The Mindless Man's Paradise

Chapter twenty | Cyrus

  When he felt the girl’s arm slip out of his hands, he knew it was nothing good.

  He looked down to see her green eyes pulsating, fighting for the last seconds of consciousness.

  He knelt over her, trying to talk to her.

  “Listen to me, you’re gonna be okay. My mom can do something…”

  Her eyes fluttered, and he noticed as her hand started twitching.

  “Do something mom!” he screamed so loudly, anyone within a mile radius would hear.

  He could feel tears stinging in his eyes, but he would not cry. She wasn’t dying.

  Not today.

  He was about to scream again, but he looked down to see that the girl had a piece of paper in her hand. It was folded up, and her last words were, “I’m sorry.”

  Instantly, her eyes shut, and the fight went out of her.

  But when he looked, she was still breathing. She was still fighting it.

  This made him smile. She wasn’t even conscious and she was still fighting for her life.

  Quickly, he unfolded the paper.

  He wasn’t sure what he had expected to be there. A note, maybe. But not this.

  It was his drawing. The one he had been searching for. The one that had been his favorite. The girl had had it all along.

  Cyrus didn’t know what he felt. It wasn’t betrayal, no. There wasn’t a hint of anger in his body. For the past few days, Cyrus had been worrying so much about the girl, he hadn’t even cared about his sketches.

  But it had been the opposite for the girl. She hadn’t been worrying about herself, but about a stupid picture.

  He smiled again.

  But what was he going to do now? She was still dying, that hadn’t changed.

  Then he remembered. His mother.

  She’d said she had a plan.

  He dashed to the pantry where she was frantically searching for anything to help cure the girl.

  “Mom. I’m ready for it.” he breathed in. “I’m ready for the plan.”

  Cyrus’s mother put down everything in her hands and exited the pantry. “First off, let’s put this poor girl on the couch. Then I’ll tell you.”

  Cyrus helped carry the girl, although there wasn’t much to carry. She was light.

  Too light.

  Before he knew it, he was sitting across from his mother awaiting a plan that not even she liked.

  She interlocked her fingers in her lap. “Cyrus. Don’t deny it. I see it in your eyes.” she pointed to the girl where she lay on the couch. “You care for her. Not as a friend, Cyrus, and not as a sister. As more.”

  Cyrus didn’t see any point in denying it. He did care for her as more than a friend. So instead, he said nothing.

  “Look, I don’t know how much you want her to live, but if it’s as much as I think it is…” she sighed. “Well, then I guess your acceptance or denial of this plan will prove it.”

  Cyrus still stayed silent.

  “You’ll have to take her…” she gulped. “To the Society.”