Page 82 of Conform
No.This couldn’t be real. My pulse hammered in my ears. He had just whistled. I found those hateful eyes.I didn’t do it.Cold sweat coated every inch of me.It will be okay.This was like Gregory. They were just sending a message. That was all.
“You would all do well to follow her example. Thank you, Emeline. The Illum are with you. Collin, you chose well. Proceed.” Tabitha disappeared.
Collin would have the man taken away. He was going to threaten everyone and that was it. He didn’t believe in eliminating Defects. He had told me he didn’t believe in it.
Collin stood, the epitome of grace, that power and viciousness surrounding him. If there was an internal battle, he didn’t show it.
Whatever is required of me. Everything I do is for the Greater Good.
“Eliminate him,” Collin’s voice rang out.
My pulse roared in my ears. I couldn’t breathe.
The man didn’t beg. He didn’t do anything but release another low whistle before dropping to his knees. His eyes locked on mine as he began panting. Blood trickled from his ears onto the floor. I couldn’t look away. It was the Parting all over again. I stood frozen in horror.
“The Reaper is coming for you all,” the man rasped. “He will tear your buildings to the ground.” He fell fully to the floor, gasping. A gurgling filled the air.
No one had touched him, but he was dying. His eyes began turning red. I felt the world tremble beneath my heels.
The man attempted to whistle again from the ground, but nothing came out. He tried again, unyielding in the face of death. Blood sprayed from his mouth with his last breath.
The blood from his ears pooled on the floor. The world shook again, like at any moment we’d all crash to the ground.
It wasn’t the world, I realized. It was me. I couldn’t stop shaking as some essential part of me, a piece of innocence I hadn’t even realized I had contained, shattered for good.
Collin stood at the head of the table. “Does anyone else need any more entertainment for the evening?”
No one made a sound. I couldn’t look away from the now lifeless body.
“No? Are we sure?” Collin asked, taking a drink. His hand didn’t even shake. My legs shook so violently I thought I might fall into my seat. “Remove him and bring out our meals. Sit.” My legs gave out.
Two men in green picked up the man; his now red eyes were open but unseeing. They carried him out and, with him, the part of me that had ever thought anything good happened in their clouds.
A hand touched my knee. I jumped as I found Collin looking at me. I couldn’t read his expression or maybe I just didn’t want to. He hadn’t prepared me for what I had just witnessed. I pulled my leg out of his grasp, blinking. I felt stuck and hollow.
“Eat,” Collin commanded.
The sounds of forks and knives filled the room. Slowly people began to talk. I heard laughter from the far end of the table. I mindlessly lifted my fork and knife, cutting into the meat. Red spilled onto my plate. My stomach turned. All I could see was the man’s blood spilling onto the floor—the man Tabitha had said met his death because of me. I laid my fork down. I couldn’t eat.
I couldn’t think. Lightheadedness blurred my vision, and I focused on breathing.
I sat in the cacophony of the Elite, who ate like we hadn’t just witnessed a murder.
Breathe. Again. Again.
A chair scraped against the floor as Collin stood. Distantly, I noticed our plates had been cleared.
“In two days’ time, we shall ambush the underground community,” Collin began, then called for ten members of the Elite to meet him in another room, including all the men of my birth family. I stood when I heard other chairs moving. Collin must have dismissed them.
Collin grabbed my hand. I made to pull away, but he gripped my hand harder, tugging it so I fell into him, his arm snaking around my waist. Everyone watched us. I didn’t have the strength to push him away. I was utterly numb. “Nora will take you.”
Nora’s small hand threaded through my arm, linking with me. I let her guide me out of the room. With each step, the Elite bowed to us, to me. Nora sidestepped the pool of blood. It was all I saw on the walk to the private quarters. I tuned out Nora’s calming words, the kind I assumed she would say to one of her frightened offspring.
Eventually, we were seated in the sunken seating area. I stared straight ahead at the woman in the art piece cloaked in all white, an innocence and purity about her—things I had just lost.
“Tea. The way you make it,” I heard Nora say to someone. Heavy footsteps took off. Minutes, perhaps hours later, I had a warm cup of tea in my hands.
“How?” I asked, my voice cracking.
