Page 62 of Rawest Venom

As if it is a complete struggle to even move his lips, he barely whispers, “Kill me.”

“What? No! Which one? Red or blue? Cal, pay attention! Which one is the antivenom? Red or blue?” My training kicks in, but behind it is more desperation now.

His eyes shut between each of my questions. Again, he squeaks out his last reply. “Let me go. I don’t deserve to live. I am the poison.”

Gritting my teeth, I shake him until his eyelids look at me for a moment. If he dies, it would be so easy for me to live. I’d have completed my mission. But there wasnevera time I was going to go through with it. I’d rather have died myself, if only to let him survive.

“Fuck, Cal. No! No! You’re not fucking dying. Which one, goddamn it! Which one? I’m not letting you go. I love you! Please, Cal, please. I love you!” Clutching the blue vial, I unscrew the cap. “Please don’t leave me. You saved me once. Please. Please don’t leave me here alone. I can’t do this without you.”

Tears stream down my face, and I can barely see what I’m doing as sobs wrack my chest, leaving me choking for air. I can’t lose him. I just can’t. I cough, holding the blue vial to his carotid. Taking a steadying breath, I plunge it into his artery and wait.

He doesn’t move.

Pumping his chest with my hands, I start CPR. Will this make it worse? Will it spread the poison? I don’t care. I have to do something. Pounding with my fists on his hard chest, I cry repeatedly, “Please don’t leave me. I love you! Please don’t leave. I choose you!”

He lies still until I throw my body on top of him and break down, the sheer terror of losing him sinking me quickly into a black hole of despair. Snot rolls off my nose and onto his sweatshirt, the wetness in my eyes pooling on his body.

If he dies, I don’t want to be alive.

Twenty-Four

CALUM

Edges.

That’s all I feel. Cusps and rounded corners. Falling off a log.

My brain says to lift my chest, so I do even as something heavy resists the rise. Lift and relax. Lift and relax. Lift… It’s all I know. The edge of alive and death.

The cure…

My puppet must have given it to me, even when I asked her not to. She chose well. She chose me. And I can smell spring with every inhale. Newness and the sun.

Despite everything, she thinks I’m worth saving. And maybe I am for West Side and for my bride. Perhaps, I am of some use.

“Please, please, please…” The sobs of her suffering echo through the ether, and I don’t want her to be in pain. Not anymore. She’s seen enough of it for a lifetime. For ten!

But down off the cliff, I can barely reach her. If she loves me and she wants me, I need to crawl my wayback for her. She won’t survive without me. The vultures and the owls will descend and rip her apart, stealing what life she has left. Clawing up the overhang of darkness, I can just grasp her. That death wish had become such a part of my identity; it feels strange to leave it behind. The further I am from it, the closer my holiday fantasy jingles in my ears and the closer I am to that Unnamed. Peace.

Struggling to the surface, my consciousness takes form, and her warmth encompasses me everywhere. Like a shield around me, she protects me. My cure.

Pursing my lips, soothing ocean sounds escape my mouth with some deal of effort. “Shh, puppet.”

“Oh my god. You’re alive?” Her breath hits my face like a splash of hot water stirring me awake.

My eyelids are cumbersome to raise, but I force them open as my fingers begin to twitch back to life. Most of my thoughts are consumed by remembering to breathe, but in the dim light, I’m also able to focus on her terrified face. My savior, Veracity.

“Cal! Can you hear me? Say something!” Tears run down her cheeks, only visible by a tiny piece of moonlight that’s crept among the trees surrounding us. She’s lifting me by my shirt in her fists, the object blocking my chest movement straddling my waist.

The first words I can muster are the most important. Ones I will never take back. These are forever and the sounds my soul needs to set free. “I love you.”

Practically dropping me, she quickly grips me tighter and pulls me to a sit. “Wha-what?”

“I love you. You chose me. You saved me.”

In a flurry of passion, she presses her warm lips onto mine, breathing air into my lungs and reviving me fully with a delicate swing of her tongue. My arms are able to wrap around her now, fingers weaving through her soft red strands. We collapse back onto the ground as a unit, her face filled with awe as she stares down at me, inspecting me with wonder.

“Well, now we’re even. I love you, Cal. I thought you died.” A melody only Mozart could write. Her words wind themselves into the depths of my being, soothing the wounds I’ve never been able to heal. I had to die in order to be reborn, to live with her in the way I have wanted to for so long. Now that I have been made anew, I choose life just as vehemently as she chose me. Everything she told me was indeed the truth. She’s the first real thing in my life.

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