Page 125 of A Grave Not Made For Mourning
alista barges into my room without warning, but it’s no surprise. Her anxiety has been buzzing through the suite. The door slams shut and I look up, taking a few deep breaths to steady myself. Her nerves tickle me, the hair on my arms rising.
She cracks her knuckles, the sound like snapping bones as she paces my room. I watch from my desk. Words sputter from her mouth, but they aren’t cohesive.
Then she sighs, stopping in her tracks. “I told Lilac.”
I sit up, trying to act surprised. “That’s great,” I say, but my voice shakes—something is wrong.
“Itwasgreat,” Calista corrects me, flopping onto my bed. She stares at the ceiling absentmindedly. “It was great.”
Something went very, very wrong. I back away, without meaning to. Guilt steals me, but I try to return myself. I don’t know the circumstances yet.
This might not be my fault.
But I know—I feel the panic, the sadness, the rage.
She tips her head toward me, her eyes stinging with tears. “Our parents found out…Again.This time, Mother didn’t let us off easily.”
Quickly, she wipes the tears from her cheek.
“Do you want to talk?” I rise from my desk and sit next to her.
“No,” she sighs. “Yes.” She shakes her head. “It would be pointless.”
“Emotions aren’t pointless.” I worry she hears the pity in my voice.
“Maybe not to someone who wields them.” Calista’s voice is flat. “But to the rest of us, they’renothing more than a nuisance.” She flips onto her stomach, chin propped up in her palm, eyes far away. “I don’t even know why I told Lilac. I knew exactly how it would end—Mother would take her memories.”
I open my mouth to reply, but nothing comes out.
I swallow a shaky breath, anxiety creeping up my spine. How quickly will she start piecing things together? A part of herhasto know what I’ve done; it’s still there, buried. She’s a Folk, a being who controls memories. If she wanted to find it, she could.
When I find the courage, I ask, “Wh–what did your mother do?”
Though, I’m not sure I want to know—to feel any more responsible.
Calista scoffs a humorless laugh. “She made Lilac believe I left her horribly.”
Her gaze moves, distant, and her body goes cold, chilling in my veins, as if the words themselves drained the life from her. She shuts herself off from the world like a tourniquet, cutting off the pain before it can reach her.
“Instead of me telling her the truth…” Calista trails off, her voice breaking. “I told her a lie. In Lilac’s memory, I told her I never loved her.” She sighs, a long, tired exhale. “Gods, if you could feel her... My heart shattered in that moment, but I can’t even begin to imagine what it did to hers.”
I sit back, eyes widening even as I don’t mean them to. I wanted to do something good.
Didn’t I?
I forced Calista to tell Lilac the truth because I felt what they were missing without the other. Wasn’t my intention entirely unselfish? How could good intentions turn so sour?
“Calista,” I breathe. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”
She sits up abruptly, her posture straightening as she brushes off my apologies. “I’m not common swine,” she hisses,her voice laced with authority. “Don’t use such language with me.”
“Calista—”
“Don’t.” She turns sharply in my direction. This time, her eyes lock onto mine, a piercing gaze. She studies me for a moment too long, then, beneath her breath, mutters, “What is happening with you?”
“N-nothing,” I stammer. “I just—I feel bad.”
“Normally you’re like a chameleon. But not today.” She lies back on the bed, a sneer curling at the corner of her lips. “It’s strange.”
