Page 134 of A Grave Not Made For Mourning
My first kill.
“You have suppressed the parts of yourself you dislike so deeply, they had to come out in one way or another,”he says.
“No—”
“Go save your friends before they get themselves killed.”He raises a hand, shooing me away, and my eyes open—not of my volition.
I stand, unsteady on my feet—confused at what the boy is, what I’ve done to myself, what I’ve created.
Have I driven myself to insanity by the simple action of repression?
He’s my darkness. My contradictions. How is it possible that I didn’t know this? How could I have missed it?
My mind isn’t in love with me. My mind pities me. My mind thinks I’minsane.
My mind is trying to save me, in the only way it knows how—by making me worse.
What have I done?
Something gnaws through my stomach. The same pit the boy pointed out before I felt it. Someone is in danger. The worm eats a pit in my stomach, warning me.
Then I spot Calista in the distance. She’s past the protective barrier, deep into the woods—and I know that monsters are lurking out there. One even got past.
I chase after her, grateful for a reason to ignore myself. Perhaps that’s the problem.
“Calista!” I call. She doesn’t stop. “Calista, where are you going?”
I run faster, grabbing her shoulder when I reach her. She smacks my arm away roughly.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” she hisses.
“Calista—”
“The moonaro is still out there!” she shouts, pointing aimlessly into the woods.
“So you want to get yourself killed?”
“No!” She chokes on her breath. Her hand clamps over her mouth as she turns away from me. Desperately, she takes a sip of air, then turns back. “Lilac won’t wake up. I thought… maybe the monster has to be killed first.”
I reach for her, holding her wrist so she doesn’t run—trying to save her the way the boy told me to. The pit in my stomach is still there, the worm still eating through me. I fear if I let Calista out of my sight, she will die, just like the boy said.
“If that was the case, don’t you think the scholars who study the monsters would have found out?” I ask, trying to talk some form of sense into her.
“There haven’t been attacks in decades,” she says indignantly. “How am I to trust their studies?”
“Your parents pay for them.”
“My parents are insane!” She glances at my hand clamped around her wrist, and I know she’s strong enough to pull away, but she says, “Help, or let me go.”
She truly wants my help.
I fear she will need it. Only one of us here has killed a monster. Awfully, I think I enjoyed it. But the dread—the carcass in my stomach—aches, and I know even if I didn’t enjoy the kill, I still wouldn’t leave Calista.
“Okay.” I nod. “I’ll help.”
Calista’s face softens, and I feel her relief settle in my muscles. An appreciated reprieve. “Really?”
