Passenger

Chapter 13

The day passed quickly enough for me. With his tests complete, Doctor Petre vanished into his lab for a few hours to design his medicine for Krys' wings, warning Neb and Krys not to touch anything if they weren't absolutely sure they knew what it was. Thankfully, they both listened, which was good for me - I wasn't exactly in the mood to watch anyone lose a finger fiddling with something they weren't supposed to.

Then Petre emerged, bringing some food with him so the three could eat. And then, before I realized, it was past evening, and Krys turned in to sleep, leaving me along with my thoughts.

The night was the long one for me.

Krys seemed to fall asleep fairly easily again; not that I was paying much attention. I was too busy staring down at my hands, floating next to the window.

I was thinking too much. That was the simple explanation. I was remembering everything that had happened that I had forgotten. It was like they had been repressed before now, locked away - but now they were back, vivid as the day that had happened.

Rose. The frightened young girl that my parents brought home one cold, rainy night. One with black wings and crystalline brown eyes. I didn't understand how I could have forgotten all the years we had shared growing up together. Studying, training, pranks on Leif and dad...

And then she killed me. I could still feel the pain of that wound, the cold steel in my flesh, my consciousness fading. And that last image I had of Rose that was permanently burned in my memory - the wild look in her eyes, the twisted grin, and covered in blood. Mine included.

Some dark part of myself wondered how exactly I had died. Did the stab pierce my heart? Did it cut a lung and suffocate me? Bleed to death in the dirt? I had no clue. I just remembered the cold that had come after it. A bitter chill through my entire being that brought a new understanding to the phrase 'dead cold'.

"stop it." I growled, trying to push away the dark thoughts. When it didn't work, I ground my teeth and looked out the window. "doing this isn't going to help, it isn't going to fix anything. Just cut it out."

Maybe I spoke a little bit louder than I meant to, because a moment later, there was rustling behind me. I didn't think much of it until I heard Krys' voice. "are you alright?"

I glanced over my shoulder to see Krys sitting up. "what?" I asked, not understanding what he had said for a moment. "oh. Yeah, I'm fine."

"you don't sound fine." Krys noticed. "and you were pretty upset earlier, too."

I got irritated. "well, what do you want me to do? Wake you up in the middle of the night so I can complain about things?" I questioned, glaring at him. "sorry, didn't think about that."

As always, Krys kept calm. "well, I'm already awake. You can talk to me know, can't you?" he offered, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed. "so, what's wrong? It could help to talk about it."

"yeah, sure. Let's talk about the fact that I'm getting trauma from my own death." I replied sarcastically. "that'll definitely help."

"it already is. You're sarcastic instead of angry."

I stopped at that. Crap, did he already have figured out that well? "well...I guess." I muttered, folding my arms. "alright, fine. What do you want to ask?"

The Avian thought for a moment. "can I ask what Rose was like?" he asked softly. "I mean, before...you know."

"before I was killed."

"well, yeah..." Krys grimaced. "I'm trying not to upset you, okay? I'm not sure what to say."

I sighed. "thanks, but you're better off not mincing words with me." I told him. "honestly, just be blunt. I got enough flowery vocabulary dealing with nobles and all that."