Page 121 of Cold-Blooded Creatures
I slid out of my chair and took the handle, terminating its non-ceasing rotation. As gently as I possibly could, I raised Zion’s head. My heart wilted at the anguish etched into each contour of his face, as if the maw of a vicious storm had closed on him.
“I’m sorry.” I kissed his forehead, his nose, his chin. “I know it won’t change the past, but I’m so sorry.”
He pressed his forehead to mine. “I have you now.” His breath mingled with mine.
“It’s not the same.” I placed a palm on his chest, counting his heartbeats, each thump heavy, fighting for the next one.
Gedeon knelt beside us and squeezed Zion’s shoulder. His hand glided to Zion’s neck and lingered there for five heartbeats, his thumb stroking along the artery, before withdrawing and turning my chin to face him. “Why did you run?”
I gathered saliva in my parched mouth. My question was about to drain the entire reserve of my courage. “Have you ever got tested for fertility?”
“Why?” Gedeon released my chin. “You wore a black band. It carries no weight if we did or not.”
I traced the seams of dark wood floorboards, all straight and glued perfectly together, not crooked like me.
“I’m fertile,” I blurted out.
“You can’t be. They don’t make mistakes in testing.” Zion shifted into a cross-legged position and pulled my palm into his lap. He did that a lot. Deflected whenever I asked why.
I threw my head over the edge of the chair’s seat. “It’s a long story.”
“Now.” Gedeon’s voice took on a note of authority. “You are telling us now.”
My sigh mirrored the heaviness of the flaking paint marring the ceiling. Moisture had swelled and shrunk, causing hundreds of cracks to appear, unseen unless you searched for them. Identical to the lacerations my nightmare had left in me with its talons—invisible but slowly bleeding me dry.
Surrendering myself to the judgment I was certain they’d dole out to me, I began telling the story of how my blood had turned to ice. “I used to have a friend. When we were twelve, I talked her into sneaking out of our school and we ended up finding ourselves near Ilasall’s wall. Maybe luck had decided to follow us that day because we found an unlocked door and climbed to the top of the wall.” Brutal wind had whipped our hair, and her cheeks had reddened. I’d loved seeing the color on her.
“Alora.” Zion massaged my pinky, the finger that had marked step one of my and Alora’s plan.
“Yes,” I admitted. “We gaped at the sea of trees, a forest, so green, so vivid. But the guards found us and brought us back to our school. The teachers asked how we’d wound up there and Alora took the blame. They separated her from the rest of us for three days. I still don’t know what punishment she endured, but she was never the same after. I spent every night in her bedto soothe her. She couldn’t sleep without someone holding her. She’d cry herself dry and stare at the ceiling otherwise.
“A year later, we were going through fertility testing, and she had made a plan. There was a man in the school’s lab who’d agreed to mark her test samples as negative if she… You can guess this part. The thing is, they don’t mark the samples with your name, only a number. My job was to find out hers if she couldn’t do it herself.” I paused. “I found it. I also found mine.” I furiously scrubbed away my traitorous tears. “I told her everything would be alright. That she would be okay.”
“You told her your sample number instead of hers,” Gedeon stated. “So no matter the result,yougot marked as black.”
I stayed silent, focusing on the largest flake of white paint right above me. I couldn’t say it out loud. The admission felt like walking into a sea with a backpack full of rocks and wading away from the shore, toward the sun vanishing on the horizon, toward salvation and damnation. Swimming until you couldn’t reach the bottom, until the waves didn’t crash anymore, until the weight pulled you under, salty water filled your lungs, the depths of nature’s force absorbed your scream, and slippery creatures with fins ate away your heart.
So I didn’t say it.
Instead, I finished my story. “They separated us into different schools. The tests showed she could have children, so she got a green band, and I, a black one. No matter how much I begged, they wouldn’t let me visit her or tell me anything about her. Years later, I spotted her walking across the street. She was pregnant and…” I swallowed. “I was supposed to be in her place. I hadusedher to get out of it. Had condemned her to the worst life possible. And yet she kept quiet. Didn’t tell anyone about this as far as I know, because no one has come searching for me. She’s been protecting me all this time. Even though I did nothing but hurt her.
“After I got my first job, I spent months trying to find out who the man in the lab was. I found out the places he frequented, including an illegal bar. One night, I pretended to have ended up there by accident and got him drunk. Convinced him to take me to his apartment. After, on the verge of passing out, he revealed that the sample he’d marked as negative was actually positive. That’s why I need to know if you can have children. Because I can’t. I won’t. I didn’t sacrifice her for nothing. My nightmares do not plague me fornothing.” My voice cracked, but I willed my unshed tears away. They were for people whose hearts weren’t stone cold.
“Look at me,” Gedeon said softly.
I stared at the peeling ceiling.
“Lookat me,” he demanded.
My throat closed up as I raised my head to meet his gaze.
“You did what you had to in order to survive. All of us have. I’m far from innocent myself. No one, I repeat,no oneis going to blame you for this. If they do, they will not stay alive for long. Do not let it eat you up.” He brushed along Zion’s burn scars, so careful, so gentle. A stark contrast to the bitterness in his laugh. “Once you do, there is no coming back.”
“We all do things we’re not proud of to survive,” Zion added, kneading my thumb symbolizing the last step of my and Alora’s plan. The one that had changed everything.
Five. I was afraid for my life.
I stared at the thumb curling around my fist. This last part hadn’t been in our original plan.
