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Runa

Time is hazy.

It feels slower than normal, though no part of my body seems to notice, my heart still drumming faster than ever inside.

My muscles are heavy, slow to move and impossible to lift.

My lungs struggle, each breath harder to take than the last.

It feels as if my chest is being crushed.

I’m slow to open my eyes, each lid almost sticking together, staying shut longer than I want.

Cotton candy pink tufts of hair obscure my vision, I can’t make out anything except the feel of a body on me.

America groans–no, she moans.

The sound registers between my thighs like a metal fork in a wall socket.

I wrap my arms around her, squeezing tight, her voice igniting something like a protective instinct inside of me.

What the hell just happened?

“Did we fall asleep?” She half-mumbles, her face still pressed to my breasts.

“I think Chewie put us to sleep.” I grit, annoyed at the overgrown foliage.

The girl perks up, her eyes darting wide open once she realizes the compromising position she is in.

She crawls backward to get off of me, but she’s just as woozy as I am from whatever was in that stuff.

I can barely see straight.

She wipes her hand over the green dust coating the ground, it sticks to her skin but comes off with just a flick of her fingers.

“What is it?” I ask her.

America rubs the powder between her thumb and index finger, bringing it to her nose and wrinkling it at the smell.

“Pollen, definitely.”

I groan, lifting my hand up to my temple to massage the throbbing, “I feel like I’m hungover.”

The girl nods, “She’s never done this before, then?”

I haven’t even finished shaking my head and America’s already pulling a little notebook out of her crossbody bag and jotting something down onto it.

“I suspect this trap will die in the next few days, she probably won’t feed, even if she cries of hunger.”

Her voice is sad, like she understands how hard this must be for Chewie.

“I wish there was something we could do to make it easier for her.” I whisper, gently grazing the back of my hand along Chewie's leaves.

America’s eyes perk up, “Wait a minute!” She practically bounces to a stand, leaving the room in such a frenzy that it leaves Chewbacca wailing.

The sound is painful, I can feel it in my chest, like kindling growing into a burning flame. It pumps through my ventricles, coursing magma through my veins.

“Come back!” I cry, everything too foggy and fuzzy to make any clear sense of what’s happening to me.

All I can do is hold Chewie while she shakes, her leaves trembling while a song of pure agony echoes from her open trap. It’s only a minute or two but it feels far too long without her, the plants’ discomfort becoming my own, nearly disabling me as it crushes me to the ground.

I writhe, squirming and whimpering, tears streaming down the side of my face as they fall into my ears.

“Holy Hellebore,” America gasps at seeing me on the ground, “What happened?” she drops to her knees at my side.

“You left.” I groan, “Everything hurts.”

“Woah,” Her eyes get big, full of fear as she crawls back a few inches from us.

Chewie makes the same pained sound again, this time, America is the one who keels over from the torment. “Ah!” She cries, clutching her chest, “What is that?”

I pull her onto my lap, comforting her in what way I can, her body melting once she’s over me. America sobs from a pain too intense. I know only because my own has barely tempered. I lean my back against Chewbacca, shuddering and shivering through the dulling throb.

After a few minutes she finally speaks, her voice soft and weak, “I was locking the shop door.”

I squeeze her tighter, grateful that she had thought of it because the entire day has only been one distraction after another for me. “I don’t think she wants you to leave.” I laugh dryly, coughing through the pain.

“Well why’s she punishing you for it too?”

I shrug, “Hurt people hurt people?” I ask.

“I have an idea.” America says, “It may help. Might be worth a try?”

“I’ll do anything.” I’m desperate at this point.

Her breathing begins to slow, return to normal as the pain dissipates and she’s able to focus again. “Well, what if she just needs nutrients? Like a fertilizer? To satisfy her cravings until she grows a new trap that can properly consume meals again.”

I sit upright, placing a kiss on her cheek, “You’re a genius!”

She grabs my wrist before I can leave the room, “I don’t think regular fertilizer is going to work for her.”

“Well, the store doesn’t really sell ‘enchanted-by-the-eclipse plant fertilizer’ so, I should start somewhere.” I’m debating how much I can trust her, but she’s the only person giving decent advice around here and if I don’t do something, Chewie is going to die. “I think maybe instead of feeding her… meat… maybe I just give her a liquified version?” I simplify as much as I can.

America nods energetically, “That’s brilliant! Do you need help?”

I chuckle, “I don’t believe that’s up to either one of us anymore. I think she’s calling the shots right now.” I bite my lip, “I don’t want to call this a hostage situation, but it’s safe to say you aren’t going anywhere, America.”

“Meri, actually. You can call me Meri.” She looks back at Chewbacca, a dimple on a single cheek forms from a half-smile. “And you might be right.”

Just then a scowl forms over her face, her attention is pulled to her pocket where her phone vibrates. Meri looks at the name glowing on the screen and sighs, “It’s my father.” Every bit of lightness she brought into the store with her is now gone and replaced with something that stinks of fear, and anxiety.

She turns toward the door but Chewie’s whine stops her from leaving. Meri looks down at the phone in her hand, hesitating before answering. “Hi Daddy.”

“Where have you been?” I hear his unnecessarily loud voice coming through.

Meri clears her throat uncomfortably, “I had a job interview.”

“Two days ago.” He cuts in, “Is your location turned on? I’m coming to collect you.”

She stutters, unable to answer, all the color draining from her cheeks.

“America?” He calls for her, but she just stares at me with a vacant expression, “America!”

“T-two days?” She whispers words I know are meant for me.

There is no way.

I take the phone from her hand and disconnect the call but she shakes her head, “It doesn’t matter, he has my phone’s location. He’ll find us.

“Why? You’re an adult? Right?” I look down at her phone screen, a family photo with a man that seems vaguely familiar but the date itself confirms it.

Two days passed while we were asleep.

No–not asleep. Enchanted, or something.

Your body still functions regularly when you’re asleep, and this… this was like being frozen in time.

“Yeah, I’m twenty five.” America derails my thoughts, her eyes fixed right at Chewie, “That’s not the point, and he’s going to take her away if he sees her.”

I scoff, crossing my arm over my chest, “Your father has no power in my shop.”

“You don’t understand,” she fidgets with her fingers, “My father is Truman Corsetti.”

The name rings a bell but I can’t quite figure out which one. “And?”

America sighs, “The senator”

My stomach sinks to the pits of Hell.

“Get out.” I point to the door, every inch of my body dripping in cold sweat, from fear.

She’s right.

If her father sees Chewbacca he’ll take her away.

Men like him are the very reason I moved Chewie from the shop storefront to the backroom, hidden from plain sight. Once she got too big I couldn’t answer questions anymore and the attention she brought could only chance negative things for us.

America’s eyes well with tears, but she nods, understanding that the situation isn’t fair for either of us. She backs away, but just as she turns to the door to leave Chewie shrieks a banshee sound, a shockwave of pain rippling through my blood vessels and knocking us both to our knees.

The agony is perpetual, it feels infinite, like its seeping into my bones, making its home there just from the suggestion of her leaving.

“I-I don’t think I’m going anywhere, Runa.” Her laugh is dry, there’s no humor there, only fear.

So much fear.

“How much time did you say we have?” My brain is already working double trying to figure a way out of this.

She looks down at her phone, her hands shaky from the nerves, “Thirty minutes, maybe forty five at best.”

It’s not enough time, but I’ll make do, “Help me load Chewie into my truck.”