She smiles, weaker than before. She continues speaking as if I haven’t said anything. “Even with the Nine of Swords, he couldn’t force me to read tarot for him. I…” For the first time, Arina trails off, brow furrowing. Just as I’m about to tell her to stop, she continues. “I didn’t then. I didn’t ever…But oh, how he wanted me to. He was so, so angry.”
“You can stop now,” I say.
“The Knight of Swords was his favorite.” A card dedicated solely to inflicting pain. “He would pin me down with the Ten of Wands, then he…he…” Her voice has begun to waver. It loses strength, fading out entirely before coming back.
I glance toward Thal desperately. Their eyes meet mine, sorrow and pity filling their gaze.
Arina continues, tears flowing as swiftly as her words. “Then the rats and the maggots, the raw meat, and—oh, Twenty,Twenty,I was a corpse. I wished I was dead.”
“That’s enough. You’re safe now. Just focus on that:You are safe.That’s all that matters.” I try to position myself so that I’m the only thing she sees.
Arina rips her hand from mine, suddenly screaming as if burnt. She grabs her head, nails digging so deeply into her scalp that blood blooms in crescent arcs.
“I feel them! I still feel them!” The words have become shrill and sharp. “They are here with me. In me. Even now.”
“Arina.” I shake her gently, my hands on her shoulders. She screeches and twists, ripping herself from me.
“Let me go!” Arina claws at my face and arms. I take the scratches and beating.
“You won’t be hurt again. Listen to me—that’s all that matters now. You won’t be hurt. You’re safe.” I repeat it like a mantra as if it’ll somehow be enough, when it’s so obvious that it’s not.
“Make it stop.” She weeps. The sound is horrible. Her voice is broken. Shattered. She’s trembling, rattling, as though she’s about to fall apart. “Make it stop.”
There’s a swirl of blue light from where Thal stands. I see a haze around Arina’s head. Her eyes become heavy, and she collapses in my arms, limp. The steady rise and fall of her chest assures me she’s all right, merely sleeping. The Four of Cups comes in handy, yet again. The only thing that seems to give her relief is unconsciousness.
Saying nothing, Thal leaves the apartments. In their wake is a silence so heavy it could crush the world.
Chapter 44
Thal sits in a wide bay window that overlooks the sea. They stare out toward the horizon and the slowly dimming light. They make no movement as I approach, don’t even look my way as I sit next to them. A few minutes pass in total stillness.
“We’ve decided to keep her asleep for a while, by card and by drug.” I finally break the silence, not sure why I’m reporting this to them. They don’t have any reason to know all this. I lean and rest my temple against the cool, salt-battered glass. “Letting her rest seems to be the kindest thing for her, even though she’s spent months unconscious. Maybe the next time she wakes up, it’ll be better…”
Thal still says nothing. They don’t even look my way. Yet I keep talking.
“All I wanted was for her to know it was okay. Like that would be enough. What if…what if all I’ve done is make her more conscious of the horrors?”
Thal still says nothing. No understanding looks. No words of comfort.
I’m trembling. It’d be better if they yelled at me. “Before I left,Gregor said she might need to be tied to the bed again. He’s afraid of her waking up and being worse, not better.” The words catch in my throat, and my voice cracks. “I’ve let her be tied down like an animal. I promised her I wouldn’t let anything else happen to her, and now I’ve let them shackle her once more. You…you were right. I’m sorry—to you, to her. I really thought having that moment of clarity would be enough. But now I’ve only made things worse. No matter how good my intentions are, or how hard I try, I can’t seem to find the right choices when they matter most.”
“I don’t think you could do anything to make her situation much worse than it is.” Thal finally speaks, but they don’t look my way. Their voice is soft but not gentle. “You heard what she endured, and I am sure she only shared a fraction of it. You gave her a glimmer of relief. Something to fight for, if she chooses to fight.”
“That was my hope, but what if it wasn’t enough?”
“It probably won’t be.” They sigh.
“Can…” I stare at them, a knot in my throat. They’re still turned away. I wish I could see their full expression. If I could, then maybe I could glean some notion of their mental state—how much favor I’ve lost and what I still have. “Can I ask for another card?”
“No.”
“Thal…”
They ball their hand into a fist and then relax it with a sigh. They shake their head. “You said once.”
“I know, but maybe a few times and then she’ll start to—”
“It was my mother.”
