The Wounded

Joseph was rigid. His expression confused. He gripped the stool beneath him, and I was scared he wasn’t going to let it go or that he was going to throw it at the guards.

“I d-don’t understand,” he said, quietly.

Deshi stood tall, plank-like against the open door, his arm crossed over his chest. “I’m a very important part of the Science and Research division. Essentially, I’m Este’s right hand man, and I’m working on a very special project for Superior Grant. I don’t have time for these kind of errands,” he snapped at the guards. “Tell Este that, next time, she should get one of her lackeys to do this kind of work for her. Collecting blood is beneath me.”

I could tell it was an act, but Joseph was letting it get to him. He huffed and stood up suddenly, the stool clanging to the shiny tiles. My eyes co

He strode back to his desk, his legs a little wobbly. Without turning around, he shouted back at the guards. “The information they hold is extremely important. Don’t harm them and tell Este I’ll be there for the meeting.”

The guards nodded and closed the door as they left.

I didn’t know what it meant or whether it changed our plans.

“It changes nothing,” I said, watching Joseph pace the room fervently, wearing a hole in the carpet. “We’ll offer the solution, but only if they drop Deshi and us outside the walls, then we’ll tell them.”

“But what if he doesn’t want to come with us?” He was bewildered.

“He does, I promise.” I reached a hand to his shoulder, trying to slow his pacing.

He stopped dead, gesturing wildly around the room. “This place is just so strange. It’s not what I expected at all. Is it possible Deshi has a better life here?”

“Just stop, Joseph, think. Would Deshi just desert Hessa like that?”

Joseph shook his head. “No, no, he wouldn’t.”

I pulled him towards the bed and made him sit.

We went over what we would say. How we would say it. Time ticked over. We were brought lunch. The scene projected in our window darkened, and I knew they would be coming for us soon.

The latch sounded, and two different guards stepped forward. They were less friendly than the other two but not violent. We were guided through more corridors, away from Deshi’s office. Animal heads decorated the walls and I ducked under them, holding my breath. It smelled like dust bu

The heavy, wooden doors were held together with large, iron brackets that creaked forebodingly as they were pushed open.

Eight guards stood to attention at the wide, double windows of the large room. Long, luxurious curtains fell on either side. I looked past the guards and out to the view of her compound. A garden spread beneath. Flowers curled around birdbaths. Roses were pi

We were told to sit on an ornate lounge; its carved legs and arms gilded. We sat, hands clasped in front of us, like we were awaiting a sentence.

*****

It was so quiet. All we could hear was the breathing of the guards, and the occasional shake of the iron window frames pulsing from the wind. We’d been waiting an hour, and some of the guards were shifting in their upright positions, bending down to scratch their legs while surreptitiously casting their eyes over us. We didn’t move, too nervous, too scared to even breathe.

The latch of the door clicked, and I heard it slide back and forth five times. Then a sharp knock, one, two, three, four, five times. My skin prickled in anticipation as the door started to open. The small, pointed toe of a red, leather shoe poked through the entrance like the tongue of a snake.

Este shuffled into the room in small, mouse-like steps. My gaze started at her feet and tracked up her very long, slender legs. She wore black stockings, and a tapered skirt with a tailored jacket pulled taut over her pointy shoulders. She was so tall and thin that I expected her to sway in the breeze. She walked carefully over the large floor, her heels clicking noisily as she awkwardly moved to avoid the grout between each tile. I chanced a glance at Joseph, who was watching her with curiosity. She held a clipboard to her chest tightly, and she kept staring down at it and back at us. Her face was pinched with a long, thin nose, a strip of lip with the barest graze of dark lipstick across it. Her eyes were icy blue under high-tweezed eyebrows, one strand of hair thick. She was like the drawing of a person rather than a real woman, everything about her sharp and angular. She reached into her pocket and grabbed her glasses. When she put them on, I nearly laughed. They were bright purple and went up at the sides like a pair of wings. Small, sparkly diamonds were glued to the edges.

Glancing down at her clipboard, she spoke, her large bun weighing down her tiny, pointed head. “R-Rosa Bianca and Joseph S-Sulle. Right.” Her voice was like a bird squawking, and I tried not to wince at the sound of it wrapped around my name.

Deshi walked in right then and made his way towards Este. Her head snapped toward him, and a shrill whining came from her mouth as she shook her head violently and stamped her pointed heel into the porcelain floor, hard.

“Oh. Sorry,” he muttered. He stepped back out of the room and closed the door, sliding the latch back and forth five times, and then knocking five times.

She exhaled in relief, like she’d held her breath the whole time, at the final knock, and Deshi re-entered the room. She really was insane. He stood next to her, his chest rising and falling fast, like he’d run here.

Joseph stood, and I rose with him. “We’re here to offer you a trade.” She arched her eyebrow but let him continue. “We know the babies in the breeding project are developing illnesses.” Her eyes became piercing, almost vibrating in her skull, as she glared at him. “We have the solution to the problem. All we ask is that you utilize it and give us our friend in return for the information.”

“H-H-How dare you!” she shrieked, taking a small step forward, her skin pinched in where she clasped the clipboard so tight. The guards copied her movements, closing in around us like a bloom folding in at nighttime, as they looked back and forth at each other uncertainly. Her hand was shaking as she pointed a finger accusingly at us both. “Are you implying that there is s-something incorrect in my m-methodology?”

Joseph was rendered silent by this unearthly woman, who wobbled towards him like a baby giraffe, screeching and pointing.

I took a step forward, my feet breaching the gap between two tiles. She stared at my toes, burning a hole with her furious gaze. “You know there is.”

I waited for her to combust, to shed her skin and reveal that she was really a coat hanger covered in a thin coating of flesh. Instead, she seemed to ripple and calm herself. She straightened her skirt and glanced down at her clipboard again.

“Even if there was a slight miscalculation, what makes you think I would trust your corrections?”

Joseph found his voice. “They are Apella’s corrections.”

This seemed to get her attention, and she paused, thinking. “Then why is she not h-here to face her m-mentor and tell her all the mistakes she’s made?” Her tone was so bitter.