Embody (20 page)

Stella looked down and went to walk away,
but I reached for her arm to stop her. Staring intently at the
little boy, I leaned forward, and his excitement faded into dread.
“Are you certain you don’t have anything of ours?” I asked.

He looked down, ashamed, searching for a way
not to look guilty.

“Maybe in the right front pocket of your
coat,” I said in a low tone to him. Stella looked at me, then down
at the boy; she was angry, and for a moment I thought I’d done
something wrong again.

Robert reached in his pocket and pulled out
a small book with a leather binder, then handed it to Stella and
ran off in another direction. Stella looked over at me. “Maybe I
should have hit you in the head a long time ago,” she whispered. I
knew she was joking, though, and very much bothered by my
behavior.

One of the ones I could not feel, a man, saw
our exchange with Robert. He seemed to be in charge of herding us
in one direction, and Stella looked in his direction, then bowed
her head slightly and pulled me down the street; that man had made
her nervous, which in turn was scaring me. No matter what I did, it
seemed to be the wrong thing.

A block later, we stepped into one of the
buildings that lined the streets. An old man with a gray beard and
dark eyes was behind the counter. He had compassion for us, and he
started to shake his head as we approached. “Stella, I can’t give
her anything else for the pain. Beyond that, you’ve already used
both yours and her medical ration for this week.”

Stella walked to the counter, shaking her
head. “It’s not that; she hit her head in the storm. She doesn’t
remember anything...and she’s acting strange...she said ‘Willow’s’
name,” Stella said in a rushed whisper.

The man’s eyes seem to fill with pain and
the same fear that the other man, Tim, had had. “That might be a
good thing,” he said, looking at me.

The door opened again, and the man that had
watched us with Robert walked in. The older man looked at Stella
and said, “The laundry is in the back, along with the leftover
rations.”

Stella’s fear was immediate. I followed her
in the backroom, where there was a pile of black clothes on the
table. She started to fold them and put them in a large black sack;
her hands were shaking, and she kept looking at the door. I felt
the good man walk in our direction. “What do you mean, ‘acting
strange?’” he said in a whisper.

“She’s hearing voices in her head, and she
can tell if someone is lying. I don’t even know what else.”

The man walked over to the cabinet and
pulled out a jar, then dumped a handful of pills in his hand,
walked over to Stella, and put them in her pocket. “That will make
the voices go away. I don’t know what to tell you about the other.
Head injuries are hard to predict; this may be temporary - or even
permanent,” he said, searching Stella’s face for understanding.

Stella closed her eyes and nodded. They both
felt sorry for me and were very afraid of something. As Stella
walked out of the room toward the front, I picked up the tray that
had bread and milk on it and followed her. The man that I could not
feel was still in the front of the store, and he stared at me
intently - as if he were trying to see inside of me somehow. He
held his hand up to stop Stella. “All tasks are suspended due to
the storm. You girls need to make your way to the shelter to be
counted,” he said in a domineering voice.

Stella turned and placed the laundry on the
counter, and I did the same with the food, the man was watching my
every step. We made our way to the door, then Stella stepped out
and I heard, “Evelyn,” from a man’s voice. At first, I didn’t
recognize the word as my name - but Stella’s fear quickly reminded
me that it was. I turned and saw the man right behind me, towering
over me.

“How are you feeling? It looks as if the
storm was harsh on you,” he said.

“I’m well,” I answered.

The man stared at me, then tilted his head
and said, “Tell your parents I said ‘hello’ for me.”

I nodded. “I will,” I answered.

The man smiled, but I could feel absolute
horror coming from the doctor and Stella.

“Move along, then,” he finally said.

Stella wrapped her arm around mine and
walked swiftly. I knew I’d done it again; it didn’t matter if I
played along or kept silent, I always seemed to do something wrong.
“Stella,” I whispered, “I can feel you...if you don’t want me to do
something, you need to give me a hint through your emotion.”

Stella looked at me. “Is he following us?”
she whispered.

“I don’t know...he’s one of the ones I can’t
feel.”

