THE OMEN GIRL | Wattys 2020 Winner

𝟏𝟖

My new lie is that I am an old friend of Yashi's, one she taught signing and starsongs to, and so I have been assigned as caretaker over Naqi.

The boy doesn't question it. The doctors and nurses can't sign or write starsongs, so they can't refute it. I don't tell them, anyways, what it is I'm doing.

It's cruel, my lying. I know. I've lied enough for two lifetimes and three. I know. But fears rattle on in my ribcage. Most of those fears look the same: Naqi turns to me and his expression twists, and he says, I regret giving up my senses for you. I regret you.

Another fear, smaller, burrowed deep and deeper, sees Naqi turning to me and smiling and saying, ya'tuv mi-eh.

And I can't.

I can't.

I would rather that he regret me than accept me after everything I've done.

#

In the hospital cafeteria, as I eat, news from Tall Titan crackles from an old radio.

The people are enraged – at Lumi's death, at Naqi's abduction, at my disappearance. Injustice after injustice. So mobs have taken to assaulting Omens on the streets, or raiding known Omen hideouts, and the Omens retaliate with tooth and nail and scavenged weapons. Despite police presence, looting and violence break like hives throughout the city.

I can imagine it, the sounds of it all like firecrackers.

The food in my mouth no longer tastes like anything.

When I return to Naqi's room, I hear the shatter of glass.

Naqi had reached for the water on his bedside table and missed. The cup fell and shattered, but Naqi did not hear it, so he stepped unknowing into the sting of glass when he swung his feet down from the bed.

His foot is up on his knee when I see him. He's hissing. The glass is sunk into his flesh, and he touches it like it is a hot thing. He picks and picks, but his blood is slippery. He picks and picks, but he can't see how small the glass is. He can't see how deep it is. He can't see.

I step over to him. I reach to help, but then he's swearing, and I stop.

He fists a hand in his bedding. His fingers smear red where he clenches. He turns and covers his mouth, hides his face, but he can't hide the shaking of his shoulders. He can't hide his bandages that patch dark with tears. He crumples into himself, lower, lower, so his lap swallows his sobs. I'm not supposed to see this.

I step away. I exit the room. In the hall, with the door closed behind me, I lose my strength. I'm on the floor. The wall is cold and hard on my spine, and I wonder when, when?

When will the blade fall?

When will I burn?

#

He doesn't cry when he knows I'm around. He smiles. He signs things like: Gosh, you're looking quite nice today, Sozo. Did you get a new haircut? You sound like you're about to get a cold, Sozo. You should be careful.

And I have to tell him to stop being silly, and to slow down, because there's only so many signs I understand.

He asks me about me, about Lumi, every day. When is she coming? Have you talked to her? Seen her? I've told Naqi by now that she was the one who flew him to the hospital, and that she left soon after, because maybe she's a coward.