Fool For You [2]

Chapter Eleven

        Nothing had gone to plan last night, Rosalie thought bitterly as she sat beside Tessa's sickbed. Her sister had yet to wake after fainting last night, just as Rosalie had yet to utter a single word. Brother Enoch had told her that the repeated shocks Tessa endured had overwhelmed her and that both her body and spirit were in dire need of rest. Then, and only then, would she awaken from her seemingly endless sleep. Rosalie had just nodded and taken a seat at her sister's side, supporting her just as Tessa had done for her.
Will was only a few beds away from Tessa's, lying on his stomach with his arms wrapped around his pillow. Brother Enoch and Jem were both at his side, the latter of the two tightly clutching his friend's hand as Brother Enoch carefully extracted the remnants of the automaton explosion. His protection of Tessa had nearly cost him his life. Large pieces of scrap metal had pierced his body, leaving a series of deep cuts all over.
From her place at Tessa's side, she watched the pieces of metal being pulled from his back. Will, being the masochist that he was, had refused Jem's offer of applying another pain-killing rune. Even Rosalie had accepted the rune when Charlotte had offered it to her, only to dull the ache in her own back from protecting Jem. Her wounds hadn't been nearly as severe as Will's. The cuts along her back and legs had been relatively minor. All she had needed was a couple healing runes.
The tweezers glinted in the light as Brother Enoch angled them downward, cautiously pulling yet another piece of metal from Will's bleeding back. The metal shard was then dropped into a metal tray. From the looks of it, nearly all of the metal had been removed. At least she hoped most of it had been removed. They had been at this for hours, and she wasn't sure how much more of it she could bear. She owed Will for what he had done last night; owed him for valiantly protecting her sister, and nearly dying because of it. But how does one ever repay such a thing? Rosalie shook the thought away as the last piece of metal clattered into the tray.

Rosalie sat in that chair for days, not bothering to change out of her tattered gear. She couldn't bring herself to leave Tessa's side. Someone needed to be there to soothe her when she had a nightmare, to reassure her that they had escaped- that everyone had survived. She knew that Tessa likely couldn't hear her, but just on the off chance that she could... Rosalie would continue to whisper soothing words to her.
Jem often joined Rosalie in the infirmary. He had pulled up another chair on the opposite side of the bed. She could see the worry swimming in his eyes as he examined her; the emptiness that filled her once lively eyes, the shift in her fiery spirit. He had asked her repeatedly if he should send for Brother Enoch, but she had just stared at him and blinked in silent refusal. That had become her only form of communication these days: blinking.
On the third day of sitting in that chair, Will had begged her to say something. To say anything, even if she told him that she hated him. He had gripped her hand so tightly in his own, she thought it may break- but she didn't say a word. She couldn't. If she spoke, she worried that the words would break her. She knew that to speak would be to accept the things that had happened. Their utter loss at the warehouse, Nate dying, Will nearly dying. And she couldn't bring herself to accept any of those things. Especially considering that loss would undoubtedly cost Charlotte the Institute.
A week had passed. Tessa had yet to wake, and Rosalie had yet to speak. But she had finally ventured away from her sister's bedside to bathe and change into clean clothes. She had spent quite a long time worrying that Tessa would never wake. She hadn't been seriously injured, but the emotional toll of that night had taken so much out of Tessa. Perhaps she would never recover from that. From the knowledge that her brother had died, and her friend had put his life on the line to save hers. The guilt of that surely came with a hefty price. What if that price was her own life? Rosalie scowled at the thought, shoving it deep, deep down.
Sitting at the foot of her bed, Rosalie stared at her reflection in the mirror across from her. Her face had grown gaunt, her eyes dead. The clothes that had fit her perfectly a week ago now hung loosely on her body. Part of her wanted to die and be reunited with her brother. Perhaps she would find Tessa there. It seemed probable that she was somewhere between life and death at this very moment; perhaps that was why she was unable to wake. If her sister truly was bound to die, Rosalie knew she would join her. The thought of living in a world without her family was unbearable and she refused to even envision such a dreadful world.