Stella looked at me, and I felt her fear
rise. “Just wait until we’re alone,” she said. I nodded and
followed her quietly.

We walked with an immense amount of people
down the street. Though the streets were full, it was silent. Two
blocks later, we reached a large gray building five stories high
and stood in a long line, waiting for our turn to enter. Stella
looked at me repeatedly; her emotions were out of control, and I
just wanted to remember anything. Looking around, I could see why I
wanted to forget: they were all so sad, lost.

An older woman trying to carry her and all
of her children’s belongings called Stella away from me. “Listen,
stay here and don’t say anything; all you have to do is move up in
the line. Do you understand?” Stella asked me.

As the woman in front of us slowly turned to
look at me, I nodded and swallowed hard. I then watched Stella walk
away, looking back in my direction; she was so worried about me.
Stella and the woman gathered all their belongings and walked to
the back of the line. I focused on her emotion, tracking her
through the crowd; so far, she was my only ally in this horrible
place.

A moment later, I felt someone’s hand on my
shoulder, and I looked up to see the same man that I could not feel
standing next to me, smiling with his dark eyes. I felt my insides
drop, nauseous not just from the pain, but from the horror I felt
from the ones around me. The man guided me across the street, away
from the line, then pulled me through one of the openings between
the buildings. It was black and smelled bad, and the air was so
damp, it felt like it was raining. My heart raced, and I wished for
death, sure he was going to hurt me in some way.

As he pushed my frail shoulders against the
wet wall, I closed my eyes hard - wanting whatever he was going to
do to be over. I felt his hand on my head and heard him smile. “Has
this wound taken your memory from you?” he said in a sharp
voice.

I quickly shook my head no.

“Ahh, so you remember that you are my toy,”
he said, pulling my coat open.

As I felt his hands on my waist, tears
streamed down my face, and I began to tremble.

“Now, now...you have done this before. There
is no need to act so innocent,” he said, moving his hands all
around me. I held my breath and tried to let my mind take me
anywhere but here.

“Evelyn,” I heard a woman’s voice say, and
the man holding me stepped back swiftly. I looked to the woman. I
couldn’t feel her either; though, her face was cold and stern, it
was clear she wasn’t happy with what she saw. “Damien, what are you
doing here with Evelyn?” she said harshly.

“Just chatting,” Damien said, chuckling.

“Come,” the woman said, reaching her arm out
for me.

I walked to her side, not caring that she
could be just as bad as Damien. She pulled me into the light of the
gray sky, and Damien walked out behind us, then looked at me,
winked, and walked toward the shelter.

“Let me look at you,” the woman said,
standing on her toes to see my head. “Getting knocked on the head
is no excuse for putting yourself in a situation like that,” she
said. I nodded.

“Where is your sister?” she asked me. I
looked to the line, and I could see Stella walking to where I was
supposed to be standing. “Have you seen a doctor?” the woman
asked.

I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to answer
that question. A sharp, knife-like pain cut through my stomach,
making me gasp. As I leaned forward, my hands rested on the woman’s
shoulders as I waited for the pain to go away. She slowly
unclenched my hands. “I suppose there is a point when even doctors
are no help,” she said, reaching into her coat and pulling out two
large white pills. “These will help with the pain. If you are
alive, you must function,” she said in a cold tone.

I took the pills and swallowed them whole,
then she led me back to the line. When Stella saw us approaching,
her fear raised beyond what I’d felt from her before. “Stella, if
you weren’t such a diligent worker, I would have long ago lost
patience with this matter,” the woman said sternly to her.

Stella nodded and bowed her head, then
reached for my hand. The woman looked at me once more before she
walked away, and the others in the line looked away as she walked
by. Stella didn’t say a word; she just looped her arm through mine
and stared forward. The pills had begun to dull the pain in my
stomach, but my head still throbbed through a burning pain.

