Page 53 of Antihero
“You think you wouldn’t have?” I ask, and the quiet certainty of my voice draws her back, cuts off whatever sharp thing she was about to spit out. “Imagine if your sister had survived, onlyto turn into a monster because of the things that were done to her. Not a monster like you or me. But something worse. Maybe you wouldn’t be able to do it, like I couldn’t then. Maybe you'd do it when you should have, before the bodies piled up and the blood ran. Ormaybeyou’d have acted to save someone other than yourself!" My last shout is fading when I shrug, anything but casual. "Or maybe not."
Paige stares back at me, and I see her throat bob. Her eyes turn glassy, chest seeming to cave in on itself. The fight leaves her, hands falling lax, shoulders slumping. The first tears fall as she bites out the words, sobs them, “Theybotchedit.Her. They…” Hands coming to her face, over her mouth, she takes a shuddering breath. “She died because they didn’t care… they got it wrong.” Face hidden from me, her shoulders shake with a racking sob. “She died for a mistake. And they just… moved onto the next one. Like she didn’t matter. Like none of itmattered.” If any more words come, they’re illegible through her hands, her tears.
I’m with her then, folding her in my arms. I feel her lean into me, heavy with exhaustion and spent anger. Her body shaking. I hold her tight until I feel the emotions drain from her, her body going still, her head heavy on my chest, which is wet with her tears.
“You need sleep,” I say softly against the top of her head.
She makes a soft noise, not quite a protest, and I scoop her into my arms, carrying her to the bed as she wraps her arms around my neck. I throw the mess off the bed, and tuck the blanket all around her.
Her face turns into the pillow slightly, eyes closed. I resist the urge to stroke her cheek, turning back to the room. I clean up the rest of the space quietly, and she doesn’t stir. After checking once more that she’s still asleep, I go to my bag, where I left it against the door. Inside are my own spoils, my stash of waddedmoney, gems and jewellery courtesy of Tregam. It doesn’t take long to find hers, in a loose floorboard under the couch. I look down on her takings—fancy watches; rings; old, small antiques. The hood ornament of an old Mustang. That one I guess, is courtesy of Mr Filan.
Then, I add my riches to hers. I’d intended to give it to her tonight, to plead with her to leave this island behind. But now, seeing her the way she was… I know she won’t, that she can’t. Not until she’s done here. I close her box and replace the rug over the floorboard. When she’s ready to leave, it’ll all be there.
I crouch by the side of the bed, and brush the hair off Paige’s sleeping face, her eyelids fluttering, failing to open. “I didn’t mean it,” she murmurs. “You did the right thing, with the Cocooner.” She whispers the name my sister took like it could summon her if she says it too loudly. “I don’t know if I could’ve been that strong.”
I don’t know either. I’m glad she never has to find out.
“You’re strong, Paige,” I say softly. “I’ll leave you to get some rest…”
“No,” she murmurs, reaching out a blind hand. I let her find my fingers. “Stay.”
A small smile lifts the corner of my mouth. I slide down, sitting against the side of her bed. My head rests back against the edge of the mattress, my hand still held loosely my hers. “Alright. I’ll stay.” Right here, if need be.
“Why?” she breathes out the soft words, barely lucid with them, “Why are you here for me…”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I’m broken. There’s no… fixing me,” her words muffle more as she shifts, falling further into sleep. My hand slips free of hers as her fingers soften.
I tilt my head, looking at her peaceful face as she says no more. “I’d never want to fix you…” She doesn’t hear my next words,doesn’t feel my fingers on her cheek. “…never try to fix what I love.” Not anymore. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that trying to change others is futile. You’ve got to accept them. Or let go of your love for them.
My words are out now, their weight turned pleasant. I let my own eyelids close then, whispering, “And I’m broken, too.”
Chapter eleven
“Here? Not the usual room?” I ask as I sit across from Charlotte at a small table by the low window in the dining hall. At this hour, we’re some of the only ones in here, just a couple of other tenants lingering, reading, or staring into nothing on the other side of the room.
Charlotte looks up, one knee crossed over the other, her blonde hair straight and neat, her blouse pressed. And yet…
I frown at her. Something is wrong. Built up over the previous months, but this is the worst I’ve seen her. Her usually steady gaze flickers, her nails bitten down until the skin is red. She keeps her hands under the other side of the table, her notebook closed on top of it.
“There appears to have been a break-in on the other side of the castle,” she tells me. “A patient is missing. Just a harmless girl…" Her voice trails off, as does her attention. She comes back with a start. "They’re keeping everyone to their own rooms and the main rooms while they investigate.”
“Interesting.” I’ll have to ask Paige about the missing patient, though I struggle to imagine she murdered this 'harmless girl'.
“You haven’t heard about it?”
I shake my head once. “Nope.”
Charlotte’s gaze drops.
“You know the patient?”
Charlotte shrugs. “She had been here a long time.”
“From when you worked here?”
Her eyes cut to me, then narrow slightly. “I worked at the orphanage,” she corrects, voice steady.
