The Weight of the World

Chapter 32: Deja Vu

"You need to take better care of yourself in future," Ava said.

"If one more person tells me that, I'll throttle them."

"Charming," Ava sighed, rinsing her hands in a dish. I swung my legs off the table, and she put up a hand to halt me. "Take these, twice a day."

It was a pack of antibiotics, not the same as I always had, but similar enough. I pocketed, exhaling. "I'm so sick of taking these."

"Are you sick of living, too?"

I didn't smile. "Do you want an answer?"

Ava pressed her hands to her eyes. "Issy, you are already the luckiest woman alive, do not tempt fate with infection."

"I think I'm the first person who's ever been told its lucky they were stabbed," I said sharply.

"Ïsa Mäsix," she cried. "Exactly why it would be such a fucking shame if you died of infection now. Keep it clean, keep taking your antibiotics, and stay out of any more trouble."

"Trouble has a way of finding me," I said, walking out. Like a voice on the wind, I heard her mutter, "Asdizidiq."

Even if I knew what it meant, it wasn't worth calling her out.

The scar was tough and knotted, like old rope. I brushed it gingerly with a finger and opened a drawer, seeking a fresh shirt. I found one, a plaid button up, but as I lifted it free a small leather book toppled to the floor.

Delicately, I bent over to pick it up, recognising Cat's journal. She'd done an excellent job of hiding it. There was no lock, no clasp. The bookmark was a tattered thread. I brushed my fingers across the worn leather, briefly considering opening it.

What harm could a look do?

No. I set it back down where I found it, pushing the drawer shut. I pulled on bandeau and was midway through buttoning my shirt when Cat cracked the door open, entering with a smile.

"Oh, it's you," I said.

"Don't sound so disappointed," she said with a kiss.

"You know that's not what I meant," I said, wandering to the window.

The port office had what could only be described as a hell of a view. Spring had yet to fully liberate the world from the last vestiges of winter's icy clutches, but it wasn't far off.

We'd abandoned our previous lodgings under fire, or so I'd been told. I couldn't remember anything after seeing the scar. Apparently Bilaal and Taylor drove off most of the thugs whilst everyone else made it out down the lane. Connor managed to load Cat and myself onto the horse, and now here we were.

"It looks very pretty today," I said, gazing out over the river. Whilst the quay was nothing to look at, industrial as it was, a bustling park sat just beyond the grey concrete. Trees, leaves budding on branches, broke the monotone of the cityscape in a pleasant way.

"I can just about make that out," Cat said.

"How is it today?" I pressed my hands together lightly.

"Better," she said. "Every day things get a little bit clearer."

"Good," I said. "That's good."

It was, and I was happy for her. Of course, I was. But I couldn't shake the intense feeling it was all my fault. If only I'd been out with her, maybe I'd have noticed we were followed, or gotten there sooner, or...