Page 5 of A Fate so Wicked

My body froze mid-movement when I turned around.

Blood dripped from my mother’s mouth. Deep crimson was splattered across her white comforter and thick droplets sprayed her upper body.

My breath caught as Lilian’s mangled limbs slammed into my mind’s eye. The haunting expression in her eyes. The terror that tore through me. I thought I’d moved past it—accepted it at least—but there was so much blood.

The experience was so vivid that it felt as if I’d been transported back in time to that very moment. Fear completely overtook me, rendering me unable to move.

My mother coughed again, breaking me from my trance, and I blinked away the images, remembering how to breathe again.

“Oh, my stars! What happened?” I jumped into action, yanking the blankets down to assess the situation, but my brain was a muddled mess. She’d never coughed up so much blood before.

Another lighter cough spilled from her lips, and more blood ran down her chin.

Wiping my shaky hands along my sleep shirt, I scanned the room with wild eyes, figuring out where to begin. “I-It’s okay. Let’s clean you up, get you to the infirmary. You’re going to be fine.” Everything is going to be fine. “I’ll go?—”

She clicked her tongue, swatting me away. “Don’t be rash, my throat’s dry from all the coughing. I’m fine.” My mother settled into bed, perfectly content, and fluffed her pillows to her liking.

“Coughing fit my ass,” I mumbled under my breath as I stalked over to her dresser, rummaging through her medicine basket for her figroot tonic. It was the only thing that made a difference in times like these. Bottle after bottle clinked together—there had to be over twenty different ones in that damn thing, and my trembling fingers couldn’t hold on to a damn one. “You haven’t been taking the medicines I leave out, have you?”

Silence.

I peered over my shoulder, and she averted her gaze, fiddling with the blanket as I pulled out an empty figroot bottle.

More. I should’ve done more. Berating myself for my lack of caution, I ran a hand along my face. I’d been so shaken up over Lilian’s death, I must’ve forgotten to get some of her medicine refilled. How could I let this slip through the cracks? It was my responsibility to take care of her, and I’d failed.

I failed.

All because I was too absorbed in my misery to notice, and now my mother’s health was in jeopardy.

I took a deep gulp, clenching the frigid, hollow glass bottle in my hand, the weight of guilt flooding my chest. “I didn’t realize. There must be five different tonics in here that need refilling.” It took me a moment to work up the courage to face her. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve gone back to Mari’s.”

“Because it’s unnecessary, child. I’m fine.”

I scoffed, my tone matching the frustration that scratched beneath the surface. “You keep saying that, but it’s not. It’s not fine. Look at your bed!” Pacing the room, I rubbed my temples to regain my composure. “I understand you don’t want me to worry, and I appreciate it, but I already do. Stop fighting me every step of the way.” You’re making it worse, I wanted to say.

A silent beat passed before she nodded, resigning to my demands, and I loosened a breath. She’d always been stubborn. However, it’d only gotten worse when she became ill. I tried to empathize, but it didn’t make it any less disheartening. Especially when my efforts had gone unappreciated. Unwanted. I was tired of pretending it didn’t bother me that my mother didn’t care about her fate. That she didn’t care to fight. She was the only person I had left.

I needed her.

“Okay, then. Let’s get this cleaned up, and I’ll head into town to get it filled.”

Leading her into the bathroom, I dampened a rag, wiping her neck and face clean of residual blood before bringing her a change of clothes. I wasn't prepared to face the loss of my mother, but with each passing day, the looming, oppressive cloud grew larger and more burdensome. Rationalizing it hadn’t helped either. No amount of reason could make any of this better. The best, most logical thing to do would be to prepare for the inevitable.

But how? How could I compartmentalize a lifetime of memories and feelings to arrange for something so final?

I guided her back into the bedroom to fit the bed with new sheets and helped her into it, making sure she had everything she could possibly need at arm’s length. It was unlikely she’d bother with any of it, even if she required it for comfort, but I wouldn’t stop hoping she would.

I still wished she would fight … for me.

“I’ll be home in about two hours, okay? Maybe sooner,” I said, setting a kiss on her forehead. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Smartass. Please be careful.” She squeezed her eyelids shut in pain as she laughed.

My horse, Sugarfoot, was in her favorite spot under the oak tree, grazing on the only remaining patch of shaded grass. She was a birthday present from a distant family friend. Gifted to me when I’d turned five years old, we’d been inseparable ever since. My companion was a righteous pain in the ass most days. However, she understood me better than most.

I fastened my cloak around my shoulders to protect my arms from the rising sun and rolled my eyes. She had an entire field to roam, yet opted for that one desolate section. Either she was incredibly lazy—or spoiled rotten.

Little did she know I hadn’t come barring apple slices, so the joke was on her.

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