ANATOMY OF A GIRL

part nine

Arlo looked like art. His blonde hair a halo, his eyes a brighter blue than the water around him. Long limbs, muscled and toned. Ivory skin, a straight nose and strong cheekbones. There was only one problem with the picture — he was drowning.

His eyes were bright and pleading. Help me, they said, they begged, they yelled. Red rope pulled his legs together, and his arms flailed uselessly at his sides. Yet, he was still art. Terror-stricken with adrenaline coursing through his veins, but he was still beautiful. At that moment, in his terror, she could see the beauty in death. The beauty in dying.

That was when the screaming started. Flair heard his screams as clearly as if he was beside her, as if they weren't far beneath the lake's surface. As if there weren't metres of water between them. Deep within her head, his screams bit and fought.

Flair reached out an arm toward him, tried to pull him toward her, to bring them both to the surface. She stretched further, and further yet, but she didn't seem any closer to reaching him. Her lungs burned. The further she stuck out her arm, the further he seemed to be.

She pulled her magic from deep in her gut, used it to raise them both, to lift them to the surface, but Arlo's body was a weight not even her magic could bear.

She watched as the water turned red around him, as life left his body, as he sucked in the red that wasn't oxygen. Something whispered in her ear. Save him, Flair. Save him. She was trying. She was. Save him. She couldn't. His legs stopped kicking and his arms floated limply at his sides. Flair. His body drifted and his eyes were silent. She didn't save him, and she knew she hadn't tried as hard as she should've. She let him die, watched as art burned, as death caressed his cheek. She let it all happen. Death took the wrong one.

*

Flair Adley, though she'd lived away from Vseti for four years, still found herself praying to the mortals' gods when circumstances weren't in her favour. Here in Djalea, the realm of magic, they worshipped the goddesses, Kaliya, Zymea, and Nasiliya. Each goddess laid claim to countries and islands within Djalea, and they had various roles within their given lands. Electing leaders, deciding on the laws and punishments within the land. The history of this realm was so different to her own – not that the human realm was really her own – and Religions turned out to be her favourite class when she first arrived at Belreistkov.

The history of the religion was fascinating, but when it came to the faith part – when it came to her belief in these deities – that was where she fell short. She'd been raised as a human, and there was nothing she could do to change the ideas and beliefs that had been wired in her from childhood.

Over the past few weeks, she found it impossible not to blame the goddesses. How they could let such a soul such as Arlo's be lost to the void of death? What reason could there possibly be? Flair remembered his agony in her nightmare, and found herself hateful towards any deity that could let that happen to him.

She tried to hold onto her last memory of him from that night, to keep it safe within the comforts of her heart muscle, but came up blank. She couldn't even remember the last words she'd said to him before he left her forever. What kind of a person did that make her?

She hated not knowing – not having answers to the questions relating to his passing. She would smash her head against a wall if it would jumpstart her brain and answers her questions. Or at the very least, rid her of the pestilence altogether, because these questions had become the only thing her brain could hold onto.

Questions like, what if she'd stuck with Arlo the whole night, and hadn't let them get separated? Or, what if she'd tried harder to find him? What if she hadn't drank so much, and could remember where she was in the dark hours of her memory? Would she have been able to help more? Would she have been able to convince the police his death wasn't a suicide? What if the person that killed Arlo sat in the class with her at that very moment?