Rekindle

Chapter 7 (Alister)

I watch Ridley as she heads off. As she disappears behind the trees, Barrick stirs. His breathing is labored and weak. Blood seeps through the makeshift wrap I applied to his wound.

I gently pull him closer to me, careful to avoid hurting him. As the Bane, I qualify as all types of Pyres: healing, combat, and mage. Although the only experience in healing I have is when I closed the holes in my body for the experiments, I try to fix the scar tissue on Barrick's right abdomen. It's still as tender and weak as it had been the day I was interrogated, when Barrick had reopened it. Now, though, a gaping hole dominates the area. The bullet used must have been gaseous; there's no other way his organs and muscle would have deteriorated like this. I can't heal the wound entirely until I get the bullet out, but that will have to wait until I have the tools.

The sun sets over the trees. I think about the events of today. It started just as all the other days I've spent in Similar: the examination room. Cut open on a table, people poking and prodding at my insides. I joined Ridley and Barrick at the pool to start training. With a single attempt, I mastered every performance. We were found out and sent on the run. Now I sit with a dying Barrick and have to trust that Ridley will come back.

Barrick weakly clasps my hand in his. He winces hard, tears streaming down his cheeks. He takes a shaky breath, then yelps.

On instinct, I try to ease the pain. I place my hand on his wound and use my energy to soothe his distress. He holds onto my wrist feebly, his grip sapless.

"You're okay. I'm right here," I try to soothe. The truth is, I don't know if he really is okay. I wipe the sweat from his brow, his skin cold and clammy.

We sit silently for a while. By now, the sun has completely gone down and the only light is the fireflies in the air.

I don't remember falling asleep.

I sit at the table, working on an assignment. I'm in third grade. I had been absent that day, sick with the flu. Stephanie had brought my homework home for me.

My aunt stands at the stove, cooking chili for dinner.

"Alister, could you please set the table? Dinner will be ready in a few minutes," she says with the same cooing voice she's always used.

"Yes, Aunt Clarice," I say as gather my bag and papers.

"Dear, I've told you already. Call me Mom."

I stare at her, unsure what to respond with. I still had not gotten used to the fact that she was now my mother. It didn't feel right calling my aunt Mother. She was a guardian to me, nothing more. I begin to tear up.

She sighs and takes off her apron. Crouching in front of me, she pulls me into her arms.

Heavy sobs erupt from deep within my chest. "I miss my mama," I hiccup. "I want her back." I bury my face into the crook of her neck, my small hands clasped tight to her shirt.

"It'll be alright, dear," She whispers, her voice shaking. "She's always going to be with you. You don't have to be upset."

The front door clicks and my uncle enters the room. I meet his eyes hesitantly. I haven't felt safe around other men since that day. He knows, and he keeps his distance for the sake of my comfort.

"Clarice, I'll be in my office. Let me know when dinner is on the table."

"Yes, honey," she says obediently.

She holds me in her arms for a while, not letting go until I pull away. My vision blurs as tears gather. Aunt Clarice wipes them away, her gentle hands shaking with remorse.