My heart pounds and I grab the rope, climbing it as quickly as I can to get to my brother.
One hand after the other, I push with my feet. The thick twine cuts into my hands, burning and hot, but it doesn’t matter.
Only Finn matters.
But Finn isn’t seeing me. He looks through me, and shrieks and shrieks and shrieks.
He scrambles away, and I’m terrified.
“Finn, it’s me,” I tell him softly, my voice as steady as I can make it. “It’s me.”
I have to help. I have to. What’s wrong with him?
I touch his shoe, lightly, so very lightly, so lightly that I think he won’t feel it.
But he does. His face twists and he turns because he thinks I’m a demon, and as he moves, his hands slip away from the rope.
Life is slow motion.
He falls away from the rope and he screams. He flails as he falls and the sound he makes as he hits the gym floor is startlingly soft, like a pillow. How can that be?
I’m stunned and detached as I stare down at my brother, at the blood pooling on the gym floor, at the teacher ushering the kids away from his body, at my brother, at my brother.
Finn’s light blue eyes are open and staring at me, but he’s not seeing me.
Not anymore.
Because he’s dead.
My father is an undertaker, so I know what death looks like.
I don’t remember how I get down from the rope, because my hands are numb, my heart is numb, my head is numb. I don’t remember who picks me up from school. All I remember is lying in bed and staring at the ceiling and feeling lifeless, like the whole world could fall into pieces and float away and I wouldn’t care. Because if Finn is gone, I don’t want to be here either.
The sadness presses on me like a heavy, heavy weight, and I know I can’t withstand it. It will crush me.
I close my eyes,
And it’s dark, and I dream.
I’m in a darker place, and my brother is there. His eyes are dark and murky, without whites, and I realize that he’s an embryo, and I’m an embryo and we haven’t been born yet. I reach out my webbed fingers and touch his face through the liquid, through the fluid, and he’s my brother. Although he doesn’t have hair yet, I know it. I feel him, I feel his heart.
He looks at me through the dark, and just as if he were speaking, I hear a voice. It’s him, it’s my brother, it’s Finn.
Save me and I’ll save you.
He is loud, and quiet, and everywhere, and nowhere.
Something is troubling him, and I feel it in my bones, so I nestle closer to take it, to absorb it, because I can’t let anything happen to him, not ever. I failed him once, and I’ll never fail him again.
He brings me comfort and I bring him comfort and that’s the way we’ll always be.
I feel his skin. I feel his heart beating against me.
I feel our cells splitting as we grow, as we develop, as we become beings.
Save me, and I’ll save you.
Yes, I will.
I will.
I awaken with a start, and the light is pouring into my bedroom window.
The bedding is pulled up to my chin and I untangle one hand, staring at it. My fingers are no longer webbed. My fingers are separate and long. I wiggle them in the light.
It was a dream.
It was a dream.
My thoughts are muddled though. It’s hard to focus and something moves in the corner. Something with dark eyes. It stares at me for a moment, then it’s gone, and I remember Finn’s scream.
“The demon is here, Calla!”
My heart is frozen as I sit straight up in bed and stare at the empty corner, where I could swear a black-eyed being was standing just a scant moment ago.
That’s impossible.
Impossible.
I feel so tired, so weak, so confused.
I shake my head, trying to clear it, but it refuses. The fog remains, mucking up my thought processes, interrupting everything.
From outside the door, I hear voices.
“Will she be ok?” my mother’s voice is anxious.
“Her hold on reality is tenuous.”
It’s a murmur that cuts through my panic.