Gifted Ones

Chapter 16 Haven

Anne's scream of horror resonates through the cavern like a police siren, her expression frozen in shock and horror. Nate looks down at the knife, blood slowly seeping out from the wound and staining his shirt. His eyes are wide, mouth open like he's surprised and slightly appalled. There is one long second of terrible silence where everything is still, and everyone holds their breath as they wait for the inevitable.

Jonathan stumbles backwards, his legs failing to keep him upright. Annalise leaps foreword, catching him as he falls and gently lowering him to the floor. He turns his head towards her, face pale. But despite this, he grins at her, a sweet smile of victory. She lets out a strangled sound, her hands fluttering around the site of the wound like a scared butterfly.

"Nate," she whispers, pressing her hand against his chest and placing the other on the knife hilt. He grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut as she pulls out the blade in one swift motion. He groans, a low, deep sound in the back of his throat.

Annalise lets the knife fall to the ground with a clatter, layering one hand over the other to apply pressure.

"Anne-"

"Shhhhh," she says desperately. "Don't talk. You're gonna be okay, I'll get you out of this."

"No Anne," he tells her. "It's okay. You can let me go."

"DON'T TALK LIKE THAT!!!" She yells, salt water welling up in her eyes. "I'll save you. I can fix this. Joshua, come here! You can help him, you. . ." Joshua shakes his head sadly, looking older than I've ever seen him.

"There's nothing I can do. The blade hit too many organs. There's internal bleeding, and I-"

She breaks down in hysterical tears, clutching at Nate's shirt desperately. "No. No! Dammit, Nate! Why did you do that! You should've left the knife to me!"

"Anne, do you know what me fear was? In the hallucinations, I mean?" He asks. She shakes her head, her hair creating a curtain around her face. "My fear was that you would be killed trying to protect me from the world. I'm fifteen now, Sis. I don't need to be protected-" he starts coughing violently, holding his hand up to his mouth. And when he pulls it away his fingers are stained red with blood. Anne makes a sound like a wounded animal, shaking with the force of her grief.

"Anne," he says quietly. "It's okay. Don't cry over me. I'm going far away from this place, but I'll see you soon. Don't cry, Anne, please. Do this for me. Don't cry for me. I'm so, so sorry. I should've been a better brother. You were always saving my ass from all the stupid crud I got myself into over the years, even if you're only three years older than me. I know you hated it."

"You idiot!" She growls. "I never protected you because I was obligated to. I did it because I love you! Damn you! Why? Why couldn't you just have let me die?!"

He frowns at her sadly. "I already told you, Sis. Ah!" His face contorts in pain, sweat beading on his brow. "You're so protective you won't let me take risks. And that makes you vulnerable, Anna. My worst fear. And at least. . . If I'm gone. . . It will never. . . Come true." A smile curves gently on his lips before his dark eyes go glassy and his body stills. I wait for him to move, but he never does. His eyes stay wide open, unblinking, immobile. Seconds pass, but he still doesn't move. And he never will again.

Anne makes a moaning, sobbing, hiccup of a sound, a cross between a cry and a groan. She leans over her brother's corpse, her fingers to his neck, but no pulse. Even as the skeletons around her are completely still, crumpled in nondescript piles of bones like they were twenty minutes ago, right where they were when I completed the puzzle, Nate's breathing has stopped, and his heart has ceased to beat. It is not a victorious moment in our crusade.