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The tub’s clear water had turned muddy already, and a wound on my hip that I hadn’t even noticed before opened up. Narrow streams of blood floated into the bath, and I stared, dazed, at the strangely beautiful swirls.
Margery held out a small white cake of soap. “Scrub every single part of yourself.”
I washed slowly, numbly, as the two watchful sisters stood over me. As I soaped my feet, my legs and in between them, then my stomach and chest, an old memory came back to me. I was tiny, and my mother was bathing me with a bucket of river water and singing.
A little bath at the end of the day
To wash the mud and cares away
The recollection was so strong I could almost feel her tender fingers combing through my hair right now. The soap slipped from my fingers.Mother, did you know how many of your babies would die?
“I’m done,” I said abruptly. I stood up, water streaming down me.
Margery led me over to the fire, where I dried myself with a square of linen. I’d stopped caring about my nakedness in front of her. I only wanted to crawl into that enormous bed and fall asleep again. When I slept, I didn’t feel.
But now Agnes was walking toward me with a magnificent dress in her arms. It was green and gold brocade, with a scooped neck and a long train, and there was a pair of velvet slippers to go with it.
“I can’t—” I said, shaking my head and stepping back as if the gown would bite. It was forbidden for people like me to wear clothing as fine as that.
“You can and will,” Agnes said curtly.
They pulled the dress up and over my shoulders and fastened it behind me. It was so tight that I struggled to breathe.
“You look beautiful,” said Margery. “Though you could use a comb.” Then she and her sister turned to leave.
“What now?” I said as they walked toward the hall.
But neither of them answered, and the door shut behind them with a heavy thud.
Alone again, I blinked at the fire, watching the flames flicker and dance. And though I tried to keep my mind blank, I thought of Otto hanging in the courtyard, his death a baron’s justice and a crowd’s entertainment. I thought of Mary, and how her life had slipped away as I held her in my arms.
What now? What now? What now?
The words beat against the inside of my head. I felt as if invisible hands were circling my throat, strangling me. I opened my mouth as wide as it would go, but I still couldn’t get enough air. I started shaking all over. My vision narrowed to a pulsing tunnel, and all I could see was the fire and the flickering red stones around it.
My hands and feet were icy-cold now, as if I’d come out of the winter river instead of a warm bath. My fingers curled in on themselves, and it felt as if my skin everywhere was being poked by a million tiny thorns. My ears were ringing. I gave a choking cry. Pain filled me, inside and out.
What now? What now? What now?
Suddenly, I knew the answer. I was dying, too.
CHAPTER 37
“Are you okay, Hannah-Lily?”
Belman Psych’s newest patient was looming above me, her face round as a moon and her red hair brushing against my cheek. “Do you have, like, absence seizures or whatever those things are called?”
“What?” I managed. My breath was coming too fast, and my heartbeat fluttered and skipped.
“One minute we were talking, and then the next minute it was like you weren’t even here,” Sophie said. “Your eyes were open, but you couldn’t see me. Then I started calling your name, but you didn’t answer.”
“I’m okay now,” I said, willing my pulse to slow. “I’m okay.”
“It was so weird,” Sophie went on. “You were, like,gone.”
I know I was.
“You were like this.” Sophie opened her eyes really wide and stared dead ahead. She looked catatonic.
