Page 24 of A Grave Not Made For Mourning
It isn’t mine. I wonder if it’s Azaire’s. If maybe he’s waking up, or can somehow feel me and hopes to help.
It’s a kind thought—which is not something my mind often offers me—but it’s unlikely.
When I’m finished, I sit at the foot of his bed. I watch—his chest rising and falling in shallow rhythm. I feel nothing from him, as usual. And I contemplate, reaching for what isn’t there.
First and foremost, I make sure he isn’t in pain.
“Wake up, Azaire,” I find myself whispering, maybe to him, maybe to myself. “Please, wake up.”
His eyelashes flutter, and I sit up straighter, waiting for more. At first, nothing happens. Then, I feel a prickle in my hands. Something moving beneath my skin.
Him.
As if heeding my command, his eyes slowly flicker open. A smile breaks over his face like sunlight.
“Okay,” he mumbles, groggy, looking up at me in awe. “But only because you asked.”
I never knew I was worthy of such surprise.
“He could be the one,”the boy says.“Or just another one. You’re better off not knowing. Either way, it ends the same.”
I meet Azaire’s gaze, trying to see his eyes instead of the boy, who’s lingering nearby in my mind. But I can’t ignore the boy.
I can’t ignore him because he’s right.
It always ends the same.
“It’s fair to see you awake.”
“Yeah, I like seeing you awake, too,” Azaire mumbles, scratching his forehead, beneath his beanie.
Heat rises to my cheeks, and I take a deep breath. I don’t want to feel this, or what will happen if I let this go further. Because the boy is right: whatever this is, it ends in pain.
And I am better off not knowing that pain.
Every day I’ve come here, I’ve lived with the suffocating fear that Ican’tsave Azaire. And even if I did this time, I know one day I won’t. One day I’ll be too late, too weak, too feisty, maybe even too strong.
Maybe it will be mestayingto fight that gets him killed—like my mom.
Maybe it will be me touching him—like Xander.
“Azaire…” I trail off as I look away.
“Bad news first,” he says. When I glance back at him, he smiles again, but his heart isn’t in this one. “I try to end things on a positive note.”
“I don’t…” I shake my head, biting my wobbling lip. “I don’t think I have good news.”
Azaire’s eyebrows knit together, his mouth falling. “Oh.”
“We have to end here,” I mutter, the words shrinking in my throat.
All the joy seeps from his very marrow and, in turn, from my own, leaving me in grayscale.
“Why?” He sounds as sad as he feels.
I lick my lips, stuttering. “I-I don’t know how to do this—”
Azaire cuts me off. “Can you look at me?”
