The Price of Blood [ONC 2024] {SHORTLISTED}

Chapter Nine

I thank the nurse again with a smile and step out of the room. Caelen is sitting outside, and he glances up as I approach. 

"Is she okay?" He asks, and I nod. 

"Sav was only scraped by the bullet," I say, "so she hasn't suffered any serious damage, thank goodness." 

Caelen smiles briefly. "Well, that's a relief," he murmurs. 

I shift awkwardly, not knowing what to say. We spent most of the trip home in silence, and to be honest, I'm still not sure how to talk to him. How can I even start a conversation after everything that's happened? 

"You heading home?" He asks, and I nod again. He hesitates a moment. "About... Malik..." 

I feel my face flush and I look away. "Look, Caelen–" 

"Wait," he interrupts. "I know nothing I say can really... help? It won't fix anything, I get that. I just... I'm so sorry. I really am, Malik... well, he was like a brother to me, too. I'm not trying to say I fully understand how you feel, exactly, but..." 

"I get it," I mumble. "To be honest, I'm going to need time. Like, a lot. I'll probably turn in my resignation for the cafe soon. I just... don't know how to do– well, this." 

Caelen nods, looking away. "Right," he whispers. 

I shift again, desperately wanting to leave, to avoid this conversation entirely, but I can't just run from this. "Yeah," I say, trying to continue, though my voice is somewhat shaky. "It's probably best if I just... leave. I don't know that I should - that I can - keep on working there. Not after... this." 

Caelen sighs, but he doesn't argue. "Okay," he says, standing up. He looks at me one last time, and I can see some of the regret in his eyes. "See you." 

I don't respond. 

I linger outside Sav's hospital room for a while, occasionally checking in on her. For the most part, she rests, and eventually I take my leave. 

I decide to walk home instead of taking a cab. It's late enough that there aren't many people out, and the city at night feels almost refreshing. 

It's familiar. 

The city is something I know - somewhere I spend most of my time. Compared to the suffocating feeling of the forest, blocking out the sun, the bright lights of the city feel comforting. 

The walk takes a while, but I don't mind. I head back slowly, taking my time to stop in a park, grab a drink, and just take in the sights of the city. 

Eventually, I make it back to the Nest, feeling much more relaxed than I did before. It's dark inside, but I'm not surprised. It's late. Everyone is probably already asleep. I almost go to Adella's room to check if she's around, but she's probably sleeping if she is. 

I stay in the kitchen, finishing up the drink I bought. 

My eyelids feel heavy, and I know I should be in bed, but I'm so afraid of seeing Malik as soon as I close my eyes. I try to fight the exhaustion, but I know it won't work. 

I start to make my way upstairs, and suddenly remember what I promised Adella. With a sigh, I pass by my room and slowly push open the door to my father's room. 

He's lying in bed, but that's nothing new. I can't help but feel guilty as I look at him, stuck in bed, bones too weak to continue moving. 

I take a seat next to the bed. 

My father makes no indication that he's awake or aware of my presence, but I start to talk anyway. The words come quickly, flooding out in a rapid stream, jumbled and mixed, but it doesn't matter. I doubt he can hear me in any case. 

I apologize, over and over again, for ignoring him for so long, for staying away all this time. After Malik died, he was the only immediate family I had left, but I couldn't bear to be around someone so weak. 

And I cry. 

Sobs shake out of me, almost silent in the night. I've felt so blank since first finding out what Caelen had done, so devoid of any feeling. Like everything was separate, distant from me. 

Yet, somehow, sitting at my father's bedside, everything is dragged out of me, again and again. My voice is shaky, trying to convey meaning in the mess of what I'm saying. I don't even know why I'm telling him this. 

Eventually, the words dry up, and I bury my head in my arms, supported by the edge of his bed. Everything feels so raw again, like a wound that reopened. The tears are gone, but the ache remains, constant and sharp. 

It takes a while, but I finally manage to calm my breathing and relax somewhat. 

I apologize again, not expecting a response, but this time, my father moves. Slowly but surely, he reaches out and takes my hand.