The Fault In Reality

Chapter Twenty-One

Pat is sick again. Nobody says anything, but the sound of her upset stomach dances down the stairs and teases at our focus.

"Shouldn't she go to hospital?" I whisper to Chase.

He shakes his head, eyes downcast. I don't want to test the tentative friendship that's risen up between us, so I don't push for any further information. The decision claws at my heart every moment I'm in the house. My father disappears into the bathroom with Pat for long periods of time. He comes out, time and time again, with a grim face and pursed lips.

Something is terribly wrong. Worse still, it's so wrong nobody dares to acknowledge it. I can feel it clutching at my heart, squeezing like an iron fist. No, not a fist. Sneakier than that. A snake, an icy serpent gently winding itself around its prey, coy and harmless until it tightens its grips.

I'm gasping for air, fighting for some kind of thaw in the ice that seems to have replaced my heart. Anxiety rakes at my insides. I can't take it anymore.

My arms greet the night air with shivers. I don't mind the coolness, in fact I relish the crisp sting in my lungs. Devany is in his corral, head ducked to a water trough, neck twitching obscurely with each gulp. His onyx coat has been smeared blue in the light of the moon. He swivels his head and watches me approach, eyes shining through the swampy veil of dark. I think he feels my anxiety, for he mirrors the emotion in his own prancing. His hooves worry at the ground, his neck arches with the graceful curl of a dressage horse. He raises his tail so that the last strands dance in the wind behind him.

I slip under the rail and join him. We chase each other around thoughtlessly, actions raw and instinctual. I'm not certain of my own flitting hands or the dust under my feet, it's all too dreamlike.

We dance under the stars until the far whine of a siren thickens to an all surrounding cry, peals of mechanical yowling raising goosebumps on my skin. The door of the flashing vehicle opens and attendants dressed in neon vests appear, cradling a stretcher between them.

What was moments before ice now churns itself into a hot lather in my chest. It feels like hours but it must be mere minutes, when finally the paramedics exit the house, this time wheeling the stretcher under weight of a pale faced Pat. Her head is lolled to the side. Dark circles mimic the semblance of a bruise under her eyes. My father is flitting along beside her, but my gaze has gone blurry with the constant reel of lights and sound.

There's faces, and peppermint breath in my face. A man in uniform is asking me questions from the safety of the rail. Beside me Devany is a wild thing, heels drawn up to the sky more often than not and legs pulsating in rhythm of a gallop the corral just barely contains.

I duck out of his way as he comes careening towards me, eyes whitened with fear. My hands grapple with the wood of the rail, trying to remember how to bend. Then pressure clasps my shoulders, and the paramedic is pulling me out of the corral just as Devany streaks by again.

I'm numb, my brain is sluggish. Eventually it registers with me that the ambulance is leaving, that I should go in it. My legs struggle with the simple task of staying vertical to the ground. Hands push at my back, tipping me into the steely confines of the ambulance. Strange machines beep at the walls, orange and blue and black toying with my vision. I'm being guided - shoved, really - into a chair. A seat belt squeezes at my middle, experienced fingers click it firmly into place. The paramedic goes to take his own seat, arranging something around Pat's arm.

My father is there, face stricken and drained of color. Chase must be beside me, though I can't bring myself to look away from Pat and check. Her eyes have taken on a glassy, faraway haze. Her lips move soundlessly, scattering tears down her yellowing cheeks.