Page 45 of Icy Heart, Empty Chest
She glared. “I told you I had to get into his ribs! How else did you think I would do it?”
I had no idea. I just shook my head in terror. I refused to let the nerves get the best of me. I refused to give up on him. I swallowed down the bile that was rising in my mouth.
Corrus was watching me. For once I didn’t mind the bird’s presence. I’d take as much familiarity in this circus as I could get.
“Cora. I’m going to touch my crystals and start the incantation. We’re going to get started now. Are you ready?” Was I ready for this? Absolutely not.
“Yes.” A quiet little croak.
The ceiling went dark. All the doors slammed. Corrus squawked excitedly.
The wind whipped up in the room as Filla placed her hands on the crystals. I looked around, confused.
“Keep your hands on the crystals!” she barked. I jumped. They were still on them but I clamped on tighter—a vice grip.
Filla moved to Damien’s head and started chanting. It was ancient sounding, guttural, like nothing I’d ever heard before. This one she seemed to know by heart. I kept watching warily as the wind battered against me, driving stands of blue hair free of my braid. It was a solid minute of rhythmic chanting before she stopped and looked at me.
“I’m going to let go of the crystals now. You may feel a bit of a power whip.”
She took one hand off and then the other. It nearly drove me to my knees again. The lightning whips before had felt much lighter. This was heavier. I could feel a vacuum sensation.
“Don’t let the crystal absorb your energy, Cora. Push it back,” she ordered.
I summoned my magic and pushed toward my left hand.
“Again!”
I repeated, getting more tired of the suction.
She seemed more satisfied. Filla went off to the side of the room and pulled a cart closer, laying linen down on it.
“Whatever I do, little nymph, do not let go. Right now, you are his heart pump and you are his life.”
No pressure.
I didn’t have a way to express my determination and my absolute terror at the scene that was before me. I saw multiple knives on her cart and vowed to close my eyes when she laid a hand on the bolt cutters. I looked down at him.
Damien’s color had improved between the crystals and my own influence. I had noticed a healthier glow to his skin. It was a small relief. His hair was moving in the air flow and his breath seemed to be deep and even. Could he feel pain? Did he know I was there?
Filla picked up a knife and looked at me. “Brace yourself if you must.”
I could only look on as she put the knife between his clavicles and made a long even cut down his breastbone. She had to go back over it, repeating the slice, cutting the layered tissue away. There was no blood being spilled that I could see.
“The magic keeps the blood inside.” She knew what I was gawking at without taking her eyes off him. Soon I saw the stark white of bone. I shivered. I don’t know if it was wind whipping up during the winter months, my cooling sweat or the fact that the person I loved most was in field surgery before me. She proceeded to start to cut down on the muscle in his upper chest, forming a large triangular.
She grabbed another knife and started to cut into the muscle tissue, cutting down enough to form a large flap. Once muscle and fat had been sheared from bone, she took hold of the tissues and roughly pinned them back to his chest so that the flap exposed the rib beneath. I shuddered violently but didn’t let go. It was a strange thought that I could see his lung moving.
Filla grabbed the bolt cutters and got on the table, straddling him. I let out a tiny squeak of protest.
“Trust me. You will not want to see this. Close your eyes. The sounds are bad enough,” she said roughly.
I could see her slip the blades of the cutters near the white surface. The sickening crack that resulted brought tears to my eyes. My stomach churned, burning with acid. The next few cuts brought more tears out and I gave up on looking at her back.
“Think of good times with him, little one. I can feel you struggling.”
My mom had just diedand we were on the playground. I was sitting against a tree forlornly. He had picked a bunch of the wild daisies and handed them to me. Some still had root strings attached. He moved his lean body down next to me on the ground, staring up at the sky. “You’re gonna be OK, Cora. You have me and your dad. I’ll come over every day if you need me to.”
It was senior year.We weren’t really talking but I was definitely gawking at him. Dazzling eyes, gorgeous form. He looked at me from across the hallway and gave me a beautiful smile with a wave. Despite all the stuff with my dad, my sullen heart gave a huge thud and I smiled and waved back. He ducked into his next class and my face burned.
