asked the question: Why me?
She’d been afraid it would sound whiny, too “poor me.” But, in the silence of her skull, the sincerity came through. How had she become the pivot of so much?
In the valley below, ancient people worked the fields, their brown skin baking under the sun, singing a song she’d heard before. Dogs ran past, a group of kids shouting gleefully after them. Then the sun went behind a cloud and a shadow fell over the people. Men in armor spilled into the valley, silver swords cutting through wooden spears, splintering them.
The people fell to the earth, like so much harvested wheat.
She walked through the aftermath, her bare feet sinking into the blood-soaked soil, bits of crushed plants spattered on her calves. Not far away, a creature bellowed in pain. She found the bear, shining white and pinned to the ground. An enormous silver cross pierced him through the stomach, as if he was no more than a hapless butterfly, stuck to a collector’s board.
The bear’s icy blue eyes were glazed with pain as it writhed, unable to free itself from the silver spike. The cross at the top, encircled with a golden halo, shone in the sun like a beacon.
Sorrow welled through her—for the crippled bear, the murdered people, the ravaged crop. All that life, senselessly destroyed, all for wealth. The rage rose in her heart, anger against her father, always so determined to have his way, no matter what it cost. An image came to her of her thirteen-year-old self, pinned under her father’s weight and determination, while he pulled up her shirt to reveal the slices across her tender belly.
“Cutting is a sign of mental weakness and emotional pain.” He spoke in even tones, not caring if she heard him over her tears and cries. “You shouldn’t have done this to yourself. I had no idea the divorce had affected you so deeply. But we’ll get you the help you need. If you can’t be happy living a normal life here with me, then we’ll find you a nice group home, where they can help you recover your sanity.”
That had been the real her. She’d never been insane. Just injured.
Like a wounded creature, she’d tucked away her pain and never told anyone what she’d done. But the truth shone through, didn’t it?
She wrapped her hands around the silver spine of the cross and it shifted under her grip, writhing like a serpent. Drawing on her deep stubbornness, her own determination, inherited from him but inverted, used for life, not power, she pulled. It tried to squirm away, but she held on, using all her sorrow and fury to pull it to her.
It came free with a scream. From her, from the bear, from the earth itself.
She fell, plummeting through darkness, trying to remember the name to call. Glittering discs of gold and silver fell around her, nicking her skin, drawing blood. She fell into the arms of the bear and he sank his claws into her. Crying out in ecstasy, she threw back her head, giving him her throat.
He took it and her blood flowed free, sinking into the earth, pulling the maimed bodies with it, drawing them under. In their place an unnaturally lush green lawn grew. Among the endless sameness of grass, stalks of another plant grew here and there. She lay in the bear’s embrace while the crops grew up around them, luxurious, reaching for the sun. The stalks grew tall, their leaves spread and waxed, offering their shade. Through the patchwork green, buds burst into full sunflower bloom, turning their faces to their namesake shining above.
In the blessed depths of the shadows, she smiled.
7
H ally didn’t ask what she’d seen. Which was good, because Christy didn’t think she could put it into words. The redhead picked up her stones and scuffed away the circle, moving in the reverse of what she’d done before. They walked back down the path in silence, Christy turning over what she’d seen and felt, still under the spell of it all.
She knew without doubt that somehow, somewhere, she hadn’t
She’d been afraid it would sound whiny, too “poor me.” But, in the silence of her skull, the sincerity came through. How had she become the pivot of so much?
In the valley below, ancient people worked the fields, their brown skin baking under the sun, singing a song she’d heard before. Dogs ran past, a group of kids shouting gleefully after them. Then the sun went behind a cloud and a shadow fell over the people. Men in armor spilled into the valley, silver swords cutting through wooden spears, splintering them.
The people fell to the earth, like so much harvested wheat.
She walked through the aftermath, her bare feet sinking into the blood-soaked soil, bits of crushed plants spattered on her calves. Not far away, a creature bellowed in pain. She found the bear, shining white and pinned to the ground. An enormous silver cross pierced him through the stomach, as if he was no more than a hapless butterfly, stuck to a collector’s board.
The bear’s icy blue eyes were glazed with pain as it writhed, unable to free itself from the silver spike. The cross at the top, encircled with a golden halo, shone in the sun like a beacon.
Sorrow welled through her—for the crippled bear, the murdered people, the ravaged crop. All that life, senselessly destroyed, all for wealth. The rage rose in her heart, anger against her father, always so determined to have his way, no matter what it cost. An image came to her of her thirteen-year-old self, pinned under her father’s weight and determination, while he pulled up her shirt to reveal the slices across her tender belly.
“Cutting is a sign of mental weakness and emotional pain.” He spoke in even tones, not caring if she heard him over her tears and cries. “You shouldn’t have done this to yourself. I had no idea the divorce had affected you so deeply. But we’ll get you the help you need. If you can’t be happy living a normal life here with me, then we’ll find you a nice group home, where they can help you recover your sanity.”
That had been the real her. She’d never been insane. Just injured.
Like a wounded creature, she’d tucked away her pain and never told anyone what she’d done. But the truth shone through, didn’t it?
She wrapped her hands around the silver spine of the cross and it shifted under her grip, writhing like a serpent. Drawing on her deep stubbornness, her own determination, inherited from him but inverted, used for life, not power, she pulled. It tried to squirm away, but she held on, using all her sorrow and fury to pull it to her.
It came free with a scream. From her, from the bear, from the earth itself.
She fell, plummeting through darkness, trying to remember the name to call. Glittering discs of gold and silver fell around her, nicking her skin, drawing blood. She fell into the arms of the bear and he sank his claws into her. Crying out in ecstasy, she threw back her head, giving him her throat.
He took it and her blood flowed free, sinking into the earth, pulling the maimed bodies with it, drawing them under. In their place an unnaturally lush green lawn grew. Among the endless sameness of grass, stalks of another plant grew here and there. She lay in the bear’s embrace while the crops grew up around them, luxurious, reaching for the sun. The stalks grew tall, their leaves spread and waxed, offering their shade. Through the patchwork green, buds burst into full sunflower bloom, turning their faces to their namesake shining above.
In the blessed depths of the shadows, she smiled.
7
H ally didn’t ask what she’d seen. Which was good, because Christy didn’t think she could put it into words. The redhead picked up her stones and scuffed away the circle, moving in the reverse of what she’d done before. They walked back down the path in silence, Christy turning over what she’d seen and felt, still under the spell of it all.
She knew without doubt that somehow, somewhere, she hadn’t
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