Chapter 23 ~ Mother’s Day

Liseli awoke to a nightmare.  First she heard sounds, disturbing her walk through the gray.  The dusk faded, and still the sounds came.  Quiet, human sounds, wet sounds, breathing and choking sounds.  She knew then that she was sleeping, not dead, and could open her eyes.

She rolled over onto her side and saw the curtains in orange evening light, a chair overturned, and Eliasha on her knees.  Her first thought: Russ.  She was in his room, but he wasn’t there.  Only after a moment did she notice the puddle of bile and blood in front of Eliasha, as the girl doubled over, clutching her stomach and choking.

“What’s the matter?” Liseli sat up, unsteadily.  She stared wide-eyed at Eliasha, but half of her still lingered in a world where the gray pictures changed and shifted and meant nothing at all.  “Eliasha?”  Is this real?

Eliasha took one hand from her stomach and steadied herself, slamming it down into the mess on the floor.  She didn’t seem to notice.  Liseli struggled to her knees on the bed, weak and wobbly.  “What . . . .”

“I’m being punished.”  Eliasha looked up.  Her eyes were dark and sunken, and they shifted to something over Liseli’s shoulder.

“I . . . I don’t understand,” Liseli leaned forward.  “Are you sick?  I should get someone, I should . . . do something . . . .”  She turned and saw a figure standing on the other side of her bed.  Her hand slipped on the mattress and she fell back, opening her mouth to scream.  Her breath stuck in her throat soundlessly.  The figure was hooded and cloaked, a dark shadow in the fiery light seeping through the curtains.

“You.”  Trying to get away, Liseli rolled back over and slithered off the bed to land beside Eliasha.  She knew who it was.  It did not look like The Child anymore, but that didn’t matter.  Alisiya had been in her head too many times not to recognize her.

But Eliasha’s distress was too distracting, she had to turn back to the girl on the floor.  “Eli—”

“I’m all right.”  Eliasha straightened, and sat back on her legs.  She wrapped her arms around her stomach, wincing.  “It’s passed.  My punishment.”

“For what?  I don’t understand!” Liseli could remember only some things, and little of it had to do with Eliasha.  She felt the wetness under her knees seeping into her nightshift, and reached out to touch Eliasha.

Eliasha swallowed, her shoulders trembling.  “I don’t know.  I’ve done something . . . wrong.  I can’t remember, but—” she looked into Liseli’s eyes, curiously, “—why are you doing that?”

“What?”

“Changing your face.”

Liseli blinked helplessly.  “I’m not.”

Eliasha reached out with her clean hand, and touched Liseli’s face.  “It’s like you’re spinning and . . . shifting . . . but you feel the same . . . .”

“I am the same.”  Liseli touched her own face as Eliasha drew back.

The girl stared at her hand a moment, wonderingly.  “Everything’s spinning . . . .” She dropped her gaze, almost touching her chin to her chest.  Her body started to shake even more, and Liseli looked around the room again, seeing the dark figure and no one else.  “I need to get help,” she said.  “You’re sick, I need to . . . I’ll be right back.”

“No.”  Eliasha wrapped a trembling hand around Liseli’s wrist.  She stared at it.  “I don’t feel it,” she said.  “Your arm.”

Liseli tried to free herself, twisting her arm and pulling away.  “I have to get Halla.  Or someone!  Let me go.”

Eliasha’s figures dug in.  “I can’t,” she gasped.  “I can’t feel anything.  Don’t leave me alone with her.”  She looked up with sudden terror, and Liseli followed her gaze.

The hooded figure shifted, rustling its cloak faintly, but remained where it was.

“What do you mean?  Nothing?” Liseli forced her head back around, swallowing.  She brushed matted black hair out of Eliasha’s eyes, trying to calm her.  “Can you feel my hand?”

“No.”  Eliasha’s voice broke.  “I don’t know.  I think I feel my heart beating.”

“That’s good!”  Her hand shook and got tangled in the hair.  “That’s good.”

“Is it?  It hurts.”  Wetness dripped onto Liseli’s arm.

“Don’t . . . don’t cry, please, it’s okay,” Liseli said, trying to pat her head, stroke her hair, hug her shoulders; do something to stop the trembling body, the rivers pouring down Eliasha’s face.

“Am I?” Eliasha choked, lifting her head.  “‘O K’?”  She opened her mouth again, and blood spilled out.  It ran over her chin and splashed onto the floor.  Liseli jerked as it spattered her.  Eliasha’s mouth kept moving, but she breathed blood instead of words.

“Stop it!” Liseli cried.  Eliasha’s eyes widened and she shut her mouth, but twin rivers began to run from her nostrils.  She gasped for breath.  Her hand turned to a vice on Liseli’s arm and she grabbed out with the other.  Her shakes became jerks, water mingling with the blood.

Liseli wanted to scream, but she couldn’t.  She stared at Eliasha, watching her choke, feeling like she herself was choking, holding her breath, her screams frozen somewhere in her mind.  Eliasha’s face contorted in pain and loomed monster-like in front of her.  She couldn’t feel her right hand anymore, but she felt powerless to do anything about it.  Then Eliasha’s fingers relaxed and her hands slipped from Liseli’s wrist, into her own lap.  Her head drooped and she fell forward.  Liseli caught her.  The trembling stopped.  Eliasha’s body went heavy and limp in her arms, her face pressed into Liseli’s shoulder.

She looked up in bewilderment, holding Eliasha’s head in her hands as she dropped the lifeless body to the floor.  She let the head fall back, and stared at the still form.  The eyes that had once twinkled at her, and glowed in the darkness, were dull and glassy.  She reached out to close them, then closed her own eyes.  This can’t be happening.  This will change.  It always changes.  Eliasha’s life was all around her, in vivid red, not gray, not dreamlike, and if she opened her eyes again she would see it, but it wasn’t true, she told herself.  It’s a lie. It’s a dream.  It’s more gray.  It’ s . . . .

The figure moved. She heard the rustle and opened her eyes, watching it warily.  It stepped around the bed and walked past the foot to stand above Liseli.  A white hand emerged from the dark folds, and pushed back the hood.  The darkness had a face; it was small and white as paper, with eyes so blue and pale they were clear like water reflecting blue.  A shadow of black hair encircled the head; the head tilted to the side.  The face looked at her.  Its bluish gray lips parted:  “I told you.  You can’t save anyone.”