Make You Love

Chapter 11

Each hour brought her closer to her grave. Her body was buried under snow that rushed into her ears, her nose, choking her on the icy air.

Once in a while, her body stirred as if she would awake. She jerked and spasmed, flailing her arms under the heap of snow in her struggle for air.

Her jeans were ripped open from the hems to the knees by the wolves, and there were deep gashes were they gnawed at her skin. Her blood gushed out of the wounds, then froze in the ice.

No air. No help. There were marks on her neck and face where the wolves had nibbled on her flesh before the blizzard started. Her eyes bulged out of their sockets, and her cheeks turned pale blue. Death had come. When the blizzard stopped and the snow started melting off the roads, flies found her first.

They swarmed over her still body, flapping their wings and perching on her wounds. She'd never imagined that she'd die that way.  Isla had witnessed a number of people die in her life. Her grandma. Her half-sister.

But death to her had been a fantasy. Something that would never happen. If Novah was hated to her death, Isla's was much worse. She was wounded. Battered. Shattered. Alone. Even the flies hovering soon got tired of her, and when the blizzard picked up again, they flew away.

If she could beg the flies to keep her company, she would. But her lips were charred. In that state, she was the picture of her mother when she died. In an open field, west of London. Isla cried and cried for days until she finished all her tears, and her head throbbed. Night crept in, shadowing everything in blackness.

When Craig's eyes peeked open and he saw his mom standing by his bedside, he knew right away that he wanted her to be someone else. Pain shot up and down his legs in little packets, then hit his head like a roll of thunder. He groaned, then closed his eyes again. Something was sapping his strength. His eyelids felt heavy.

Maya stroked the edge of his pillow. She knew that his sides hurt badly, and she wasn't ready to take his pain to a higher level. Hadn't the boy gone through enough for one night?

"Darling, I was so worried about you," she said.

꧁꧂

Then she hurriedly wiped a tear that slid down her cheek. He couldn't see her cry.
But nothing registered in his memory. He didn't even see the tear. Didn't give a damn about the fact that she gave a damn about him.

He tried to speak but the word came out as a croak.
"Isla?"

He craned his neck to stare past her, scanning the room like a bullion.

"She's not here, darling. I am."  Maya struck a graceful pose.

She grabbed a glass from his bedside cabinet and poured lukewarm water into it, never taking her eyes off him. Then she wiped the rim with a wad of tissue, and held it up to his lips.

"I don't want you fussing over me." He tilted his head to another direction, declining the water.

"You're a proud piece of shit." She shrugged, coming to sit at the edge of his bed.
Then she kissed his cheek, taking his hand in hers. He winced and yanked it away.

"I'm sorry. Am I hurting you?" Her veins stood out in thick lines on her forehead.

He watched her fold her palms on her lap.
"Yes."

Her face fell. The facade she'd been putting up fell apart. Now, he could see the real her for who she was. In a flash, she raised her hand to her head and pulled off the blond hair. Wait, she was... bald?

He saw right through her fear as she sprang off his bed and threw the wig at him.

"She'll ruin you one day." Maya simmered.
Craig thought he'd never seen anyone look so... Ugly?