Page 131 of A Grave Not Made For Mourning
I cry. Gods, I scream. It does nothing to alleviate the weight in my chest. I crash to the floor, tears streaming until they soak my chest. I claw at my eyes, needing the crying to stop.
I nearly rip my hair out.
I’ve already ripped my heart out.
The boy continues to pry at my brain, and I can’t take it. Rivaling emotions claw at me.
One wants to run for Azaire.
One needs to run far away.
But I think I know how best to ease the pain—the confusion and contradictions. The boy’s proposition always made sense to me, even when I tried to pretend it didn’t. Because if I can’t be with the living without endangering them, there is only one other option.
And the boy always knew it.
Do what you must with him before you come to me.That’s what the boy said, and he was right—he always has been. Even as I know his accuracy, I wish to deny it. I wish I never created him. But perhaps if he was his own being, if he was no longer in my mind, I could have company without it being doused in my own shortcomings. Without every one of my mistakes and contradictions adding oil to an already blazing fire.
Perhaps I’ve always wanted to bring him to life—and perhaps that’s part of the problem. Maybe that’s why he ever asked me to begin with.
I rise, grabbing my bag and walking to the door.
“Are you really going through with this?”the boy asks.
“I’m tired of being alone.”
The door shuts behind me, the sound final.
?
The moon is high in the sky tonight, bright in a way that makes lanterns unnecessary. I walk through the woods, but not beyond the protective barrier. Not that it’s doing any good, anyhow.
A kapha already got through today.
The academy is on lockdown. No one is supposed to be out of their suites. I was careful walking through the halls and garden. Nobody was there to stop me.
There are, with absolute certainty, monsters in the woods tonight. I doubt I’ll be lucky enough to avoid them. But I think I’m strong enough to face whatever comes my way. I’m certainly reckless enough to not care about the outcome.
I stop just shy of the barrier, throwing my bag on the grass.
In a circle, I settle a dozen candles and light them, surrounding myself with flickering flames. I’m not sure they will be of any use. What I’m planning to do is stronger than any little flame.
I’m planning to bring a figment of my imagination to life.
“I am more than that,”the boy reminds me.
In the real world, I nod. In my mind, I say,“I believe you.”
Lowering myself to the ground, I sit in the center of the flames, their warmth radiating all around me. As I close my eyes, I don’t leave the dimly lit woods. The only difference here is that the boy stands before me, his face glowing with the candles’ orange light, the trees swaying in the wind behind him.
“Just like we practiced before.”He extends his hands toward me.“Just like the trees.”
The moment my skin meets his, my head tips back, hanging at an angle. My blood begins to bubble, surging through me. It flows through my arms, into his hands, each of my nerves going numb as it simmers past. The boy lets out a low groan, my power and life spilling into him. I feel his satisfaction.
I force my head forward, desperate to meet his gaze. But his head has fallen back, his dark lips parted.
“Wendy?”a voice calls—something beyond my mind, in the real world. “What are you doing out here?”
In my hands, the boy’s grasp begins to change. Never before had I realized how immaterial he felt before, not until there are two nearly fleshen hands in mine. Holding me. His gaze continues to search the sky, his body shifting in and out between shadow and human.
