The Stolen Child (56 page)

On the table lay the contents of a small cloth bag.  A length of clear tubing, a metal spoon with its neck bent at a sharp angle, a tiny packet of
white powder
and a clear glass syringe.

She felt Rachael's hand
tighten
around hers.  Nails dug into her skin, and a second later Rachael was doubled over, violently expelling the contents of her stomach onto the pitted carpet.  
Horrified,
Arsha could only stare at the scene in front of her.  She could scarcely understand what had happened.  She had only the vaguest sense, things half overheard, pieces that gathered together, buzzing at the back of her head like angry wasps that she desperately wished to ignore.  She did not want to know, did not want to understand.  Everything before her was simply too horrible, too nightmarish to be allowed
to be real
.  She wanted to shut it out, to step back from the room, slam the door and run away from it forever.

Rachael continued to cough and retch.  Arsha watched with horrified fascination as the puddle of vomit inched towards her boots.

“Rachael... Oh Fates, Rachael... What happened?”
she said, as the girl drew ragged breaths.
 

“I did.  It was all because of me.  Dad
never sticking around,
and everything that happened after.  It was me.”

Eyes swelling with tears, Arsha fell to her knees, heedless of the vile liquid that squelched into her trousers.  Still holding Rachael's hand in hers, she put her other hand to her sister's shoulder and pulled her close, their heads resting together.
 

“Rachael, you can't blame yourself for this.  Not for this.”

“There's no one else,”
Rachael said, her voice cracking.  For a moment Arsha could only stare at her, head swimming.
 

“
There's me
,”
she said, at last.
  “If this really happened just because of you, because you were different, then it wasn't really you at all.  It was me.  My
F
ate.  My fault.  I'm the one to blame for everything that happened.  
Rachael you know it's true.  If you have to hate someone, hate me.  Not yourself.
”

“No.  No, it can't be your fault.”  

Rachael shook her head, her eyes squeezed shut.

“Why not?  You said it yourself.  If this is all because of what my dad had to do to protect me, then I'm the one who should be responsible.”

“But you can't be.  It has to be me.”

“Why?  Why does it have to be you?  Rachael, this doesn't make any sense.”

Rachael drew a shuddering breath.
 

“Because I wanted this.  Because I wanted her to die.  I hated her so much.  For what she did.  For what she was.”

Rachael looked up at her with eyes overflowing with tears.
 

“It was like
s
he was hardly ever here sometimes.  She'd come home, three or four in the morning.  I'd hear her screaming and crying and throwing things around.  She'd drink and drink and fall over on the couch.  Most nights I'd wait until it was quiet... 'til I knew she'd gone to sleep.  I'd come out and put a blanket on her.  Try to clean up some.  She pissed herself sometimes.  If I could manage it, I'd leave her skirt and stuff in the tub, run some water to rinse it.  
But s
he never said thank you.  Not even once.  Like, it didn't matter.  She didn't even care.  Or like it was just something I was supposed to do.  And then she'd bring these guys home... and they were always horrible.  I just hid mostly, stayed in my room.  I... I crawled under the bed with my pillows so I wouldn't have to hear.  And then she started bringing the needles home instead.  And I knew what it was cos the kids at school all talked about it, talked like they all knew about her.  There were stuff they called her... it made me so mad.  I'd fight
'
em for saying it, kick the lot of
'
em in the faces.  Got in so many fights.  But it just made me hate her even more, because it was true.  All the stuff they said about her, the names,
it
was all true.”

Rachael sat back on her haunches and looked up at the body on the couch.

“When I found her... I didn't know what to do.  I just... I packed a few things and walked out the door.  Didn't even close it after me.  I just left her lying there.  I
just left her.
”

There was blood on the back of Arsha's hand where Rachael's fingers had squeezed tight enough to break the skin.  A darkly glistening red film joined the places where their hands met, the blood slowly thickening, sealing them together as it dried.  

