reinitiating.
blueJacketredlight
isShecAge
dawnbirdpapercrimson . . .
Rose.
Booting up senses, diagnostic.
Reboot complete.
Rose felt the icy water all over. She swallowed it, breathed it in. It worked its way into her nose and eyes. Her eyes were open, but all she saw was blackness.
For the first time, she heard nothing.
Darkness and silence.
A hand grabbed her wrist and began to pull.
Charlie pushed up toward the light. It was amazing — the force of life, to the urge to stay living. He burst through the surface, holding her wrist tightly with both hands, and pulled her up, up. She was awkward and so heavy, and he felt himself sinking. But somehow he would make it to shore with her on his back, her arms wrapped around his neck.
The room was empty. Rose was alone in the room. Rose was alone.
David had just gone. She was naked, mouth open, breath coming in shallow quivers. The arrow in her mind, unbending, pointed to where David had stood, where now a yellow wedge shone beneath the door. She didn’t know how long she stared before her hands began to move. They gathered her dress and sheathed her in its dark silk. She burst into the hallway, bumping a kissing couple, and ran to the hall window, throwing herself against the glass. David’s Nightbird was pulling away, onto the driveway and into the night.
“She’s drunk,” the boy said.
“Dean, be nice.”
Rose rushed past them and down into the throng. Her vision was blurring, turning red. Wrong, her mind told her. She pushed through the crowd. People stared. Forbidden. She was outside, tripping into the mud.
“Whoa, you OK?” someone asked.
Go back. The voice pursued her down the driveway, hammering her temples, turning the world — the world without David — into a smoldering inferno. No more tiny halos. The sky was red, the night burned.
A car’s headlights blinded her. A horn blared. She stumbled into the woods, wiping at her eyes. She was lost. Her arrow spun, searching for her boy, but couldn’t find him. And every moment away from him was wrong.
She felt as if her head would explode. Her mind wrestled with the impossible tangle. She was made for David; she was not made for David. She must return to him. She must please him. To be with him displeased him. She was impossible; life impossible.
She didn’t know how long she wandered. Dawn came with horrible glaring sunlight. How had she ever thought it pretty? She wished for dark clouds. And it was then she came through the brush and saw the still black water and made a choice, her first real choice: to jump.
“Dad! Dad!”
Charlie guided her back into Thaddeus’s lab. His father was nowhere in sight. He laid her gently on the couch. There were blankets in the closet. He wrapped herup, letting the water soak into the musty fabric. Charlie checked the thermostat. Dead. The power was still out.
What she needed was heat, hot water. The Bunsen burners ran on gas, but with the power out, he needed a spark.
“Stay there.”
Her gaze was empty, her skin the color of fresh newspaper.
Please, God, please don’t let her die.
There was a box of matches in a kitchen drawer. The burner lit on the first try, the flame prancing above the metal tubing. He grabbed a tumbler from the shelf and filled it with tap water. Not big enough to put her feet in, but he could tuck it under the blankets to warm her up. Her breathing was raspy, which could mean pneumonia. But at least she
was
breathing.
Charlie sat on the floor, his face inches from hers.
“What’s your name?”
No response.
“Why were you up there?”
Nothing.
“Can you hear me?”
Bubbles rose in the bell-shaped tumbler. Charlie wrapped the hot glass in a towel to keep it from burning her and tucked it by her feet.
“Let me know if that’s too hot. But we’ve got to keep you warm. I don’t want you to freeze to death.” Words worked their way out of him, like the bubbles in the boiling water. “This is what they used to do in
blueJacketredlight
isShecAge
dawnbirdpapercrimson . . .
Rose.
Booting up senses, diagnostic.
Reboot complete.
Rose felt the icy water all over. She swallowed it, breathed it in. It worked its way into her nose and eyes. Her eyes were open, but all she saw was blackness.
For the first time, she heard nothing.
Darkness and silence.
A hand grabbed her wrist and began to pull.
Charlie pushed up toward the light. It was amazing — the force of life, to the urge to stay living. He burst through the surface, holding her wrist tightly with both hands, and pulled her up, up. She was awkward and so heavy, and he felt himself sinking. But somehow he would make it to shore with her on his back, her arms wrapped around his neck.
The room was empty. Rose was alone in the room. Rose was alone.
David had just gone. She was naked, mouth open, breath coming in shallow quivers. The arrow in her mind, unbending, pointed to where David had stood, where now a yellow wedge shone beneath the door. She didn’t know how long she stared before her hands began to move. They gathered her dress and sheathed her in its dark silk. She burst into the hallway, bumping a kissing couple, and ran to the hall window, throwing herself against the glass. David’s Nightbird was pulling away, onto the driveway and into the night.
“She’s drunk,” the boy said.
“Dean, be nice.”
Rose rushed past them and down into the throng. Her vision was blurring, turning red. Wrong, her mind told her. She pushed through the crowd. People stared. Forbidden. She was outside, tripping into the mud.
“Whoa, you OK?” someone asked.
Go back. The voice pursued her down the driveway, hammering her temples, turning the world — the world without David — into a smoldering inferno. No more tiny halos. The sky was red, the night burned.
A car’s headlights blinded her. A horn blared. She stumbled into the woods, wiping at her eyes. She was lost. Her arrow spun, searching for her boy, but couldn’t find him. And every moment away from him was wrong.
She felt as if her head would explode. Her mind wrestled with the impossible tangle. She was made for David; she was not made for David. She must return to him. She must please him. To be with him displeased him. She was impossible; life impossible.
She didn’t know how long she wandered. Dawn came with horrible glaring sunlight. How had she ever thought it pretty? She wished for dark clouds. And it was then she came through the brush and saw the still black water and made a choice, her first real choice: to jump.
“Dad! Dad!”
Charlie guided her back into Thaddeus’s lab. His father was nowhere in sight. He laid her gently on the couch. There were blankets in the closet. He wrapped herup, letting the water soak into the musty fabric. Charlie checked the thermostat. Dead. The power was still out.
What she needed was heat, hot water. The Bunsen burners ran on gas, but with the power out, he needed a spark.
“Stay there.”
Her gaze was empty, her skin the color of fresh newspaper.
Please, God, please don’t let her die.
There was a box of matches in a kitchen drawer. The burner lit on the first try, the flame prancing above the metal tubing. He grabbed a tumbler from the shelf and filled it with tap water. Not big enough to put her feet in, but he could tuck it under the blankets to warm her up. Her breathing was raspy, which could mean pneumonia. But at least she
was
breathing.
Charlie sat on the floor, his face inches from hers.
“What’s your name?”
No response.
“Why were you up there?”
Nothing.
“Can you hear me?”
Bubbles rose in the bell-shaped tumbler. Charlie wrapped the hot glass in a towel to keep it from burning her and tucked it by her feet.
“Let me know if that’s too hot. But we’ve got to keep you warm. I don’t want you to freeze to death.” Words worked their way out of him, like the bubbles in the boiling water. “This is what they used to do in
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