almost makes me smile.
I’m not all alone.
With antiseptic and cotton balls, Stork lightly dabs at the cuts that rake down my back, from shoulder blades to hips. I sit between his legs in the tiny space.
Moonlight from Rosaline brightens our surroundings, and I often look up at the starlit black night.
Cloudless.
Smokeless.
A beauty made to revel in, but pain flares and I forget to be grateful for the sight.
Court hasn’t had the chance to check on me yet. I all but shoved him toward Gem. She needs him more. My wounds feel shallow.
Mykal wanted to be here beside me, but it’s better if he’s farther away. It’ll save him from experiencing the pain, and if he’s closer to Court, it’ll help keep them both agony-free. That way Gem has Court’s complete focus.
Zimmer just left me a moment ago to wash bloodstains out of my ripped shirt. We didn’t bring a change of clothes. Even torn to shreds, I can fashion the fabric into a top, but the blood would catch unwanted attention.
Before he left, he held my cheeks and he said, “You’re alive.”
I’m alive.I managed a tearful smile. Not dying is a feat that I’ve come to appreciate.
The memory drifts with the slap of a wave. Mist showering me and salting my skin.I’m alive,I repeat over and over to keep fear at bay.
Stork wipes a biting slash near my hip. I wince into my kneecap and hold my legs closer to my breasts.
“Sorry, dove. I’m almost done.” Still behind me, he gently strokes hair off the nape of my neck, his fingers trailing down my collar.
That feels good.
He repeats the soothing motion, and I find myself tilting my head. Allowing Stork more access to the soft flesh of my neck. He draws a feather-light line across my collarbone and then slowly… so… so slowly down the length of my arm.
Until his fingers brush over my fingers that are death-clutching my legs.
“Are you scared or are you in pain?” Stork breathes, just barely audible over the crashing waves.
The question takes me aback. I’ve been with Court and Mykal for such a long time now. Boys who can feel what I feel. They jump to thewhysfirst. Why am I afraid? Why am I in pain?
I forgot what it’s like being around someone who doesn’t know my emotions for certain. “Mostly, I’m scared,” I admit, my voice raspy from gurgling salt water. “And I really don’t want to be.”
