Page 116 of Fallen Thorns
I paused, lowering my head; hair falling in front of my eyes.What are we going to do? We can’t give it straight to Casper, but shouldn’t we? Seeing Ben’s writing will comfort him, right?But what’sinside?
I carefully picked up the box, its weight suspicious.
“We can’t just give it to him. What if it’s…” she stopped herself with a hand cupped over her mouth in a gasp.
“It’s light,” I said, putting it back down on the floor.
“And that’s supposed to be, what?Reassuring?” she snapped.
“I don’t know.”I honestly don’t know.
“Maybe we should just get rid of it? He doesn’t need to know,” Rani suggested, crossing her arms firmly across her chest, as if to hide the fact that she was now shaking. I could sense her fear. “It’s clearly another teaser, and she expects us to open it, to fall for the trap. If wedon’tthen we win, right?” She was not sure at all.
“Or we could open it,” I said, not quite liking the idea as it came out of my mouth, but I didn’t revoke the statement anyhow.
“Did you hear a word I just said?” Rani’s eyes widened.
“I did, but I think we should open it.”
Rani gulped, heart hammering.
“Well?” I waited for her to agree, the only thing that would have gotten me to follow through.
“We need to show Marianne,” she finally suggested.
After everything, we probably should.
“Okay,” I agreed, standing up with the box in hand. “Okay.”
“Dear lord.”
I rested the box before Marianne, who we found in the painting clad room, pacing. She’d been out all night with the rest of us. We were never giving in.
“I don’t want Casper to open it alone,” I said. Rani nodded beside me.
“I understand that.” Marianne bent down and lifted up the package. She held it above her head and analysed the base before shaking it a little — something I was too anxious to do.
Something shifted and rattled inside, but it offered no clear indication to its contents.
Setting the box down again, Marianne traced the font with her finger.
“That’s Ben’s handwriting.” She pursed her lips deep in thought.
“Meaning he’s still alive, right?” I asked hopefully, as if she knew the answer.
Marianne looked back at me, then briefly to Rani. The next instant, she swiped a sharp nail across the tape seam and ripped open the flaps on either side of the box. The two of us instinctively backed up, as if preparing for a jack in the box, but as Marianne pulled away the silky, black material used to pad the contents, we watched as her hand reemerged with a small silver tin. She held it by the tips of her fingers like it was scolding hot, the ornate container was made from the purest of silver. She grimaced.
“Ben’s okay, right?” Rani asked, less confident now.
Marianne didn’t acknowledge her, instead lifting the box to her nose. She pulled an unsure face.
I had no idea what to expect, but my mind drew the worst conclusion.
Setting it down onto the table beside her, Marianne leaned forward. The tin, no bigger than one used to hold cigars, rested perfectly at her eye level.
Her next movement shocked us more than anything had that day. She jumped up and ripped off the lid, but it was only when she staggered back and tripped to the floor that my insides lurched and I gasped at what fell out and rolled to the floor…
An eyeball: sloppy and fresh, the optic nerve still dangling from it.
