Out of the Dark (Light & Dark #1) (27 page)

“Run, run into the light, Lilly!” I scream and beg and plead until the monsters charge me, my new brethren sending me into the ground.

Clawed feet and hands hack at my back, scraping my skin away from my bones, and I watch her, my Honeybee, running for her precious life. Her little feet pounding the earth. Running toward the light that can save her. People are yelling from the tops of the towers and walls, shining their lights toward her, willing their illumination to grow brighter, to shine further into the darkness.

“Run!” I scream in pain and agony that has more to do with my fear for her not making it than anything else. “Run!”

And then the cold blackness envelops me, sucking me under as it wraps me in its warm embrace and sets me free, even as I fight against the freedom it so willingly gives. I go toward that darkness kicking and screaming, fighting with every instinct that I have. Fighting them, fighting it, fighting death, and the life that it wants to take from me. Fighting for the soul it is sucking from my fragile, death-riddled body.

I fought for Lilly, and for me, and for us. Because I was hers, and she was mine, and it would be that way until it was not. It had been that way since I had found her, hiding between the flowers in that bright sunflower field.

I would protect her, I would always protect her, until I could not.

I would be with her, always, until I could not.

And I would love her forever, even when I was not.

I am lost.

I am alone.

But I have loved.

Epilogue.

Lilly.

The time of monsters was over. That’s what they said to me.

The man with the green uniform carries me into a white room, with tiles on the floor and a table in the center. It smells funny in here and I wrinkle my nose at the smell. His voice echoes around the room even when he whispers.

“The time of monsters is over,” he says again. “You’re safe now.”

I think he is nervous because he keeps looking at me and his eyes are wide. When they opened the big door outside, everyone stared at me. Mama used to say that there were no more children left in the world—that I was probably the only one left—and I think she was right, because they look at me like I am special. Like I am the only one.

He keeps repeating that. Saying it over and over again.
You’re safe now. They can’t hurt you here
. But I was a monster. We were all monsters—that’s what Mama had said. It was inside of us all. It was inside of me, I could feel it. It made me feel strange. And it had taken mama away from me. I watched it change her. I watched her fear as she left me alone in the dark.

“I need you to drink this,” he says, placing a small cup on the table between us. His voice is soft, kind. I think he’s a good one, not bad like the rest. I want to trust him, but I’m scared.

“When you’ve drunk this, my friend is going to help you wash.” He smiles, and I think his smile looks strange.

I swallow. My throat is sore from crying. I want to swallow whatever is in the small cup because I am thirsty and it might stop it from hurting. I reach for the cup, still watching the man across the table. He smiles again, but this time his smile makes my tummy tickle.

“I washed today,” I say. But then I remember I peed myself and I would smell now. So I look down at the small cup again, feeling embarrassed.

“I need you to drink that, sweetheart. Then we can get you all cleaned up. You don’t need to worry now, you’re safe here.”

I don’t understand why he keeps saying that. It makes no sense to me. I pick up the cup and look at its contents. The drink is orange. It looks like pee. I feel bad again, so I swallow all of the drink, even though it tastes funny, so that I can wash and not feel sad because I peed myself. I’m a big girl now. Mama told me so.

I cry when I think of her. She saved me. She got me somewhere safe. But she couldn’t come with me, because the poison got her. I will be like her soon, and that scares me. Because it looked like it really hurt her, and I don’t want it to hurt me. I could see the pain in her pretty eyes that turned red, and in her lips that made a funny shape. Her pretty mouth that always made me smile. Her face had lots of lines on it, her eyebrows meeting in between her eyes. Those things all told me that it hurt her a lot, that it must have been the most painful thing ever to change.

A door opens and a lady and a man come in. They both have long white coats on. Everything here is very clean. Mama would have liked it a lot. She liked me to be clean, and to make my hair untangled. She said she would get me clean socks soon.

“Hello.” The lady kneels next to me, and I look at her. She is pretty like mama was. Her face is clean and her hair goes all the way to her shoulders. I like it. “My name is Doctor Marie Stentson. You can call me Marie if you want. I’d like to put this around your arm and check your blood pressure, if that’s okay. It won’t hurt, I promise.”

She asks me, and her voice is soft like Mama’s used to be, so I nod okay and hold out my arm, watching as she wraps the thingy around it. She pumps something and the thingy goes tight, and then the room is silent while she concentrates. I look at the other people. They all smile when I look at them, but they seem very sad. Marie looks back up to me, and unwraps the thingy from my arm.

