sounds pierce my ears—Ramus’s and Bee’s screams.
I spin toward Teo, grabbing him by the arms. “What are you doing?” I scream. He must not realize what he’s done. “They’re on the other side,” I explain, because my Teo would never purposely let loose a lion on two people in a cage. He would never stand by and watch as a lion chews them up.
A sound like the jaws of hell opening up rings in my ears. It’s the lion, confined in a much too little space. Everything gets blurry—there’re people running and too many limbs. Abe’s dreadlocks brush my face as he runs past me. Romeo shouts his name, and I look around to see Abe trying to climb over the wall. But blue lights flash as Jonas presses the stun gun into their bodies, and there’s hardly any sound. It’s like they know they should be screaming, but everyone’s gone mute. Thinking, running. Jonas swings his stun gun much too fast.
Teo smiles, and I’m choking. It feels like I’ve been shot in the chest. This isn’t who he is. Teo would never do this. He loves and kisses me, saves us from the Living Rot, chats with me about the tales, makes me CDs, and helps me with my books.
There’s a thud; Abe’s body lies at my feet. I stare at him, at the dreadlocks fallen across his face, when there’s another thud; Cleo lies unconscious next to Abe now. Why is Jonas shocking everyone to the ground?
Pounding sounds on the other side of the wall—I stagger closer—but two strong hands hold me back. I pull on the arms, but it’s Marcus, his nails digging into my arm. A few paces off, I spot Teo, who’s sighing, smiling. Smiling .
Wrenching myself from Marcus’s fingers, I lunge at Teo’s face. Because this face is not the one I loved, salivated over for months. This person is not him. As soon as I make contact, though, Teo’s somehow grabbing my wrists, and his fingers are impossible to move. I try twisting, thrashing against his grasp, but he’s death itself, hollow, wearing a mask. Those black eyes aren’t seeing anything, only taking pleasure in the shrieks. Shrieks of living and breathing human beings, my friends, Ramus and Bee.
There’s a crash behind the wall, and Bee’s frantic voice drifts out, laced with fear and pain. She shrieks, the shrill sound imploding my ears, and I’m not sure how I’ll do it, but I know I have to get her out.
Twisting in Teo’s grasp, I scream, tears burning in my eyes, “Teo, you bastard, get them out!”
But he doesn’t hear me. He’s inclined his head a fraction to the right, in the opposite direction from me, as if purposely tuning me out.
So I dig my nails into his hands, and his grip loosens a bit, and I take the opportunity to wrench my hands away, racing straight for the wall.
I’m almost there, maybe two feet from the brick edge, when footsteps echo behind me. Bee shrieks a string of profanities before the lion roars and everything stops.
My heart pounds in my ears, my stomach clenches, and I can’t accept the sound, refuse to let my stomach empty out. Why has the screaming stopped? Maybe she’s found some cavity in the rock and is hiding— that’s why everything’s quiet now.
I reach for a peg; my foot finds another, and I’m just about to reach for another handhold when a large, calloused hand folds over mine. I try shaking the hand loose, but it grips harder, so I look up to find Marcus gently pulling me away.
“Cheyenne…” Marcus whispers, shaking his floppy-haired head. Liquid glistens in his eyes, but he doesn’t let the moisture fall—it’s trapped inside. Wrapping his arms around me, he pulls me away from the stage. Like a blanket around a hornet, he protects me from the elements and the elements from me.
I want to throw him, sting him where I stand, but I know he hasn’t done this. Bee’s no longer screaming, but not because of him. The man I thought I loved killed them. Killed. The word feels so wrong. It’s not possible for someone to do such a thing. Turning
I spin toward Teo, grabbing him by the arms. “What are you doing?” I scream. He must not realize what he’s done. “They’re on the other side,” I explain, because my Teo would never purposely let loose a lion on two people in a cage. He would never stand by and watch as a lion chews them up.
A sound like the jaws of hell opening up rings in my ears. It’s the lion, confined in a much too little space. Everything gets blurry—there’re people running and too many limbs. Abe’s dreadlocks brush my face as he runs past me. Romeo shouts his name, and I look around to see Abe trying to climb over the wall. But blue lights flash as Jonas presses the stun gun into their bodies, and there’s hardly any sound. It’s like they know they should be screaming, but everyone’s gone mute. Thinking, running. Jonas swings his stun gun much too fast.
Teo smiles, and I’m choking. It feels like I’ve been shot in the chest. This isn’t who he is. Teo would never do this. He loves and kisses me, saves us from the Living Rot, chats with me about the tales, makes me CDs, and helps me with my books.
There’s a thud; Abe’s body lies at my feet. I stare at him, at the dreadlocks fallen across his face, when there’s another thud; Cleo lies unconscious next to Abe now. Why is Jonas shocking everyone to the ground?
Pounding sounds on the other side of the wall—I stagger closer—but two strong hands hold me back. I pull on the arms, but it’s Marcus, his nails digging into my arm. A few paces off, I spot Teo, who’s sighing, smiling. Smiling .
Wrenching myself from Marcus’s fingers, I lunge at Teo’s face. Because this face is not the one I loved, salivated over for months. This person is not him. As soon as I make contact, though, Teo’s somehow grabbing my wrists, and his fingers are impossible to move. I try twisting, thrashing against his grasp, but he’s death itself, hollow, wearing a mask. Those black eyes aren’t seeing anything, only taking pleasure in the shrieks. Shrieks of living and breathing human beings, my friends, Ramus and Bee.
There’s a crash behind the wall, and Bee’s frantic voice drifts out, laced with fear and pain. She shrieks, the shrill sound imploding my ears, and I’m not sure how I’ll do it, but I know I have to get her out.
Twisting in Teo’s grasp, I scream, tears burning in my eyes, “Teo, you bastard, get them out!”
But he doesn’t hear me. He’s inclined his head a fraction to the right, in the opposite direction from me, as if purposely tuning me out.
So I dig my nails into his hands, and his grip loosens a bit, and I take the opportunity to wrench my hands away, racing straight for the wall.
I’m almost there, maybe two feet from the brick edge, when footsteps echo behind me. Bee shrieks a string of profanities before the lion roars and everything stops.
My heart pounds in my ears, my stomach clenches, and I can’t accept the sound, refuse to let my stomach empty out. Why has the screaming stopped? Maybe she’s found some cavity in the rock and is hiding— that’s why everything’s quiet now.
I reach for a peg; my foot finds another, and I’m just about to reach for another handhold when a large, calloused hand folds over mine. I try shaking the hand loose, but it grips harder, so I look up to find Marcus gently pulling me away.
“Cheyenne…” Marcus whispers, shaking his floppy-haired head. Liquid glistens in his eyes, but he doesn’t let the moisture fall—it’s trapped inside. Wrapping his arms around me, he pulls me away from the stage. Like a blanket around a hornet, he protects me from the elements and the elements from me.
I want to throw him, sting him where I stand, but I know he hasn’t done this. Bee’s no longer screaming, but not because of him. The man I thought I loved killed them. Killed. The word feels so wrong. It’s not possible for someone to do such a thing. Turning
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