Kill.
Another gush of blood pours from my nose. I taste it on my tongue as a fork of lightning scribbles through the clouds rolling across the sky, blotting out the light.
“What’s this?”
The words somehow manage to dig past the hissing chant, and my gaze rolls to the male before me lifting the black jewel strung around my neck. His eyes ignite as he beholds it like he’s wielding all his dreams come true in the palm of his hand.
Kill.
Kill.
Kill.
“Would you look at that,” he spits past a grill of yellow teeth. “Think I’ll have that, you little bitch.”
I groan.
He tightens his fist around the gem andpulls.
I hear the chain snap; feel the heavy weight of it slip free from around my neck. The voices stop, that pressure abates, as though whatever it is inside me just sat up and listened.
My shell peels down, and the man stumbles back a step. He gasps, my startling reflection bouncing off his wide eyes—shimmering back at me.
Murderer.
My skin begins to tear in agonizing increments, cracking me open one searing split at a time. A flock of sizzling death untangles from that cleft inside my chest, and my mouth falls open, muscles immobilized by the blazing trails shredding me apart as I scream the howls of a hundred tortured souls rattling the chains of their mortality.
He only has a few more seconds to take in my shattered beauty before all the ugly pours out.
The grass is tickly and sweet smelling.
I push my curls from my eyes and pick another flower—this one tall with tiny, pink petals that make me smile.
I add it to my pile, squeezing my fingers around the stems.
My brother giggles, and I look up to where he and Mommy are snuggling under the shade of a sad-looking tree, making shapes with their hands.
Love hearts. Diamonds. Birdies.
I pick another flower, blowing away the bee that tries to land on it.
If I pick lots and lots, maybe my brother will make me something pretty with them.
“Momma ...”
“Yeah, my boy?”
“What happens when we die?”
I look up, watching them through the gaps in the grass.
Mommy’s hand-bird stops flying, but only for a little bit. “Well, it’s said that your heart must be full to pass through Kvath—the God of Death—on your journey to Mala. The afterworld. But once you’re there, your soul will soar on an eternal wind through a world where the colors never fade and the smells are always sweet. Where the sea is always warm and clear and kind, and the sand sparkles just like your beautiful eyes,” she says, leaning forward to kiss his nose.
Those are my favorite sort of kisses. One day, when I have my words, I’m going to tell her that.
“Oh ...”
Gripping my blooms, I crawl through the grass that tickles my cheeks and lips.
