Page 73 of The Girl with a Thousand Faces
“I will!” she promises, sobbing. “I will go get help!”
“Don’t leave me alone!”
“I can’t get you out on my own, there’s no path down anymore,” Daiyu says. “I’ll be back.” She disappears from sight, her promise lingering as an echo that bounces off the cavern walls.
The time passes.
The tide rises.
Tears are all that remain. You cry for a while, because you are still just a girl,not even six, and the shock of it is awful. You regret everything you have ever done, your whole life and existence, and all that you have brought to this world; none of it is good.
But soon enough, the self-recrimination fades, replaced by resentment. The islanders who came knocking share this blame. They feared you, used you as a convenient excuse for everything that went wrong on Shek Ham Chau. Including the death of your parents. It is their fault you are here.
And above it all, your grandmother did not deserve to die like this. She did nothing wrong.
You are angry. So terribly, terribly angry about all of it.
Waves wash higher, slapping your belly. The tide is coming in, and when it does, the cavern will flood. You must not lie here crying, and need to get out first. Anger can come later.
Surge upright, away from the soggy, stinking mess that used to be Ahpo. Already, the ocean is dispersing the flesh and blood into a miasma. Leaning forward, you try to pull yourself along the ground.
Agony fires nerves in your back and sides from the heave of movement. That, you do feel, but only in your ribs, which are extremely tender. Something in there is broken, or at least bruised very badly. Your legs still feel nothing.
The panic becomes cloying. If you can’t walk, you can’t get out of here, and that will be a death sentence. At the moment, the cavern is covered in half a foot of water, and that’s in low tide. In a few hours’ time, it will rise enough that you will be in over your head.
No one can swim or climb with paralyzed legs. If someone doesn’t help soon, you will drown down here.
Just when you are about to despair, more shadows populate the shrinking patch of sunlight. Again, you look up, and again, you find the view obscured. Not by one head, but by several. The villagers are here, leaning over the edge. You can’t quite pick out their faces.
A fragment of joy lifts your spirits. Daiyu has kept her promise, and told someone.
“Help me,” you plead, anguished that your weak voice doesn’t carry very well.
No one answers you, but snippets of conversation trickle down in drips and fragments.
“… girl… too weak now…”
“—is that the little girl? Horrible—”
“… high tide! High tide in a few hours!”
“… treacherous… stairs damaged…”
“… Heaven’s will… God’s plan… is what she deserves.”
You stare up in horrified disbelief. They really are going to do it: they will leave you here to die.
As the villagers leave, one figure leans out farther: your big sister, Daiyu.
“I’m sorry!” She is crying, begging for your forgiveness. “I’m so sorry, little sister!”
“Stay,” you beg her, because you know she can’t help anymore. “Just stay with me!”
“I can’t,” she wails, sounding desperate. “I don’t want to watch!”
She disappears from sight for the last time. Your wordless screaming follows her. It is a sound that will pursue her for the rest of her life.
The time passes.
