Page 165 of Bones
Someone grabbed my arm and shook me hard. I opened my eyes with a gasp to see the dark clinic, and for a brief second, I thought maybeallof it had been a nightmare, maybe Trey was about to?—
“Shut up, Angel,” Vulture’s voice growled instead.
He loomed over me like a dark shadow. I rolled away, curled into a ball, and stuffed the blanket into my mouth to muffle my sobs. After a minute, I heard him walk back to the chair. I squeezed my eyes shut again.
“You’re a river. You don’t break, you bend.”
Mac’s comforting words rang empty now. I couldn’t find a way to bend this time because I didn’t break, I shattered.
* * *
Someone yanked on the chain connected to my manacle, and I opened my eyes to see daylight streaming in the windows. I moved my head just enough to see Vulture standing at the foot of my mattress with a woman holding a bloodied rag to her head.
“Time to get to work,” Vulture ordered.
I got up, washed my hands, and performed the necessary steps to stitch up the woman’s head in a numb haze broken only by the sound of the chain clanking along behind me. The injured woman perched on the exam chair watching me with wide eyes. She looked familiar, and I knew if I thought about it, I’d remember her name, but I couldn’t summon the energy or the desire to try. As I cleaned the wound, she made a soft sound that had me glancing down to her face out of habit. Her wide eyes glimmering with tears met mine.
“I’m so sorry, Bones,” she whispered.
I kept working, trying to shove those kind words deep down where I couldn’t think about them, but they festered like an infected splinter. She didn’t try to speak to me again, but right before I finished, she managed to catch my hand, squeezing it for such a brief moment that I almost thought I imagined it. After she left, I numbly cleaned up my workspace until Vulture cleared his throat. I glanced over at where he stood near the door, leaning against the wall. He nodded toward my mattress where my breakfast ration sat on the floor.
I finished sterilizing my tools, washed my hands, and curled up on my mattress again without touching it.
Most people who came in to be healed were grave and quiet. Their eyes flickered between me and Vulture. Some of them murmured condolences that burned into my skin like the brand on my chest. I didn’t respond to them, but they didn’t seem upset by it. Madame’s guards, on the other hand, came in grinning and laughing. I almost refused to heal the few who walked in with injuries, but that tiny lick of fire flickered out again before I could do anything with it. So I just did my job and ignored the cruel comments they threw at me. I knew they wanted to get a reaction, and I hadn’t spent twelve years being taunted by the Reapers for nothing.
I refused my dinner ration again. Vulture glared at me, his dark eyes glittering, but he didn’t say anything.
Twice a day Vulture let me off the chain to use the outhouse. I moved through the days like a dead person walking. Nothing seemed real. People continued to come in for healing, but I didn't see any of Mac's crew. I wasn't sure if they'd been forbidden to come or if they just couldn't stand to see me. If they hated me now, I couldn't blame them. Trey had been their family, and because of me, he was dead.
Every night I woke up screaming, Trey’s bloody face etched on the back of my eyelids, and every night Vulture snarled at me to shut up, so I did. I kept waiting for him to dosomethingto me, to get his revenge for my betrayal, but he didn’t. Maybe Madame had told him not to touch me.
* * *
Vulture let me go almost four days without eating before he jerked me upright one evening. He leaned in from where he crouched beside my mattress. "You're not allowed to starve yourself to death, Angel." He snarled, dropping a plate in my lap. "You keep this up and I'll put a fucking tube down your throat and force-feed you."
I stared at the plate in my lap and made myself pick up some of the food and take a bite. I didn't taste it at all, chewing and swallowing out of habit. Vulture stayed where he crouched, watching me close enough that my skin began to crawl a little. We'd been something like friends once. When I first snuck into his tent and dropped to my knees in front of him, his eyes widened with surprise, but he hadn’t hesitated.
He knew the means to power and control were a dangerous game, but his earlier words at the dam echoed through my head.“Which part are you sorry for? For all the lies or for leavin’ me to die?”
I would never forget that moment of raw pain and betrayal in his eyes when I left him for dead. I’d hesitated at that moment, startled by his reaction, but even if he had meantsomethingto me, I never loved him.
Not like I loved Trey.
Trey’s dead, empty eyes flashed through my mind, and I dropped the rest of the food back onto the plate, feeling sick. No, anything I’d ever felt for Vulture was as dead as the man I loved. Maybe he didn’t pull the trigger, but he killed Trey just as much as Madame did.
As much as you did.A small voice whispered in my head and bile rose in my throat.
I shoved the plate away from me, covering my mouth with my hand and breathing in through my nose like Sam had taught me. Vulture stared hard at me for a moment, but then he took it away and returned to his post by the door.
After that, I ate just enough to keep Vulture off my back. I slept most of the time even though blood and the gaping hole in the side of Trey's head filled my dreams. I woke up screaming more often than not, but being awake was worse than being asleep. At least when I slept, sometimes I didn't have nightmares. Being awake was one long, unending nightmare I knew I would never wake up from. So I stayed on my mattress, chasing that escape of nothingness. I got better at waking up with my jaw clenched tight so I didn't scream out loud. The people of the Vault who came in for healing kept whispering concerned questions, but I still didn't answer them. Maybe I couldn't. I rarely spoke at all and despite sleeping most of the time, the exhaustion never eased. I wondered where the kids had gone, but I didn't ask. They were probably dead too.
* * *
Six days after Trey’s death, Lem showed up at the door and announced that Madame summoned me.
We went down the stairs to the dungeon torture room and stepped through the door to see Nemo sitting in the chair again. He looked thin, his pale face covered in dark bruises. Madame stood in front of him and gestured to him with her clean knife when I entered.
"Get him back to full health," Madame ordered like nothing had happened, like she hadn't put a gun to Trey's head and killed him.