“When I found her... when I found her, I thought 'Thank God.'  I felt... happy.  Cos it was over.  Cos it was...”

Tears rolled down the girl's cheeks
as the words spilled out in a wretched gasp.
 

“I was happy.  I was happy that she was dead, because I wouldn't have to hate her any more.”

Scarcely able to breath, Arsha pulled her sister into a tight embrace, feeling the girl's body shudder in her arms as she gasped and sobbed.
  Around them the wallpaper peeled and rotted, falling away in damp chunks.  The carpet
withered
back to the concrete floor, which slowly crumbled away.  
F
urn
iture
collapsed into worm-ridden piles.  On the couch the
woman's
body shrivelled, the skin and flesh rotting away until only bones remained, as the cloth of the couch fluttered away on a foul wind that burst in through the crumbling walls.  The winds tore the ceiling away, and Arsha saw that the whole building was gone, only the room remaining, falling to pieces around them as the world collapsed into endless grey.

“Sometimes... sometimes I'd come home and find she'd left dinner out.  It was just sausages or something
with
canned spaghetti
and stuff
.  She'd put it all in a bowl with cling-film on.  And she'd leave a glass of juice out.  
Like she was still trying to be a mother.
”  Rachael choked back a sob.  “
She was trying.  She just... She just didn't know how.”
 

Arsha pressed
her sister's
body closer.

“Rachael... Rachael, I'm so sorry.  
Fates, I just... I wish there was something I could say.  
As i
f there was anything I could say.  I just... I'm here.  I'm here for you,” she whispered, lips pressed closed to her sister's ear.  In answer, Rachael shook her head and pushed her away.
 

“
No,” she said, her voice little more than a wet gasp.  “No, you have to go.  It's all coming apart.  You can't stay here, Arsh.”
 

“
I can't leave you here,” she said.
 

“
Yes you can.  It's still here, the Seed.  It's still inside me.  I can... I can send you back.”
 

“
I don't care,” Arsha said, her voice rising.  “I'm not leaving without you.  You're coming back with me, Rachael.”
 

“
I can't,” Rachael sobbed.  “Don't you get it?  I belong here.  You were right.  This is where I was meant to be.  I tried.  I tried so hard to get away.  To be somewhere else.  Be someone else.  But it weren't real.  I kept trying to escape, but I just kept bringing myself back here.  'Cause I deserve it.  All of this.  This place.  This life.  This fucking city.  I was so stupid thinking I could ever have anything else.”
 

Rachael wiped a hand across her face, blinking back her tears as a trail of snot ran down her chin.  Her eyes turned to the grey wall, where the motionless form on the couch had been.
 

“
It's not like no one'll miss me none.  And it'll be better for you, with me gone.  All I ever did was make things worse.”
 

Rachael turned to look at her again, a twisted portrait of a grateful smile spreading across her face.
 

“
It's OK,” she said.  “You don't gotta pretend you understand.  You're lucky, not understanding.  Not knowing.  You shouldn't have had to...”
 

Rachael trailed off, the smile fading.
 

“
You never shoulda had to see this.  You never shoulda cared about me.  I didn't deserve that.”
 

Half choked by tears, Arsha's voice came like a whip-crack, like something sharp and hard tearing out of her chest.
 

“
Shut up.  Shut the hell up,” she snapped, as her hands tightened around Rachael's shoulders.  “
Of course I don't understand.  I can't...
I can't
even try to understand.  It's too big.
It's t
oo awful. It's like it won't fit inside my head.  I can't..."

She gasped for breath, her body shaking as tears streamed down her face, the grey wall hovering at the edges of her vision.
 

"...I can't ever pretend to know what it was like for you..."  

H
er h
ands
moved to
frame her sister
'
s face, tears running slick be
tween
her trembling finger
s
as she set her eyes on Rachael's and did not blink.

