Page 52

52

A Mother Would

SOLARIS

T he darkness had stolen everything from me.

Every sense had been brutally yanked from my being, leaving me completely blind in every way.

I told my brain to move my fingers, but I felt nothing. I told my teeth to bite my tongue, bite it until it was bloody, bite it until it fell out of my mouth, but I felt nothing. I told my lungs to push a scream up my throat. Nothing. I begged my fingers to gouge out my eyes. Pain, I just wanted pain. I once thought pain was the worst thing, but I was wrong. Pain was proof that I was alive. Pain was a gift. A loyal, devoted companion that I had resented and taken advantage of. I wanted it back. Please .

This endless nothing was killing me slowly, but I couldn’t even feel myself die.

Or maybe I was dead. Maybe this was death.

I knew it wasn’t.

I knew it was only a matter of time before the light and sound returned. So bright it would be like knives in my eyes. So loud my ears would explode.

But even the torment of those ultra-intense sensations would be better than this.

Please , I begged. Make it stop .

Time didn’t exist. Every moment was stretched and bloated and fathomless. It could have been minutes or lifetimes and I’d never know the difference.

Until it all came rushing back in.

Pain in my eyes so visceral I thought needles were probing my brain. A sound so loud it shattered my teeth and ruptured my heart.

And the cold .

I tried to close my eyes. Tried to turn away.

My eyes were pinned open. My head was locked in place.

I thrashed uselessly against my restraints.

“Should we sedate him?”

The horrible sound in my ears was my own scream. I clamped my jaw shut, vanquishing it.

“Not yet.”

“Solaris, can you hear me?”

“Wait. Let him adjust.”

“Ugh. He’s vomiting again.”

“I told you not to feed him today.”

“I didn’t. It’s just bile.”

“Well, clean it up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Okay. You can leave. Let me be alone with him.”

“But—”

“ Get out .”

Footsteps walking away. A heavy door swinging opened then closed.

A figure looming over me. Blurry at first. Blonde hair, tied back. Intense eyes. She leaned over me, blocking out the white light. “Solaris,” she murmured. “Can you hear me?”

I was trembling violently. My teeth were chattering to the point of pain.

Pain, my friend. I clung to it.

I refused to answer her.

“Come on, sweetheart. Don’t ignore me. You know what they make me do if you don’t talk.”

I just wanted to shut my eyes. Tears poured out of them, sideways down my temples.

“I’ll let you spend an hour in the book room if you talk to me.”

The book room. I couldn’t help the desperate gasp that escaped me.

“That’s a good boy. Now tell me. Did you see anything?”

I groaned.

“Solaris, did you see anything?”

“No.” I forced the word from my raw throat. The metal table under me was cold, so cold.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

She sighed. “That’s very disappointing, Solaris. I thought you were going to try harder.”

Try harder? What did they expect me to do in a place where I couldn’t feel anything ?

“What about a voice?” she pressed on. “Did you hear a voice?”

Maybe I should lie. Make something up to appease them.

“No.” I hated liars.

She stared down at me, her eyes like a shark’s. I knew sharks because of the books. Sharks in the ocean were just animals. They weren’t cruel. It wasn’t their fault they were predators. They had to kill to survive; it was nature, not malice. They didn’t terrorize the ocean by choice. But the woman standing over me—she was a shark by choice.

“I think you need a little more motivation, Solaris.”

My heart dropped.

No .

“You are very important to us, Solaris. But your lack of cooperation is a problem.”

I wept as she pried all the equipment off my eyes. It hurt. She kept my head locked down. Gave me one last look of disappointed disgust before she left the room. I was only alone for a minute. Two other doctors, the mortal ones who weren’t allowed to talk to me, came in to wheel me out of the room. I watched the hallway go by. Took note of all the numbers on the doors, not like it would ever help me.

They brought me to my room.

“No,” I croaked. “The book room. I get to go to the book room. She said—”

They dumped me onto my cot and left.

I sat alone, twisting the cuffs on my wrists. If I didn’t touch them, I’d forget they were there. They were a part of me now. Just like the collar around my throat.

I soaked up every minute of solitude. Trembling, fretting. I knew what was coming but sometimes I could send my brain far enough away that I could forget. I’d think of my mother. I couldn’t remember much about her. Only her hair, long and soft. I couldn’t remember the color of it. Couldn’t remember her eyes. I knew she had soft fingers. Fingers that always touched me. A soothing voice, though I couldn’t recall exactly what it sounded like, that would sing me to sleep. She had a warm chest and a steady heartbeat. Sometimes when I thought about her, I saw snakes in my mind’s eye. Snakes that were our friends. In the books I read, snakes were always depicted as bad. But in my memory, snakes were my protectors.

