I don't know how long it's been; days, weeks, only hours? I doze in and out of consciousness as my body is swallowed by my mess of blankets and pillows. When I am awake I stare at the ceiling. My vision is always blurred with tears; sometimes I cry with how disgusted I am with myself.
I killed my own father.
People knock on my door for a while. Some of my visitors even work at unlocking the door. I've set up a rig to keep everyone out even if they are able to pick the lock. The only way I'm coming out of this room is when I'm ready to. A few try to call for me. I can't make out what they say. I only listen for her name, but I don't hear it.
With my luck, she's probably dead, too. Everyone important to me dies.
And sometimes it's my own fault.
When I close my eyes, I see him die over and over again. I can't sleep long with blood clouding my vision. Even though I'm dreaming, I can feel the blood splash my clothes and paint my skin. Small dots splatter my face and slide slowly down my cheeks like tears. The death quickly fills my father's eyes.
"Taeo." My name breaks me from sleep. This voice is closer than the others. I lurch upright at the sound, my breath heavy. Sweat courses along nearly every part of my body.
Jeremii wheels himself toward me. My eyes fall on the door, where my entire, intricate lock system has been dismantled.
"Taeo," Jeremii repeats. I look into his dark eyes bright with hope and feel all the guilt, pain, and misery converge in my gut. It explodes like the bomb only days before.
I crumble into Jeremii's shoulder and cry like I'm a child all over again.
His arms wrap around and comfort me. No words are spoken; we spend a moment mourning the way the Movement would. Jeremii speaks through the tightness of his hold and the comforting strokes on my back. He's warm where my head has collapsed and smells of cologne, a peppery cologne where fries and Baya's flowers have merged.
My father had held me this same way when my mother died. He'd cried then, though, and I hadn't. I couldn't bring myself to, but for weeks that's all my father could do. I know he loved my mother more than anything.
And even though my father had never been the best father, I loved him just as much. I feel wrong for taking his life.
I didn't take his life, though. I realize in a moment that someone else had by planting wrong information in my mind.
Michael killed my father.
The tears halt immediately. All my sorrow is replaced with anger the color of the fire I'd seen in the bombing. I pull away from Jeremii. My knees curl to my chest as I sit against the headboard. My head shakes slowly as I remember the way Michael had instructed me about the Taser. I should have known.
"If it makes you feel any better, Beau's the only Free Speak who died. There were three other casualties of Movement citizens beside your father."
I nod. I hoped that was the case. When we'd made it back to the white room, Baya was unconscious from blood loss and pain. She'd almost looked dead, too. But she was breathing raggedly, so I knew she wasn't yet. Everything had been a blur after that, though. As we walked through the metal hallway, I'd ripped my white, bloodstained clothes off myself until I was in nothing but my boxer shorts. Brody had followed after me, picking up each article and trying to console me. Hawk had already run through the hall to get Baya to the dull, red floor.
When I got back to my apartment, I locked the door, and sat in the shower for an hour. I scrubbed so hard at where the blood had been that my skin tore apart in more places than I could count. I'd then concocted my lock and put myself in my room until this moment.
Reliving it all is hard. Not knowing if Baya would live so soon after losing Xander and my father...nothing is as difficult. This past week makes losing my mother seem like a stroll through the park.
"Baya got shot in the left shoulder, not too far over her heart. She's not doing bad, but she isn't doing great either. She's been in a coma for the past three days from trauma and blood loss."
My eyes land on his and I plead. See her? I want to see her. I need to. I have to apologize and sit by her side to make sure she makes it out of one breath and into the next, that oceans open and flow once again, that flowers can linger in the air for a considerable length of time to come.
He nods solemnly. "I think it's a great idea to go down there. If she doesn't make it...God I hope she does. But if she doesn't, this'll be one of your last chances." I can see the hurt and pain in his eyes, too. Everyone down here's seen death more than anybody should.
My heart starts to pound. Jeremii's face already looks like he's mourning Baya's death.
He's wrong. Baya is going to live. I know it more than I know my heart will take its next beat. Baya is stubborn; she won't let herself die yet. She has so much to live and fight for.
At the thought, I hurry out of the room and down the hall.
I have to see her.
--
A/N:
So here we are. The calm after the storm (Or the calm between storms?). What do you guys think? I personally LOVE post-demonstration Taeo. I think I just have a thing for brooding characters.
I lowkey forgot it was Tuesday, and almost didn't post. I apologize or my near-forgetfullness! This is a great time to inform you guys that come June, I'll only be able to post 1 time per week (maybe twice every other week, depending on work). But we still have a few weeks of updates until then, and we'll be coming decently close to the end by then!
Vote, comment, etc!
Alisha :)