"You're the only one to keep their mother alive," Tally begins. "The rest of us traded their lives for our own."
I turn to face her, but she isn't looking at me. She's staring at the windshield, her memories replaying on the surface like a projector. Declan was the first to share his transition experience. He drifted to where the heavens should be, only to find himself trapped in space. Ryan's rendition was no less climactic. He drowned in his own sorrow.
"I was born in Vienna right after the war turned in our favor. I was the third and last child in our family. My mother died giving birth to me. Same as all the others. My father was left to raise us, an oddity at the time. He had no alternative aside from giving us over to complete strangers. His brothers and uncles, all distinguished soldiers, were lost in battle. The wives they left behind were all too busy trying to make their own ends meet to worry over ours.
"I was a beautiful child. They told me so. That changed once I reached female maturity. My skin condition started then. Eczema, a very bad case of it. In their minds, I was contaminated. They refused to touch me. For all they knew, my itchy, flaking skin that peeled off in sheets was contagious. They weren't taking any chances with direct physical contact. I should be grateful they didn't drag me out back and put me down like a sick dog, though that might've been a kinder outcome."
"My response to their avoidance was to try harder. If I did a decent enough job at whatever I was doing, they'd see past my physical limitations." Her laugh is pained. "I fell down while carrying wood for the fire. I was too terrified of disappointing them to drop any. As a result, there were deep cuts in my arms and palms. Splintered wood embedded where it breached the barrier. Naturally, I cried out. My oldest brother, Thomas, ran outside to see what the commotion was. Ethan was hot on his heels. Ethan..."
She sighs, and I breathe in her Narcissus and Sage scent. "He was always the least harsh. Soft isn't apt..." She shakes her head, clearing it. "They encouraged me to let go of the wood and stand up, but I couldn't let go. I needed that wood. For them. I lay there crying for what could've been hours. Neither of them had any idea what to do.
"It was Ethan who finally bridged the gap. Thomas warned him not to touch me. He didn't listen. When his skin connected with mine, it was a simple gesture of comfort. Someone actually cared. I longed for a connection, to be part of our family instead of a stranger in my own skin. It wasn't my skin. It couldn't be.
"Ethan started screaming. Where he'd touched me was a perfect handprint. An unmarked handprint right there on my forearm. If there was any doubt I was infectious before, that cinched it. Ethan's hand looked like someone put it in a bucket of sulfuric acid. He wailed for days. It eventually healed. Mostly. As for me, the perfect handprint on my forearm peeled off in a few weeks, just like any illusions I had of ever being normal.
"The digging started in earnest. I was sure underneath my deteriorating skin there was something better. The real me was there. Deeper. I just had to dig deep enough to find it. I was in constant pain. The lesions grew increasingly larger, spreading out until there wasn't one bit of unbroken skin on my body.
"You have no clue what it is to be hideous, knowing no one will ever see inside you." She makes a circle over her face. "This is the first thing people see. If they can't stand to look at you, they won't bother trying to dig deeper. Eventually, you'll forget there was anything inside you. This." She points to my face. "It's all that matters. Once you accept that, you move past bitter and callous to self-absorbed and superficial."
"Ironic, isn't it?" She snorts derisively. "You wanted to break your ties to protect people, but all you managed to do was strengthen the ropes. Me, I wanted everything you tried to push away, and all that ever did was weaken the ties."
"So, you gave up?" That isolation must've twisted her in an awful way, and while she's obviously better off in her new life, I'm not daft. Her inability to authentically connect with anyone is from living through that. Surface deep is her default depth, the ultimate in defense mechanisms, something drilled into her by the people who were supposed to love and protect her unconditionally.
She squares her shoulders. "No, I became more determined. Remember what I said about Ethan? That perfect handprint?" I nod, so she continues. "The only way I'd ever be free, the only way they'd ever release me from my prison, was to look normal. I couldn't exactly try out another transfer with one of my brothers. Despite my growing resentment, I didn't want to hurt them. I just wanted to be free of them.
"One night, when I was certain everyone was asleep, I pried the boards off my window and climbed to freedom. In a hooded cape, I walked into town. It was like seeing with a new set of eyes. Even after dark, the main street was full of life. I'd barely entered the throng before a man stopped me. At first, he was laughing. My surprised reaction to him jerking back the hood was amusing to him. He didn't laugh long. The disgust on his face..." She winces. "That disgust was probably what gave me the courage to do what I'd set out to. I pulled his trembling hands to my face."
She blows out an unsteady breath. "By the time his friends came over to investigate the noise, it had already happened. He was convulsing on the ground, holding his ruined hands to his stomach. His friends were far too focused on him to pay me any mind. Why would they? I looked normal. I could feel the difference in my skin. There was no burning, tightness, or irritation. I ran home to see for myself in the mirror."
"Only, I wasn't normal." She huffs. "I was anything but normal. I was this." She makes the circle motion again over her face. "I was beautiful."
"You are beautiful," I quietly concede. "Were you excited to show your family the new you?"
"I should've been excited, but I wasn't ready. Shame wasn't holding me back. I was beyond remorse. I was entitled to what I'd taken. I wanted more. I wanted my big reveal to be a full head-to-toe-I-told-you-so that left them regretting everything they'd ever put me through.
"I waited too long." She slides her hands along the steering wheel. "People talk, news travels, and bad news travels especially fast. No one in town believed the man's horrific story. My family?" She scoffs. "They hadn't forgotten what I did to Ethan. They knew the man was telling the truth and who was responsible. Me.
"I fought them. I tried to, anyway, but I couldn't overpower all three of them. We had a cellar at the back of our property. They put me inside for safekeeping while they decided what to do. Days passed. Maybe it was weeks. It was too dark to see the sun rising and falling. I waited...and waited.
"After the visual effects of my experiment wore off again, I commenced with the digging. I raked my nails on my skin, trying to peel away the deterioration. By the end of it, I was a bloody, raw mess. Still, I couldn't stop. I felt if I just kept digging, there was something better underneath. There had to be."
Her entire body starts to shake, and I want to physically soothe her, but I settle for stress stripping.
She turns sad eyes to me. "Thank you, but by the time I'm finished telling you what I did, you'll regret offering me any sort of reprieve."
YOU ARE READING
THE FIRE SAGA
FantasyBook 1: SPARK - When Sheyla Tierney is faced with her future, the shield of indifference that's protected her as a child isn't strong enough to withstand the fiery emotions ignited by her maturity. When giving means the destruction of everyone arou...