My door opened.

A little girl stepped—no, was shoved—inside.

I shot to my feet on instinct. “Ra’ah!”

She was crying. She didn’t say anything as she rushed at me. We collided harshly but I didn’t care. We hugged and in that fleeting, unbelievable moment I wasn’t alone. It wasn’t going to last. It was nothing if not a horrible trick. But I held her all the same.

Ra’ah had long, black hair. I didn’t know why she was allowed to keep her hair. The rest of us had our heads shaved almost daily. Her skin was a deep, warm brown. We were close in age—she was ten and I was twelve. They told me that she was my sister, and it made no sense when you looked at us side by side, but I felt that it was true. There was a likeness to us. One that I couldn’t explain, only feel.

Wait.

If Ra’ah was here, that meant—

“They’re coming,” she whispered.

“I know.” My jaw trembled.

The door opened again and we flew apart like we’d been electrocuted. Showing affection to each other would only make things worse.

Horror clogged my veins like hot, thick poison.

One of them stepped through the door. It had to duck. The room instantly stunk—it was decaying. As they always did when they were running dry.

At it’s side was a child. A child younger than me and Ra’ah. With their shaved head and young features, it was impossible to tell if they were a boy or girl.

The thing’s long dark cloak pooled on the floor like dirty black water. Its gnarled, bony fingers peeked out from under the wide sleeves.

It stared at me through its gold mask.

The child beside it was crying. Urine seeped down their leg and made a dark yellow puddle on the floor.

“Please…” I spoke fast and breathy. “I’ll go back in. I’ll try again. This time—”

“You’re too late,” the thing said. Its voice sounded like more than one voice. Like several creatures speaking together.

“Choose,” it told me.

Ra’ah whimpered.

“I’ll make whatever you want! Any object you want. Any power. I’ll do it. Please—”

“Choose.”

I wished the snakes would come.

I knew they couldn’t.

“Please—”

“CHOOSE!”

We all screamed.

Tears poured down my cheeks. My entire body was vibrating.

Forget what I’d thought before. I’d take the darkness over this. I’d take nothingness over this.

Please please please

But I knew the truth. No one was coming to save us.

I couldn’t choose my sister. I couldn’t choose at all. But I definitely couldn’t choose her.

The word left but lips but my ears blocked it out.

Ra’ah and I stood far apart. I wanted to hold her but I was trapped in the horror of what I’d just done.

The other child’s screams filled the room and my brain wouldn’t allow me to tune it out. I heard it. I felt it in my stomach. The screams of terror and agony as the thing took off its mask and showed us its true face. A sight so horrifying it didn’t feel real. It couldn’t be real. Nothing—nothing could look like that.

My mother would protect us.

She and her snakes would protect us from this. She wouldn’t let the thing pick up the child and put its jaws on their throat and suck the life out of them while they sobbed and screamed for mercy. A mother wouldn’t allow this. A mother would grow ten times her size and strike fury down upon the thing with the horrible face and jaws and hands. A mother would a mother would a mother would—

“ Jesus fucking Christ .”

A new voice.

The room disbanded and dispersed and the walls were far away. I was standing alone now. Ra’ah and the thing and the other child were gone. A dull light flickered overhead.

“Oh my god,” the voice was saying. Over and over.

I turned toward it. Someone I’d never seen before was in my room. He was tall. So tall. He had a nice face, a face that looked like it didn’t belong here. His eyes were wide and deep blue, blue like the ocean I’d read about. His expression was twisted in horror. He was looking at me like—I didn’t have a word for it. He cared, I thought. Why did he care? He had a heart, not like the people and things that lived down here. He was good.

Why was he here?

“Solaris,” he said. His voice broke. He moved toward me.

I backed away. How did he know my name?

He reached out to touch me. His hand gripped my arm. His hand was warm—hot, almost. I looked down to where he was touching me. A shock jolted through me when I saw my own arm. It was big.

I was big.

The floor was further away than before.

I looked around, breathing hard. I didn’t live here anymore.

It’s not real.

No. It was real. It had been. At one time.

The pale room faded away. And then there was just black. A sea of endless shadows. A darkness so thick and expansive, it winded me.

I’d been here before. So many times.

But this time, I wasn’t alone.

“Jedidiah,” I whispered.