Devour | on hold

Chapter 19 (The choice)

- Chapter Nineteen -

**LENMANA'S POV**

The choice

I’ve never felt the world any smaller–like the sky and the ground and some invisible walls are all pressing on me, tightening the space I’m allowed. I don’t remember my trip–or run or flight–back home. I can’t see clearly, I can’t hear. I can vaguely remember Hakan’s voice calling from behind when I was running.

I’m home.

Father is lying lifelessly on the ground, covered with a piece of cloth. It’s the same damn fabric they use to wrap up the bodies when they are taken to Celebrations. It’s the one the Cannibals unwrap and take out the bodies from; hang them on poles, and tear into their flesh.

Jacy is hugging Kaya who wouldn’t stop weeping. He–himself–can’t stop his tears from running one after another. Orenda has some glittering tears in her eyes. I wonder if they ever fall. I wonder if she is sad, and I wonder if she’s faking it. I can make out clear images of the people’s feelings around me. But I’m not even sure of mine.

I’m suffocating and I wonder what the hell is this air doing coming in and out of my lungs. Why doesn’t it make me feel any alive? Why does the weather feel so hot when autumn is practically crossing the threshold to our world? I don’t know if I’m crying; tears are so hot on my cheeks, and they are constantly falling that they don’t feel foreign anymore. But I’m not making any sound. Can anyone cry so silently when their inside world is falling apart? Is it possible that I look so calm when I’m literally freaking out?

The skies fall and rise hundreds of times in my head, and this world doesn’t shatter into pieces. This life is still going on. It does not end, no matter how hard I plead that it does.

What would be a life without father? What would be home without the protector? And what is this tribe without the Leader? Why does this existence still exist?

I’m standing a couple of inches away from him; and he doesn’t look real–being so helpless. He’s not shouting, he’s not ordering, he’s not even smiling. He’s not father that I’m used to seeing.

“We have to take him out to the people,” Hakan’s father says, ripping me out of my cell.

“No, we always wait till the next morning,” Hakan replies.

“Yes,” agrees Orenda, “we haven’t had the chance to say a proper goodbye.” She glances at me.

In this moment, Akando comes breaking in, “Lenmana!” He calls; his eyes wild–looking for me through the chaos inside the hut. When he spots me, he rushes toward me and holds my arms strongly, “Len,” he repeats.

“He’s dead, Akando,” I finally let my voice out. I sob. “I just lost him, too,” blood is rushing through my veins setting me on fire; it’s running so furiously in my head, making me feel like it’s going to explode.

He runs a hand over my hair, and holds me hard, saying, “Shhh..” over and over and over. His hold feels so strong and tight, like he’s keeping me from falling to the ground in million pieces.

Hundreds of people are standing outside, waiting for anything to happen. Waiting for any announcement. This day is going to change everybody’s life forever.

I turn to Orenda, “What happened?” I ask her as if I’m blaming her for his death, “How did he die?” There’s an edge in my voice as I say the word die.

“I don’t know, yesterday we went to sleep after we ate dinner like always,” she says, shuddering as she remembers, “nothing was different, no one came to us, no bad news. Just nothing. He slept, and did not wake up.”