Etta

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

Etta stared at herself in the mirror. Her face was completely white, with giant puss-filled boils all under her chin and up her neck. Large, red spots dotted her cheeks, and black encircled her eyes.

She looked like she'd died a long time ago, and someone had just resurrected her.

Her curly brown hair was tucked underneath a headscarf.

A ghostly shaped appeared next to her, the same boils in the same pattern but spreading up the face too.

'You guys look awful.' Marko grinned.

'This is a stupid idea.' Etta crossed her arms over her chest and huffed. 'It's never going to work.'

'That's the spirit, Etta. Everyone loves an optimist.' Marko kicked away the rug and opened the trap door.

She looked across at Matilda who was laughing and pulling funny faces in the mirror. Etta watched her, her eyebrow trying to pull up but restricted by all the latex on her face. Matilda turned to Marko, and pulled her lips down. It was horrific but he laughed hard. Another pang to Etta's stomach. She hadn't heard a real laugh like that for a lifetime, nor felt one either. In fact, she didn't know when she'd last felt one.

She was nervous. So nervous. Like the feeling she used to get when she first entered the ring. Years before, when she was so scared her legs seized up. After a while she started to go into with just one thought in her mind, 'come out alive.' That was how it worked. Come out alive.

Then she felt sick, and tired, and like every part of her was collapsing in on her chest.

But that wasn't the feeling she was getting there in her old lady suit. It was a good nervousness. A great nervousness. Like she was about to go on some gigantic adventure. Something where she could die, but she didn't mind because wasn't that what she wanted anyway?

She knew that they could be chased, and if they were, then so be it.

Marko came back from the cellar clutching three swords in one hand, and a bow in the other. He dropped them all on the floor with a clang and Etta found herself shushing inanimate objects.

The room shook.

'There's a sword for each of us. Another part of my brilliant plan, you can hide it under your cloak!' He grinned, looking very pleased with himself.

Etta picked one and swooshed it around a bit, before putting it down again and picking another. 'These are awful.'

'Didn't know you were a sword snob.' Marko rolled his eyes. 'Would the lady like something better? A sword designed by the gods themselves, I presume? Made from titanium and pieced together by galloping unicorns.'

In one swift move, she kicked him backwards and pointed the sword at his throat. Matilda moved forwards as Marko hit the wall, positioning herself between the two, her shoulder resting against the blade but not removing it.

'Seems this one is light enough,' Etta snarled.

Marko's eyes were looking down at the sword while his face was pointing upwards. His breathing was ragged and broken, and Etta got a little pang of happiness as she realised how terrified he was. She flicked her eyes up to Matilda's, which bore into her own. The girls stared at each other, Matilda's lips quivering with something beneath the heavy make up, anger or fear or both, Etta didn't know.

She pulled her arm back and put the sword through the loop of her belt, seeing if it would hide within her cloak. It did, perfectly.

'You've got a bloody short fuse, you know that?' He rubbed his neck where the tip had scratched the skin with a shaking hand. She scowled at him. 'And don't give me that look with that face on, it's too funny.'