BOOK ONE OF THE BINDING TRILOGY
CURRENTLY UNDER MAJOR CONSTRUCTION! Some big changes are likely being made while you are reading, and you might miss them.
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She was gone by morning. A part of me had wished she would stay, an even smaller portion had believed she would in that childish way in which you believe that every large package that arrives is for you. And when it isn't, you say "Typical" in a half-hearted attempt to hide your disappointment.
Of course, I didn't say "Typical" when Elke left. Mama was too on edge for that to go over well. Either she would yell at me or start crying again. Worse, she'd say nothing and give me that sad look of her's. I hated the shame that look inspired in me with a passion, and so I avoided it at all costs.
I avoided a lot in the weeks after Elke left again. I avoided her room, across the hall from mine. It took practice to perfect the way my eyes glazed over her door. I used to go in there sometimes. To find her secrets. To anchor our memories in the monuments that were all that remained of them. Just to feel closer to her. But she was too far away now for reminders of her to do anything but make the distance that more defined, that more uncrossable.
I was also angry at her. Angry at the things she had said, the doubts and anxieties she had planted in my mind. Would this be my life? This house, this farm, this door that I pretend didn't exist?
Thankfully, in true sibling fashion, I too sewed seeds of dread into her at the mention of her death. That was what that had been, wasn't it? A final farewell? I ought to have said something better. I ought to have told her I loved her, or that I forgave her, or that I understood. But no, I made one last jab in an attempt to get her to stay, knowing it wouldn't work, but believing it would all the same.
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I was washing the dishes that night. It wasn't a chore I minded, but it was a chore all the same, so I didn't perform the task with much enthusiasm.
"Flaedi Byr," I spelled to the sink. After a moment, water began to sputter from the faucet. A pathetic little trickle. I groaned. We would have to do another sacrifice tonight. "Haetta!" The water stopped.
I dried my hands on the dish towel and stretched, looking over my shoulder and out the window. It was such a nice day. It was decided. The sacrifice could wait. Right now, I was going on a walk.