“That’s very good, we still have time.” She smiles, and looks at the man that came in with her. She nods to him, and I get scared and start to cry again. “No, no, no, don’t cry. Hush, darling. Everything is going to be okay now.” She leans up and wraps her arms around me, but I feel even sadder because she isn’t Mama. She’s just a lady I don’t know, and her hugs don’t feel as warm as Mama’s did. “What’s your name?” she hums against my ear.

“Lilly,” I whisper back.

“Do you miss your mother?” she asks me, and I nod. “I’m sorry that she didn’t make it. But she would want you to get better. She would want you to trust me.”

I pull out of her arms and look into her face. She seems nice so I decide to be truthful. “I’m scared.”

She nods like she understands and her hair moves around her shoulders. It looks soft and I want to touch it, but I don’t because I don’t really know her.

“Don’t be scared. You’re going to be okay now. They can’t get in here.” Her voice is still soft and it makes me feel sleepy.

“Mama won’t let them,” I whisper, feeling angry.

“No, she won’t.” She smiles. “What was her name?”

I don’t need to think about this. “I don’t know,” I whisper back. “She never told me.”

Marie’s face looks funny. Her eyebrows pull in like Mama’s used to when she was worried, so I tell her some more things and hope that she understands.

“She found me in the bright place and kept me safe.”

“She found you?” The lady’s eyebrows scrunch up even more and she doesn’t look as pretty, but I don’t tell her that because it would be rude to. “She wasn’t your real mother?”

I shake my head no. She wasn’t my real mama, but she was because I can’t really remember my real mama anymore. I just remember that my first mama made me really frightened and looked like she wanted to hurt me, so I ran away from her before Daddy came home from work, and then I couldn’t find my way back. Then the world went dark, and I was scared and alone. Until my new mama found me. But I didn’t know her name. Perhaps I should have asked. I worry about that and think I must be very bad not to know her name, and then I start to cry some more.

The lady hugs me again, but I don’t stop crying for a long time. I feel tired and I yawn through my tears.

“I need to give you an injection and then we’re going to wash you.” The lady says. Her mouth smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes because she still looks sad. It makes me feel angry again. I don’t want to wash. I want my mama and I want her arms and her smell and her kiss and her touch, and I want to sleep. And I want a tomato. I cry when the lady gives me an injection anyway. I cry because it hurts when she does it, and it hurts me all over afterwards like I am on fire, and I cry because she did it when I wasn’t ready. And that’s not fair; she should have waited until I was ready.

“I wasn’t ready,” I say and cry some more.

“We never are, Lilly,” she says. But I don’t know what she means. “It’s okay. You can go to sleep soon, and when you wake up, you’ll feel better.” She stands back up and straightens her skirt. She holds out her hand to me and I take it, following
her, feeling sad and tired and itchy all over. But my eyes don’t hurt anymore and everything looks better than it did before everything started to turn pink.

My body feels strange. I don’t like it. I want to go to sleep but they won’t let me yet; they keep saying I have to wash. So I follow the lady and she helps me take off my clothes and she looks at my body and bites on her bottom lip like she is worried, and then she washes me with soap that smells funny and makes my skin sting. I cry again, and then I get angry because I don’t want to cry anymore. I want to be brave.

After I am washed and I smell nice again, she wraps a big orange towel around me and makes me dry. I like the towel because it is soft and bright and makes me think of the yellowy orange flowers that me and Mama picked and ate. I like thinking about Mama, but it makes me sad because I miss her. The lady—Marie—helps me into some clean clothes, a long T-shirt that goes to my knees and some shorts, which she has to tie at the waist to stop them from falling down. I like the smell of these clothes. The lady gives me clean socks, and I think they are new. And even though I am tired and sad, new socks feel nice on my feet and I wriggle my toes and want to smile, but I don’t—because even though I am clean and I have nice new socks, I still miss my mama and I wish she was here with me.

The lady takes my hand and walks with me to a small room. In it is a bed with pillows and a cover, and there’s a small brown teddy bear on the pillow. It’s not my teddy bear, not Mr. Bear or the one that smelled funny. But I don’t mind too much because it has two matching eyes and is soft and white. She helps me into the bed and pulls the covers around me.

“You’re going to be okay now, Lilly. Everything is going to be okay now,” she says. And I believe her. I blink and then I start to feel sleepy, and she strokes my hair like Mama used to. “It’s going to be okay. You’re safe now. The time of monsters is over.”

I close my eyes, listening to the distant sound of my mama’s screams in the air, and I feel safe and sleepy.

“Goodnight, Lilly.”