Chapter Twelve

The room was silent, but Tamara couldn't shut out the voices of her inner angels and demons yelling at her, attacking her for what she'd done.

"I didn't mean to hit her," she said out loud. There was no one in the room with her, but still she pleaded as though someone would hear her and console her. "He was right in front of me, and I meant to hit him, but then...I don't know how she did it," she said. "I didn't mean to hit her."

She repeated those lines over and over again, promising some unseen being that she was innocent.

After what felt like hours, Tamara felt herself calming and coming back into her center. It was a hardened core inside of her, left over from her childhood in Medias, and though it had long strings of unraveled emotion dangling off it like yarn coming apart from a sweater, it was still strong enough to come back to like a warm fire on a cold night. When she needed it most, she could just let herself collapse back into it and become the simpler person she used to be.

She pulled herself together and drew her stature into poise, thinking of her sister in her graceful times. She stood up from the chair she had been cowering in and walked with purpose out into the hall.

She could hear them down at the end of the line of rooms, squeals of laughter from both of them floating down the hallway. Tamara closed the distance in four strides and slowly stuck her head around the doorframe.

The laughter stopped abruptly. “She’s here,” both the children said together. The boy clambered over the small table they were sitting at and put himself in front of Mond, staring daggers back at Tamara.

“I’m not going to hurt her, boy,” she said. “It’s never been her I was after. You come with me; I have some pills for you to take. I’ll leave Mond alone if you come quietly.”

He continued glaring at her. Mond stood up, and in doing so was still only barely taller than the boy was as he crouched in front of her. “I’ll take the pills,” she said, her voice quiet, mouse-like.

Tamara rolled her eyes. “I don’t need you to take the pills, Mond. It’s not you I’m worried about.” She looked the boy squarely in the eye. “They don’t hurt at all. Your mother took them while she was pregnant with you, so you’ve technically taken them before.” She put out her hand, indicating that the boy should take it and walk with her down the hall to the bathroom where the medicine cabinet was. He looked at it uncertainly. Tamara saw Mond lay a tiny hand on his shoulder and grip it tightly for a moment. As if that had been his cue, the boy stood up and nodded. He didn’t take her hand, but she hadn’t really wanted him to. She despised the feel of his skin; so smooth like her sister’s had been, and warmer than skin should be, as warm in life as her sister’s had been cold in death. Everything about him was unnatural and she hated the mere sight of him.

She walked behind him in the crowded space of the hallway, pushing him along by slapping him on the back every few steps. He was walking too slowly, fearfully. When they got to the bathroom, she pushed ahead of him and pulled out the pill canister she had stolen. She opened it and took out two pills, one pink and one green. She went to the sink and filled a ceramic cup halfway to the top with water. Then she turned around to face the boy who was backed heavily against the wall, as though he were trying to keep as far away from her as possible without leaving the room.

“Take them both quickly,” she said and held out the pills and the cup for him to take.

Again, he looked at them uncertainly, but did not take them from her. “What are they for?” he asked. Without Mond at his side, he sounded less sure of himself and more frightened.

“What do you mean?”

“What will they do to me? Why do I need them?”

Tamara rolled her eyes. “If we’re lucky they’ll have a side effect that keeps you from asking so many stupid questions,” she said. “They’re to keep you from killing anyone else like you killed you’re mother. Or don’t you remember that?”

She wanted to slap him, she always wanted to slap him, but Mond hated it when she did, so she bit him with her words instead. He was only four years old, even though he looked about eight, but she knew he understood what it meant to insult someone, to make them feel bad. She watched his frightened brown eyes turn dull with solemnity and hurt.

He took the pills, without losing eye contact with Tamara, swallowed them dry. Something about the sharpness of his eyes had always made her unable to look away whenever he wanted her to watch him. She could tell that he understood his powers, even if he didn’t realize that no one else had them. This knowledge made him dangerous. She had seen the danger in her sister; she had seen the child inside her take control over her body and mind. The pills had quieted the danger then. They would do it again. She had been without them for four years and it had nearly driven her to suicide. Mond was the only thing she lived for anymore. As soon as she was spoiled by the presence of this devil in their house, Tamara knew she only had the one option left. She fought that with every passing second, clinging to Mond, knowing in her heart that they were meant to be mother and daughter and that this obstacle of a child whom she could not kill but she could not let live should not be allowed to separate them.

For half a minute, Tamara and the boy stared into each other’s eyes, refusing to be the one to back down first. The constant fight should have kept Tamara fit and on her toes, young and proud and strong, but something about the boy made her weaker and paler and smaller. It would be hours before the pills would do any good, so she gave up, conceded defeat for now, and left to play with Mond and give her her daily lessons. The boy didn’t move when she did, so she closed the bathroom door behind her and jammed the handle so he couldn’t get out. He didn’t protest. He was well aware of the constancy of her hatred.