Page 188 of Because I Killed Him
The robots shout orders as they move, one team heading for Dickie and the other for me. In seconds, we’re strapped to gurneys. Robotic fingers check our vitals as IV lines click into place and monitors attach to our chests. Charlotte and Jack follow as Dickie and I are rushed toward the helicopter.
Edmund stays behind.
He’s still shouting over the Coppers, ramming his forehead into the muzzle of Irene’s plasma pistol again and again, as if daring her to fire. Irene stares, open-mouthed and trembling, until Edmund wrenches the pistol from her grip and hurls it into the lake. Then he turns on her with a final, ferocious shout.
Whatever he says is drowned out by the thunder of rotor blades, but it drains the color from Irene’s face. Her knees buckle, and the sergeant catches her by the waist. Her body folds as the last of her fire spills out of her like blood.
The Pinkies lift me into the helicopter, and the scene outside fades from view. Inside, everything is a blur of flashing lights, electronic voices, and moving hands. Dickie lies on the gurney next to mine, half-conscious, slurring as he complains about losing his airplane in the lake.
“It’s not just a toy, Jack,” he cries, tears streaking his freckled cheeks. “It’s mylife. You’ve gotta get it back.”
Jack squeezes Dickie’s shoulder, and as he murmurs reassurances, my hands dart to my swimsuit cover-up. I fumble under the strap, down my side, across every fold of tattered fabric.
It’s gone.
“The brooch,” I choke. “Char—the daffodil. It’s gone.”
Charlotte leans over me, eyes wide. “Shit. The one your dad gave you?”
I nod, a new pain forming deep in my chest. “I lost it. In the water—” My hands claw at my cover-up again, uselessly, as if I can make the brooch reappear by sheer desperation. “It’s gone.”
“We’ll find it, Lore.” She strokes my hair, her voice too calm to be real. “I promise. We’ll figure it out. We’ll get it back.”
The helicopter engine roars louder, and pressure builds in the cabin as the door begins to slide shut. A shout cuts through the air before Edmund hurls himself through the narrowing gap. A bloody bruise swells on his forehead where he rammed into the barrel of Irene’s pistol, blood dripping into his eyes as they dart around the cabin until they find me.
I try to sit up and reach for him when I feel the twinge of a needle in my arm. Warmth spreads fast, flooding my limbs and dragging my eyelids closed.
I blink once, and Edmund appears above me, framed by the window, his face lit in bursts as the first Founders Day fireworks explode across the sky. They crackle beyond the glass, white-gold against the black. One after another, violent, blinding, and beautiful, like stars torn apart.
“Loredana, I’m—” Edmund drifts closer, his hand shaking as it hovers over my mangled legs. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I say weakly, barely able to speak. “You heard me, Edmund. And you were fast enough, just like I said you’d be.”
The words make him flinch, his throat tightening in his collar. Slowly, he sinks to his knees beside me and encloses my hands in his. “I’ll fix you,” he says. “I’ll fix all of it.”
My eyes close, and the thoughts in my head darken, but before I go under, I manage a faint, trembling smile.
Because I believe him.
Though the guillotine waits to claim my head, its blade shall fall as a mercy—a kindness I shall welcome with open, trembling arms. For, to live among one’s fellow creatures bearing such disgrace, branded by dishonor so absolute, is a fate far crueler than death.
—CONVICTED FORMAL AGREEMENT BREAKER,
NAME STRICKEN FROM RECORD
CHAPTER 44
DAY ONE:
I surface in the Belvoir Infirmary. Overhead, white lights blur into halos, and through the haze, I see my legs wrapped in cold, heavy gel. Charlotte leans over me, her hand pressed to my forehead, her face twisted with worry.
“D-Don’t let them tell my parents, Char,” I rasp.
Her mouth hardens, as if she thinks it’s a bad idea, but she nods. “I won’t, Lore.”
My eyes drift groggily, catching the gleam of marble floors and brass panels. I’m in the high-citizen wing of the hospital, far beyond what my monthly allowance can cover. “I—I can’t afford this.”
“Don’t worry.” Charlotte’s fingers stroke my temple soothingly. “Edmund, Jack, and Dickie are paying for it.”
