dark like this.
“Eva? Are you still trying?”
I said, almost crying.
“I know it’s hard,” he said.
My voice reverberated shrilly in the chasm that had stolen Addie.
He didn’t hear, so he couldn’t respond. Instead, a new voice broke through the darkness. Lissa? Hally?
“Eva, trust us.”
Trust them!
“The medicine will wear off in a little bit,” she said. “So please, please try.”
I tried. I lay there in the dark, listening to them talk at me, and tried for what seemed like hours. Finally, exhausted and ready to scream, I stopped.
“That’s right,” Lissa said. “That’s good. Keep going.”
“You’ve almost got it,” Ryan said. He’d said it at least ten times.
I raged.
I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t. I wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t good enough, wasn’t tough enough. It had been too long. And Addie—Addie was gone. I couldn’t do it without her. I had never done anything without Addie.
I’d dreamed so long of being able to move again, every fantasy tasting equally of longing and terror. But I’d never dreamed I would be alone like this. That it would happen like this.
“Come on, Eva.”
No. No—
“You can do it.”
Shut up . Shut up shut up shut up . I can’t do it. I ca—
“Eva—”
“I can’t!”
Silence.
“Eva?” Lissa breathed. “Eva, was that you?”
Me?
Oh.
Oh.
“ Ryan —did you hear that? Did you hear her?”
My head spun.
“Can you do it again?” Ryan said.
I’d spoken. I’d formed words and moved our lips and tongue and spoken.
They’d heard my voice.
I said.
From far within the abyss, a pulse.
Again the pulse. Then came a feeling like the drawing of a breath. A tendril of something as light and insubstantial as dawn haze floated from the chasm.
it whispered, warm and frightened.
Then she was back, bleary-eyed and weak and confused, but back, back, back, filling that terrible hole inside us. Making us whole again. Making us how we were meant to be.
she said.
I said. I was laughing, almost crying in relief.
She believed me. She kept our eyes closed, and she relaxed little by little.
she murmured.
Seven
A ddie was still woozy five minutes after she awoke, swaying when she tried to sit up. She moved as though through syrup, each limb thick and unwieldy.
she said. We could see Lissa and Ryan now, and they were crouched by the sofa. They kept talking, their words washing over us but barely sinking in. Addie wasn’t listening at all. I heard enough to know the drug would take a little longer to wear off completely.
I said.
she said.
I didn’t tell her anything she didn’t ask about. I didn’t tell her what had happened while she slept. I didn’t tell her I had spoken.
I didn’t think she was ready to know.
Addie strengthened, her presence growing less tenuous beside mine. She kept blinking, like someone trying to clear away a dream.
“Addie?” Lissa said. She reached toward us, then pulled her hand away again at the last moment. “Are you okay now?”
Addie started, as if noticing her for the first time. “You—you drugged me.” Her words were slurred.
The siblings looked at each other.
“We had to,” Lissa said. “It’s so much easier with the drug—”
“What’s easier?” Addie said.
Another glance between Ryan and Lissa. The sofa was solid against our back. Our fingers dug into the rigid fabric.
“Didn’t Eva tell you?” Ryan said.
Addie’s frown deepened. “How would Eva know?”
“Well . . .” Lissa tugged on a curl of her hair,
“Eva? Are you still trying?”
“I know it’s hard,” he said.
He didn’t hear, so he couldn’t respond. Instead, a new voice broke through the darkness. Lissa? Hally?
“Eva, trust us.”
Trust them!
“The medicine will wear off in a little bit,” she said. “So please, please try.”
I tried. I lay there in the dark, listening to them talk at me, and tried for what seemed like hours. Finally, exhausted and ready to scream, I stopped.
“That’s right,” Lissa said. “That’s good. Keep going.”
“You’ve almost got it,” Ryan said. He’d said it at least ten times.
I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t. I wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t good enough, wasn’t tough enough. It had been too long. And Addie—Addie was gone. I couldn’t do it without her. I had never done anything without Addie.
I’d dreamed so long of being able to move again, every fantasy tasting equally of longing and terror. But I’d never dreamed I would be alone like this. That it would happen like this.
“Come on, Eva.”
No. No—
“You can do it.”
Shut up . Shut up shut up shut up . I can’t do it. I ca—
“Eva—”
“I can’t!”
Silence.
“Eva?” Lissa breathed. “Eva, was that you?”
Me?
Oh.
Oh.
“ Ryan —did you hear that? Did you hear her?”
My head spun.
“Can you do it again?” Ryan said.
I’d spoken. I’d formed words and moved our lips and tongue and spoken.
They’d heard my voice.
From far within the abyss, a pulse.
Again the pulse. Then came a feeling like the drawing of a breath. A tendril of something as light and insubstantial as dawn haze floated from the chasm.
Then she was back, bleary-eyed and weak and confused, but back, back, back, filling that terrible hole inside us. Making us whole again. Making us how we were meant to be.
She believed me. She kept our eyes closed, and she relaxed little by little.
Seven
A ddie was still woozy five minutes after she awoke, swaying when she tried to sit up. She moved as though through syrup, each limb thick and unwieldy.
I didn’t think she was ready to know.
Addie strengthened, her presence growing less tenuous beside mine. She kept blinking, like someone trying to clear away a dream.
“Addie?” Lissa said. She reached toward us, then pulled her hand away again at the last moment. “Are you okay now?”
Addie started, as if noticing her for the first time. “You—you drugged me.” Her words were slurred.
The siblings looked at each other.
“We had to,” Lissa said. “It’s so much easier with the drug—”
“What’s easier?” Addie said.
Another glance between Ryan and Lissa. The sofa was solid against our back. Our fingers dug into the rigid fabric.
“Didn’t Eva tell you?” Ryan said.
Addie’s frown deepened. “How would Eva know?”
“Well . . .” Lissa tugged on a curl of her hair,
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