(IM)MORTAL

05

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THE FIFTH CHAPTER
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༶•┈┈୨ HE DESTROYED IT. Ivo destroyed the moon—put a gaping, bleeding hole right through Her heart,

(like the bullet that killed her)

         and Maria felt the world shift with the imbalance. She fell to the floor on her hands and knees, dizzy and disoriented.

Outside, the tides weakened instantly. The ocean was slow, weak, dying. The night dimmed significantly; the moon had been full tonight. But no longer. Never again.

What demon possessed Ivo to do that? That horrible, irreversible thing?

He had become a madman—right like their grandfather. And the world spat on his name and electrocuted him to death.

"You fool," she hissed at the floor. Now you will suffer the same fate when G.U.N. catches you.

She waited four days for Ivo to contact her, and when the phone at last rang one afternoon, she raced to answer it, silver sparks in her hand and licking up and down her arms.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" Maria had never been angrier, and she never would be angrier than that for the rest of her life. Nothing would ever top this. Or come close.

"What was necessary." A smooth reply, a practised speech. Ivo's voice was dark in tone and mood. "This is the final straw, Maria."

"What, cousin?" But cousin held no love, no affection. Not now; not for a long while. "What straw has snapped so that you fucking blew up our only moon!?"

Her fiery question had an icy answer.

"He doesn't remember you."

Silence.
         Silence.
               Silence.

"That's why I did that. Why I'm doing more and worse. They broke him. They broke him, my dear. And they will pay."

Not for the last time, Ivo yet again hung up without any affection; without ceremony. Just clack and done. Maria stood, unblinking, hearing the long hrrrrr of dial tone.

He doesn't remember you.
         He doesn't remember you.
              He doesn't remember you.

She should have seen this coming. Memory loss was common for those trapped in comas, for those with unspeakable trauma.

Or maybe the demon made him forget.

Or maybe they made him forget.

Or maybe he just forgot, be it the coma, the drugs, the pain.

         Every scenario ripped her heart to pieces. Maria wondered how she was still breathing, with her heart continuously shattering again

(and again and again and again)

         like the frailest, daintiest, thinest glass.

Maria's soul finally returned to her body and she was able to move. She hung up the phone, sucked in a great big breath and let it out as a scream. Just one.

He did not remember her. Remembered nothing when she remembered everything.

Maria held out her shaking hands. They sparked furiously, and every electric object in the house flickered and glitched. She clenched her hands into fists. The interference stopped. The lights returned to normal.

She held on to the hope that her gift could heal him. If not, it was useless, and why did she have it?

And so Maria did what she did best.

She waited.