Page 836 of Coal Hearts

Perhaps I was the reason Ily wouldn’t wake.

She didn’t respond to my voice. She begged me to hurt her in my dreams. Maybe she was afraid of me, hiding from me, and that fucking tore out my heart and made me rage all over again.

The churning black decay inside me grew worse.

I found myself glowering at the slight tan lines on her wrists where the cuffs used to be. I imagined all the ways I should’ve murdered Victor. I filleted him alive in my daydreams. I unravelled his intestines. I hacked up his bones and left him to rot in the caves.

Not seeing his corpse gave me no closure.

He haunted my every thought.

I caught glimpses of him out of the corner of my eye.

I saw him in the shadows.

I heard him around the click of Ily’s oxygen machine and the steady woosh of her breath.

Nothing brought her back to me.

Not my pleas; not my attempts at meditation.

I willed her to speak right into my heart.

I longed to hear her tell me how I could bring her back. How I could heal her, help her...but nothing.

Just silence.

Heart-wrenching silence that slowly broke me.

* * * * *

“Eat.” Q marched into the room and practically shoved a tray into my hands.

I shifted where I sat beside Ily, eyeing up the colourful salad, honeyed ham, and garlic butter potatoes.

The familiar sensation of sickness rose up and closed my throat. “Maybe later.” Placing the tray on the side table, I took Ily’s hand again.

Was it my imagination or did she flinch away from me?

Did she not want me to touch her?

Did she hate me for letting this happen?

Bowing my head, I pinched the bridge of my nose.

Get it together.

She loves you.

You know this.

Do not fucking doubt it now.

I jolted as Q planted a hand on my healing shoulder and squeezed.

Ily might not have changed in two weeks, but my body had. Despite not eating much, my back had knitted together just enough not to be a constant misery. The doctor changed my bandages every few days and removed my stitches yesterday. An awful tightness remained, and I hadn’t gotten up the guts to look in a mirror yet, but I felt halfway human instead of something peeled off the bottom of Victor’s shoe.

“You and I need to talk.” Q squeezed me again, then let me go. “Follow me. This isn’t a request.”