Page 32 of Mourning Wings
Idrop my hand and glance down at my fingers, blood smeared across my skin.Tearsspring to my eyes, hot and stinging, and beforeIcan stop them, they spill down my cheeks.Everythinghurts so much.Mybody feels broken.
Thepain, the fear, the exhaustion—they’re all too much.Iclose my eyes, crying silently, andIwonder why the guards left me here in the first place.Whydidn’t they take me?Didthey thinkIwas already dead?Ormaybe they just didn’t care.
Asmall, fluttering movement catches my attention, andIslowly open my eyes.Amonarch butterfly floats down from the dark sky, its orange-and-black wings illuminated by the moonlight.It’ssurreal, like something out of a dream.Iwatch, mesmerized, as it drifts closer, landing delicately on my knuckle, its wings fanning out, soft as silk against my skin.
Fora moment, the world seems to still, and a strange, quiet peace washes over me.Mybreath steadies, the tears slowing.
Ishut my lids again.Thistime, it’s not out of pain, but something gentler.
Forjust a moment,Ifeel okay.
WhenIwake again,the world around me is softer.Thesky is tinged with pale pinks and grays, the air cool and damp from the night.Myhead still throbs, though not as violently as before, andIcan hear my own shallow breathing.Thescent of pine and soil is sharp in the air, but something else cuts through it—a faint smell, like clean linen or soap.
Iblink, and suddenly,Isee someone.
Awoman is hovering above me.Myheart lurches, and instinctively,Itry to move.Panicflares in my chest, andIlet out a startled gasp.Istruggle to push myself back, and the pain surges in response.
“Shh…it’s okay.I’mnot here to hurt you,” she whispers, her voice calm.Shereaches out and gently grabs my hand. “You’resafe now.I’mjust trying to help.”
Iwant to believe her, but the fear is still there, tightening my throat.Mybody aches with every breath, the pounding in my head almost unbearable.Ican’t find the words to respond.AllIcan do is stare at her, wide-eyed, chest heaving, as my body trembles uncontrollably.
Thewoman shifts her weight, crouching down beside me. “Canyou stand?” she asks, her grip firm as she helps lift me off the cold ground.Itry to push myself up, but my legs feel like they’re made of lead.Shesupports me, easing me to my feet.Myhead spins again, andIsway, nearly collapsing, but she holds me steady.
“I’vegot you,” she says softly.Hertouch is careful, her hands strong as they keep me from falling again.
I’mbarely on my feet when she reaches into her bag and pulls out a small syringe.ThemomentIsee it, panic rips through me.Myheart kicks into overdrive, andIthrash, shoving her away with what little strengthIhave.
“No!Don’t!”Icry, my voice coming out raw and broken.
Shegrabs my arm. “It’sjust to help.Ipromise.”Hervoice remains calm, though more urgent now. “Thisis just pain medication.You’rehurt, andIneed to treat you, okay?”
Ikeep struggling, my breath ragged, but my body’s giving out.I’mtoo weak, and my mind is screaming in every direction.Still, something in her voice makes me want to trust her.
Shemeets my eyes. “I’mRachel.I’mpart of a group that rescues women in danger.I’mon your side,Iswear.”
Ihesitate, but what doIhave to lose at this point?I’mtoo exhausted to fight anymore.Irelax just enough for her to pierce me with the needle.Thesharp prick stings, but it’s nothing compared to everything else.
“Good,”Rachelmurmurs as she finishes. “It’sgoing to help with your injuries.Youprobably have a concussion, but this should dull the worst of it.”
Iwait, not sure what to expect, but after a few minutes, a warm numbness starts spreading through my limbs.Thesharp edge of pain in my head dulls, just enough for me to breathe again without wanting to scream.Ifeel strong enough to stand on my own.
Rachelslips an arm around my waist, supporting my weight as we start walking.Mylegs are still shaky, andIlean heavily on her, but it feels good to move again, even if every step makes me dizzy.Thetrees thin out ahead, andIcatch glimpses of an open road, an old truck parked nearby.
“Howold are you?”Rachelasks, her voice soft as she guides me forward. “What’syour name?”
Iopen my mouth to answer, but the words don’t come.Instead, a knot tightens in my chest. “I…Idon’t remember,”Ifinally manage. “Idon’t know whoIam.Ionly remember wakingup in a room, and…”Ihesitate, the memory flooding back, bringing fear with it. “Twomen.Theywere chasing me.”
Rachel’sface darkens. “Twomen?”Hergrip tightens slightly on my arm. “We’lltake care of it.Youwon’t have to worry about them anymore,Ipromise.”
Aswe walk,Rachelglances down at my wrist. “What’sthis?” she murmurs, lifting my arm gently.
Ilook down, too disoriented to have noticed it before: a bracelet—a hospital band, maybe—wrapped tightly around my wrist.It’sblank, except for a single date printed on it:November3, 1998.
Rachelstudies it for a moment. “Thatmust be your birthday,” she says quietly. “It’sall we’ve got to go on for now.”
Mybirthday.Itdoesn’t feel like much, but it’s something, a small piece of the puzzle.
Westep out of the forest, the sunlight breaking over the horizon in soft rays.Thetruck looms ahead, an old beat-up vehicle with dust coating its sides.Rachelhelps me to the back seat, where two other young women wait.Theyimmediately reach out, helping me get comfortable.