I take the torn parts of her dress and carefully place them back where they belong. My fingers tremble beneath the weight of the grey skies and the tendrils of grief fighting to make their way to the surface.
Matted hair presses stiffly into my chest as I pick her up. Pressing her close to my chest, I carry her from a place of disgrace to one of peace.
“Calista.”
My knees sink into the ground as I lower her onto the riverbank. The current pulls at the mud caked in her hair, cleansing the soiled parts of her body until they are reborn into something beautiful.
Something pure.
I don’t have to look up to know Ronan is standing nearby. I can feel his presence as he can feel mine, the moment of excruciating pain split between two souls.
“You’re safe now.”
Before I can push her into the current, a warm hand covers mine. Fingers that wrap around my own, engulfing the stained skin as though it’s any colour but red.
“Let me help.”
I don’t look at him, but I don’t pull my hand away either.
Pressing our palms to the dead woman’s waist, together we send her off to a better place. One that’s free of the shadows of this town, an escape from the humiliation her final moments conjured.
Christopher sits silently beside me, his pants splattered with mud. He doesn’t say a word as we watch the princess disappear into the valley, down the stream that’s bound to take her somewhere better than here.
“I used to think I was fighting to stay alive.”
My words sound distant, detached, as though they were spoken by someone else a long time ago.
“Each time I made it through the night, I got a reward. A gift to acclaim my survival.” Numb lips press together, unable to form any sort of expression, “The longer I fought, the more I realized I was wrong. It wasn’t the girl who was supposed to survive.”
My eyes drift to where our hands rest intertwined.
Blunt fingernails and vicious talons.
“It was the monster she wanted to create.”
Christopher lets out a breath, a gust of air that gets swept away by the howling wind.
“I guess you win for mummy issues.”
The swell of my lips feel too heavy to curve into a smile, so I just stare ahead. Stare at the water dripping from neighbouring plants into the gushing river.
“Didn’t realize it was a competition.”
Rain continues to pour down on us, slinking over goosebumps and trickling between the joint press of our fingers. The bridge where murky liquid meets clear.
“Where did you learn how to...”
“Kill people?”
Christopher winces, “I was going to phrase it better than that.”
“After the first few visits, I started to fight back.” Tilting my head, I look down at the jagged lines gracing my legs. The scars holding memories that will never be erased.
“Pitiful, weak attempts to hurt the men who were hurting me. Maleficent caught wind of this and promptly hired a trainer. He taught me a mix of martial arts but specialized in Krav Maga.”
“Jesus.”
“She gave me the tools to succeed but only if I was strong enough to use them.”
