Winged

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Sabrina

Icy water dripping in steady streams down my neck and my back sends chills down my spine. But even more chilling are the heart-wrenching coughs that seem to splutter with liquid in every short breath Lucy takes.

"A pipe! We need something small!" Jackie screeches at her sisters and me, her arms cutting quickly across the surface of the pool as she makes her way to the rocks, her hair heavy and plastered over her face. Harriet is thinking faster than I am. She stands, shoulders shaking, as she turns and forages in the reeds.

I feel useless. Lucy is just lying there, looking for all the world like she's dead. And I'm not doing anything.

"What else?" I ask. "What can I do!" My voice is edged with desperation. It's all I can do to not cry. Annabelle's on the verge of spilling over. I realize in this moment that I've never seen a single tear fall from her face. She's not a very pretty crier, Anna. Her lips are quivering, her face is all screwed up, and her eyes are puffy and red. Anna's mouth is open wide in an ugly, silent scream and even though her features aren't hers, the expression of guilt and fear is more recognizable in her features than her face would have ever been. "What can I do!" I call again.

My voice sounds quiet and pathetic. What can I do? Why don't I know what to do? If I was better- maybe if I could remember my past, would there even be an inkling of helpful information there? Or am I just utterly useless?

"Something sharp. Fresh water- we need water- and some fabric," Jackie reaches the edge of the pool and hoists herself onto the rock. She's so calm and collected. Sharp and smart. Useful. Her hand lingers on Lucy's cheek before she jumps up and rips a strip off her shirt, twisting it so that water splashes out onto the rocks. "I said, get something to hold water."

If only this stiff, metallic band around my wrist would snap in two, I could lift the water out of her lungs myself. Wouldn't that be easier than... whatever they're doing to Lucy?

I find a rock with a shallow dip in it, eroded from the water, and yank it from the rocky pavilion leading to an outlook over the pool. Dust explodes and rocks tumble down. I fill it and rush back so fast half the water splashes out. I'm winded from the swim up, but I force my breathing to be even, even as my heart throbs dangerously fast inside of my rib cage.

My wings are heavy, dripping with the weight of the water, but Lucy looks light- so light and small, it seems as if she could float away if I even so much as breathe too harshly. It's because her breathing is so shallow, despite her racking coughing, and that her thin brown hair has come out of its careful braid Harriet had tied only this morning and dried in small wisps that float around her face.

I find myself wishing that the Lucy who threw a pillow over my head hard enough to make me fall over, who yanked me along twisted rooms, who was the first of the girls to warm to me was here, grinning at me with her gapped teeth instead and not this silent, small little girl lying quietly on the rocks.

I notice that it's the first time I think of her as so small and delicate. Of course, all this time I've felt protective over her, but now I feel as though she could shatter into a million pieces at any moment and all I want to do is run to her and hold her together as well as I can with an embrace to revive her.

I'm pretty sure that's when a sob hits me, hard.

Get yourself together. You can't help standing here like this.

I feel myself detach from the emotions, the reality like I'm putting on a mask. I would be frightened if I was paying attention to how I feel. I make sure to be gentle with her as I tilt Lucy to the side, I think that's what I'm supposed to do.