Page 143 of Rot In Knotty Pieces

She doesn’t make a sound, just holds on, refusing to let go.

The smell of blood is thick in the air; their shadows dance like giants on the walls. The lantern light flickers and sways, and that smell of him makes me nauseous.

I try to scream, cheering her on, willing her to save us, but her strength gives out too soon, and the blood makes her arms slippery. She loses her grip, and he throws her back on the table, punching her over and over until she doesn’t move, not even to raise her head.

“Oh, that is going to cost you,” Father hisses. “After all I’ve done. After all I’ve sacrificed. You selfish little bitches. Fucking think you can bond me?”

Bond him? I stare at Robin in horror. She rolls her head and vomits blood.

My heart bangs in my chest. I want to beg him, stop him, plead, but I don’t. I stay silent, watching in sullen fear and panic over Robin’s strange stillness.

He grabs his jacket and turns and stalks out, banging doors and pulling them closed, leaving us in the near-dark and echoing emptiness of the building.

And for the first time, I think he might really leave us here to die.

Time twists and distorts, and she stops breathing. When I open my eyes, she’s gone.

I stand there, a late teen, completely and utterly obedient. Raven and Kestrel are co-fronting, though we don’t even know what we are doing, preventing us from reacting to his taunts. Beside me, a boy my age towers over me. He’s strong with broad shoulders, but I have never seen his face.

Korax. His name means Raven. Bringer of Death. He is Father’s pride and joy.

I am Merle. Blackbird, a common nothing bird. I am a disgrace; he hates me, though I don’t know why. Everything I do isn’t good enough, not enough violence, not enough drama, not enough.

I try so hard to please him. To earn that pat on the head or shoulder, to earn his approval and save myself a vicious beating, but I can never do what he wants me to do. Something in me rebels, and I’m broken into six pieces, and my pieces don’t want to do what makes him happy.

We want to see him scream. We hate him, more than we hate anything.

Why is this so hard? How am I going to survive if I can’t even do what he wants?

Maybe today will be the day I disappear forever.

Father pauses in front of me, looking me up and down. “You were sloppy. Do better next time.”

I lower my head. “Yes, Father.”

Down the line are children who have survived his training. More like me. Some come back, some never do. I feel a pang, but I don’t know why, I don’t know any of the Nightingales. We don’t interact except on occasions like this, and we never talk to each other.

I am just a soldier for this monster.

Just a soldier. If I had a life before, I don’t remember it. All that exists is Father.

I’m twenty-two years old, standing shoulder to shoulder with Korax. We don’t speak to each other, not even to acknowledge the other. We are perfectly trained. I am agile, fast, skilled in weapons, fighting, and survival. I am a killer. A blackbird who will rip your throat out.

The warehouse windows shine moonlight down into the dark and dancing dust motes whirl around like stars. I hate these cold metal shells. They have been the only home I’ve known. I can sleep on the stone, on the cement, on the metal tables. In my cage, locked in.

Korax shifts his weight, a mass of rage and death. He scares me because he’s so skilled at being dangerous. It comes naturally to him in a way that I need to work at. I saw his face once: black hair, tanned skin, dark eyes. Only for a second, but he is human. Much more human than I ever dreamed.

On the other side of me are the children. That is what tears me apart. He has continued his mission. Replacing the lost kids with younger and more trainable babies. When I saw the latest, something in me snapped, and I decided that enough was enough.

No one is coming to rescue me. Or them.

Korax.

Egret.

Wren.

Sparrow.