Rebellion

Chapter Thirteen: Edward

Chapter Thirteen: Edward

            Faces haunted me, past and present converging in a horror show that played only for me. The twisted limbs and unnatural poses of the corpses reminded me of the slaughter in Lumina, of the lifeless bodies piled in mounds as Giovanni’s men established themselves in the palace—my home and my father’s stronghold for as long as I could remember.

            “Edward?” Luna’s voice asked me from miles away. I stood as though in a dream, stumbling forward into the clearing dazedly.

            There was a girl’s body atop the rest, dark curls tumbling in a blood-matted waterfall down her back. The slow-burning flames hadn’t spread to her body yet.

            Please, don’t let it be her.

            I swallowed hard, stepping forward again before reaching out to touch her shoulder lightly. She rolled, slipping across the other corpses and landing with her blank brown eyes gazing skyward.

            I shook with relief, sinking to my knees and thanking anyone who was listening for sparing my sister.

            “Edward.”

            Luna touched my shoulder gently, drawing me from my fervent prayers. “Someone you knew?” she asked softly, gesturing toward the girl.

            I glanced back at her, the way her hand rested lightly on her chest where it had fallen in her tumble, the way her hair spread around her like a blanket over her fellow corpses, and her wide-open eyes that looked nothing like Karissa’s.

            “No,” I said, tearing my gaze away. “No, she just looks like her.”

            She squeezed my shoulder sympathetically before removing her hand. I rose slowly to my feet, taking in the full extent of the horrors this village had witnessed. From the small gasp that escaped her lips, I could tell she was doing the same.

            “What could they have done to deserve this?” I asked, unable to comprehend the sheer amount of dead lying in the streets, left to burn or rot.

            “They rebelled,” she said coldly. “This is what Giovanni does to rebels, Edward.”

            I could hardly believe the indifferent expression she wore. “How can you be so fucking calm about this?” I demanded, sweeping out an arm to indicate the piles of bodies. “How can you just say that this is what Giovanni does and look so fucking calm about it?”

            “Because if one of us doesn’t stay fucking calm, we’ll be a couple of emotional wrecks trapped in a mass grave of a village,” she snapped. “And you’re obviously not experienced enough to handle death on this scale.”

            “I watched my family and friends be slaughtered before my eyes,” I said, trying and failing to keep the edge out of my voice. “And I’m not experienced enough with death for you?”

            Her eyes could turn a less-enraged man to stone. “One look at a corpse and you’re brought to your knees because she looks vaguely like someone you know. You tell me, Edward.”

            “I’m sorry I’m not made of stone,” I said flatly.

            “You think this doesn’t tear me apart inside?” she cried, something deep inside her snapping. “You think I’m glad to be so callous when it comes to a massacre like this? You think that I want to see this and remember the massacres in Sorabia that were just the same?”