When we reached the door, Damien was
standing next to the woman who had saved me. He watched us closely
as the woman recorded our names, then handed each of us a bag and
assigned us a room. Stella and I walked up three flights of cement
stairs and down a narrow hallway that had an awful, sour body order
smell. I covered my mouth, trying not to breathe it in, but Stella
must have been used to the horrible odor; she never seemed to
falter. At the end of the hallway on the right, we found the room
we were assigned. Stella opened the door; inside, it was dark, and
there were two small cots and a table with candles on it and a
small window near the top of the wall. I fell onto one of the beds.
My head was pounding, and my stomach hurt like it was tied in
knots.

Chapter Twelve

After Stella unpacked the bags that we had
with us, she walked over and sat on the bed on which I was laying.
“Evee...sit up...you need to take your medicine. I’m sure you’re in
pain,” she said in an exhausted tone. I sat up slowly, and she
handed me four pills. “I don’t have any water. You’re just going to
have to swallow them,” she instructed.

“What are they for?” I asked, wanting to
know what was causing the pain in my stomach. She leaned forward
and covered her face with her hands; she was so sad.

“Listen...I’m sorry I’m making you sad. If I
could remember, I would...I just can’t,” I said slowly in a
defeated tone.

Stella looked up at me and said, “These are
for the tumors.”

“Tumors?” I muttered.

Stella started to cry. “They...um...they
started in your stomach, and now...now they’re everywhere...you’re
dying.” Her voice was weak and overwhelmed.

I heard her words, but I just couldn’t
comprehend them. A shooting pain shot through my stomach, and I
bent over, trying to breathe.

“Take the pills, Evee.”

“What’s the point if I’m dying?” I asked,
angry at my disposition. I started to cry.

“It will stop the pain. Please don’t make me
watch you in pain – it hurts me,” she said, wrapping her arm around
me.

I could feel her hurting. I reached for the
pills and swallowed them one by one. The chalk from them made me
gag.

“You have to keep them down,” she
whispered.

I nodded, then lay down on the bed and
stared at the gray cement ceiling. “Where are our parents?” I
asked, remembering that Damien had asked me to tell them ‘Hello.’
Stella’s grief grew, and I knew then why she was scared when I told
him I would.

“They were executed...by Damien. And we will
be lucky if we see the dawn.”

“What?” I said in a panic; I didn’t feel I’d
made a mistake that big - not yet, anyway.

“Our parents were executed because priest
believed that they were demented...if you act different, then they
think you’re demented - and now I’m sure they think the same about
you.”

“What do you mean, ‘demented?’” I asked,
bewildered.

Stella sighed and looked at me.
“Listen...we’re all supposed to act the same, do the same...our
parents tried to rally others to stand up to the Blakeshires -
mostly underground - but someone told the priest what they were
doing, and they were executed.”

“When?”

“Twelve years ago, when you were fourteen
and I was twelve. You took care of me. Not many people even
remember them. Those who do are the ones that help us, like Dr.
Parker, who gave us the medicine. And when your time here is over,
I’ll be all alone here. You have to hold on, Evee...I’m not ready
to be alone,” Stella said in a cracking voice. “Did you see Willow
in the storm?” she asked, peeking with hope.

“I heard her name – who is she?” I asked,
remembering the touch on my lips and wanting that voice to come
back.

Stella lay back next to me. “She is the one
who is supposed to save us all from this darkness,” she said,
looking into the distance.

“Have you seen her?” I asked

“No...they say she has already come, though.
The Blakeshire palace is in the city of Delen, on the other side of
the world. We heard rumors that she has already faced Donalt, our
ruler.”

“Did she win?” I asked, completely
captivated by this story.

“We heard that there is now a willow tree
with beautiful blossoms that sits in the center court. Donalt has
no choice but to see its color every time he speaks to the
masses.”

“Would you not have seen her there with me?”
I asked.

Stella moved her head slowly from side to
side. “They say she moves through you, giving you the strength to
find what you’ve forgotten,” she said in a whisper.

“Well, maybe it had the reverse effect on
me; I can’t remember anything,” I said, replaying the storm in my
head. I only remembered seeing Stella and the agonizing pain.