"...
But I know that I'm
not leaving you.  Not now, not ever.  And don't you dare tell me no one would miss you, because just thinking about losing you is worse than anything I've ever felt in my whole life.  I don't care what you think, I'm not leaving you behind.  You're my sister and I love you,”
she gasped.
  “So please, please... Come home."

Rachael looked up at her, eyes wide with fear and doubt,
and just for a moment Arsha saw the briefest hint of a nod
.  Then everything fell away, and nothingness swallowed them completely.

The iron floor was rough and hot against her skin.  Rachael was lying on the hard surface of the platform, aching all over.  She could see sunlight, streaming in through the spaces left by two broken panes in the black glass ceiling above.  She wondered what had broken them.  The air had an acrid smell to it
.  
A foul tasting slime coated the inside of her mouth.  Her eyes felt raw, and each breath she drew was hoarse and ragged.  Her arms and legs seemed to be too heavy to move.
 

A tremor ran through the platform.  She heard the building groan around them as more cracks appeared in the black glass panes.  She eased herself into a sitting position, knees curling to her chin.  She saw that her left hand was still bound up in the heavy iron gauntlet, the plates moving clumsily as her fingers curled.  
For a moment she held the strange object up to the light, watching in curious fascination as she clenched and unclenched her fist.  
She could feel her heart pounding against her chest,
and a sick feeling coiled up tight within her stomach.
 
She had the curious sensation of being a passenger in her own head, watching everything with a strange detachment, despite the constant urge to fill her lungs and scream.  
Everything was too loud, and too hot.  Whisps of smoke curled through the air, making her cough.

Arsha was lying beside her, sprawled out across the platform.  Rachael wasn't even sure if the girl was breathing.  She forced herself to reach out a hand, pressing trembling fingertips to the girl's neck.  She imagined she should be searching for a pulse, but when she touched Arsha's skin, she felt a breath drawing inward, throat swelling as the girl's eyes flickered open.  Arsha coughed, loudly, as Rachael jerked her hand away.

Arsha sat up and looked at her, blinking away tears.

“You're OK?”
Arsha
gasped.

“Yeah,” Rachael managed.  “Yeah, I'm...”  

She tailed off,
not sure what she was supposed to say.  None of the words in her head seemed to fit.  Then her sister's arms were around her, her face buried in the girl's hair as Arsha pulled her into an embrace so fierce and strong that it crushed the air out of her lungs.  Without even meaning to, Rachael found her arms encircling her sister's body, holding tight as if she were the only solid thing left in the world.  She felt tears rolling down her cheeks, as her breath came in short gasps.
 

She couldn't say how long they held each other, as she felt her sister's chest rise and fall with each breath, her heart pounding through her ribcage as tears ran down her shoulder, mingling with her sweat.
 

“Thank you,”
Arsha said.  The words were a faint murmur, the girl's face still pressed against her neck.
 

“For what?” Rachael
said
.

“For
coming back
.”

Arsha's grip loosened a little, and the girl sat back to look at her with eyes red from crying.  Arsha wiped a hand across her face, and her eyes settled on Rachael's left hand, encased in iron.
 

“
Oh Fates, Rachael, your hand.  Is it OK?” the girl exclaimed, seizing the gauntlet with both hands.
 

“Uh…
Yeah, I think,” Rachael said.
 

“
Can you take it off?” Arsha said.  Looking down at the strange device, Rachael could still see where parts of seemed to have emerged from within her arm, the skin parting around the blades of iron.
 

“
I don't think so,” she said.
 

“
Does it hurt?”
 

She shook her head, as Arsha continued to stare in horror.  Rachael shifted uncomfortably, and turned to look at their surroundings.  
They were both
sitting
at the foot of
the
plinth,
just below where the gateway had been
.  The twisted remains of the bridge hung, creaking, from the far edge of the pit that surrounded the platform.  Black shards of glass littered the platform, along with larger pieces of iron debris.  The whole tower was swaying gently,
the metal groaning as tremors ran up from below
.