Page 112 of A Rising Hope

“Well, you could’ve fooled me. You look like shit,” she uttered, her voice lacking its usual zing.

“That makes two of us, cousin.” I bumped her with my shoulder, the forced smile on my lips weighted down by the tight heartache in my chest.

Minutes passed as we sat in silence.

“Why, Zora, why?” I murmured into the silence. There were no repercussions in my voice, just grief. “Twelve years. Twelve fucking years staying away from the Numb.”

“Don’t you think I know . . . I fucked up Gideon. Ireallyfucking fucked up,” she lamented. “I fucked up everything.” Her voice trembled. “I ruined it all.” She cried. Sorrow and hurt all mixed in salty drops, as silver tears streamed down her face. For the first time since we were children, I saw my cousin weep.

“You are okay. You’ll be okay, Zora,” I mumbled. My heart broke as grief and anguish flooded the tiny space. “Shhh . . . ” I wrapped my arm around her, comforting her.

“Gia died . . . and you were gone and . . . and . . . he’ll never forgive me, Gideon.” Zora’s words, full of agony, mixed between her cries as her body shook in my embrace. “Gia is dead . . . He shouldn’t forgive me.”

A part of me wished I had the perfect magical answer that would heal her shattered soul.

I wished that I could take away the hurt and that pain.

I wished I could fight the battle for her, share the burden that she carried every single day.

But I couldn’t, so she cried, and I listened.

“Why am I so fucked up, Gideon?” she whispered into the darkness. “Why must I live my life struggling with something most people find a use for? Why do my flaws hurt those around me? Why me? Why?” she sobbed.

“I don’t know, Zora,” I answered honestly. I stared at the poorly constructed ceiling; noticing how the rotten wooden planks were ready to collapse any day.

She cried and all I could do was hold her. Minutes, hours, as long as she needed.

“Do you remember what I told you that day twelve years ago when I found you drunk with that terrible,hideousnew tattoo? You were plastered on the streets of Svitar Slums, pursuing anything, anyone that would make you feel alive even if it was only for a split moment?” I asked when her sobs quieted.

“‘Did you have to get a tattoo on your face, Zora?’ or ‘it’s the worst tattoo I’ve ever seen’?” she sniffled, rubbing her eyes.

“Yes, and?” The corner of my lip curved upward even as my chest felt heavy, reminiscent of the memory.

“If I was going to whore around I should’ve at least charged for it, then I’d have money to pay for better quality booze.” This time Zora was the one with a faded smirk on her face.

“Good gods, sixteen-year-old me really knew how to give speeches, didn’t I? Who knew you were actually paying attention then?” I ran my hand through my hair a few times, not quite thrilled with my piss-poor speech to her so many years ago. “But what else?”

“Sometimes to live means to survive the day, and to win means, at times, to not fall.”

“Yes, but there was one more thing.” I found her black eyes, her chin quivered, and her tears made burrows in her muddiedcheeks. “I said no matter how far you think you’ve fallen, no matter how much you think you’ve strayed away, no matter how unforgivable you think your transgressions are, there is always going to be one person on your side, no matter how ugly it got.”

“You?”

“Me.”

Zora swallowed hard. She leaned back against the cold wall, legs stretched. Both of us stared at the empty nothingness of the room.

“Remember when you were ten and your father kicked you out in the middle of winter to live outside for a week, for not being able to light up a dinner candle with your powers?”

“And you set our entire home on fire by lighting up every single candle we had in our house all at once when you came to visit and found me freezing outside? Yes, I remember.”

“I was eight, but I must say that was an elaborate revenge.” A faint sound resembling a chuckle filled the cramped space.

“Your uncle was so pissed.”

“It definitely didn’t help him in his efforts to convince your father to support my future claim to the throne. But do you remember what we promised each other as we watched the servants screech and yell while everything went up in raw flames?”

Zora nodded.

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