Page 101 of A Grave Not Made For Mourning
I pop the button of my gloves, and Pa steps back, nodding. If he sees for himself, he might answer, finally answer. I pull the left glove from my palm.
He’s older; he must be stronger. He’s myfather. I am half of him—his power is half of mine. He must know how to deflect.
I pull the right glove from my palm.
Still, I steady my shields around myself, trapping the beast inside me behind bars. Holding my magic back as much as I can.
And I hold out my hands.
Pa grabs them, closes his eyes, and for a moment I only feel… me. For a moment I see it, my goal for the Weapon and all the ways it isn’t altruistic. All the ways it’s just a little girl calling out for her mom, one last time. A last plea to remember her.
Then it all goes away.
Stripped like the pigment of fabric, bleached by the sun.
I open my eyes, realizing now I’d closed them. He’s doing to me what I swore never to do to others. A vow I’ve broken, and now my empty promises are being repaid.
My hands struggle to break free from his grip.
“Pa.” My voice shakes. “Don’t. Please don’t.” I keep tugging, but he won’t let go.
He won’t let go.
I can’t let go.
Don’t make me let go.
“I’m sorry, Little Thorn.” He meets my gaze. “But from here on out, you feel nothing concerning the Weapon, or your mother’s involvement.”
He drops my hand.
For a second, I’m angry. Blood boiling.
And then I can’t remember why I didn’t want to let go.
I can’t remember how I felt at all.
The world is a haze, as if a cloud has settled before my eyes. Blankly, I stare at Pa. He hugs me, asking, “How do you feel?”
My gaze drifts past his shoulder, settling on the ashen wood stacked in the fireplace, behind the green couch.
“Nothing,” I tell him.
It’s not the right answer, but it’s the only answer I can figure out.
“You are missing a piece of yourself, but I am still here,”the boy says, as if he could feel how lost I’ve become. As if he wants to be my map.
“What’s happened?”I ask him.
“It is time for us to move on.”
The walk through my hometown is a daze, like walking through a cloud, but somehow the water clings to me, making each step heavy. Pa leaves me at the community mirror, and I portal back to the academy. It feels like there should be something more I want to do.
I walk to Azaire’s room and knock on the door until he opens it. He thinks something is wrong—cantellsomething is wrong—but I don’t know what’s wrong. Yuki sits on his bed, and I look past him, crashing into Azaire’s arms. His body holds me up. I’m this tired?
Azaire pulls away slowly, holding onto my face. My cheeks are in his hands, and his eyes search mine as he asks, “Wendy?”
I feel like a blank slate, waiting to be filled.
