Rebekah paused, contemplated their positions, and promptly grabbed the hand on her shoulder. In one swift movement, it was just as it had been in the kitchen; Isaac's arm was twisted harshly behind his back, and Rebekah was in control.
"I'm going back to the barn, Isaac," she whispered in his ear. Isaac made a soft sound of anger.
"Blasphemy," he growled. Yes, now he's set on violent, she thought firmly. "Release me at once, Rebekah!"
"If I let you go, you'd better let me walk to the barn." No response. Rebekah twisted his arm tighter. "Let me walk back to the barn and go inside. We can talk tomorrow -- if I decide you deserve it." Still no response. She started to twist his arm farther, but Isaac immediately made a loud whimper of protest.
"That hurts!" Rebekah winced involuntarily and let her grip loosen.
"Sorry." There was a long pause.
"Let me go, Rebekah," he murmured, voice soft and wounded. "I'll let you go to the barn." She hesitated, grip slackening even more.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes." Isaac squirmed and whimpered again. "Just let me go. My arm, and my stomach -- they're both sore. It hurts." Rebekah paused, then released his arm and backed away.
"I'm going to the barn. You stand there until I'm inside." She took a few steps backwards. Isaac stayed where he was, rubbing at his arm and glaring. Rebekah kept walking backwards.
"I'm not going anywhere," he said bitterly. She swallowed, then turned her back on him.
"Goodnight, Isaac." It was only a few steps until Isaac spoke again.
"Did you know," he said softly, "that in the Bible, Rebekah betrayed Isaac as well?" Rebekah stopped walking and turned slightly. He went on. "When Isaac grew old, he promised his son Esau a blessing before he died. Rebekah overheard and told her younger son, Jacob, to do as Isaac had said: bring him a venison and make him savory meat. In doing so, he would receive blessing instead of Esau." Rebekah paused, then took another step.
"I haven't betrayed you, Isaac," she whispered. "But you need to stop hurting me." Isaac's eyes flicked to the scratches on her cheek. He winced and said no more. "Goodnight, Isaac." She turned back around and continued walking. Rebekah thought she heard a whisper -- "No." -- but she dismissed it and started for the barn.
There was the soft crunching of earth, a grunt, and a surprising blow from behind.
Isaac had tackled her in a running leap. Rebekah hit the ground with a startled cry.
"What the hell are you--" She rolled over beneath him and pushed at his shoulders. "Get off, Isaac!" He pushed his pallid face close to hers, dark eyes wide and desperate.
"You have to listen, Rebekah!" Isaac's fingers tangled in her hair; Rebekah stopped struggling, lest he pull on it again. "Listen to me, just let me say what I need to say!"
"This is insane!" She squirmed a little. Isaac was surprisingly heavy for his size. Rebekah couldn't wiggle out from under him.
"No, not insane," he said softly, and leaned closer. "Rebekah, I need to tell you something. I have to. I've been trying, but I can't seem to get it out--"
"So the logical thing is to jump me?" She laughed, but it was high and unnatural sounding. Isaac squinted coldly.
"Just be quiet," he murmured. "Please, just be quiet and listen." Rebekah felt at her pocket and touched the knife handle lightly.
"Lean back a little, Isaac," she said, and he did. "You see this?" Isaac's dark eyes flicked to her where her fingers were. Then they widened. "If you don't let me up," Rebekah said quietly, voice stone serious, "I'll use it. Much as I don't want to, I will." She was wildly hoping he wouldn't call her bluff -- if he did, what was she going to do? Beat him over the head with it and hope for the best?
"Don't," he whispered, and swallowed. His eyes shifted back to her face. "Please."
"Get off me, Isaac." Rebekah stared at him solemnly. There was a long pause. Isaac slowly began to back away -- and then he dove for her hand. His fingers clawed at hers, trying to wrestle the knife from her.
"Give it to me, Rebekah!" he cried. She bucked violently and kept her grip tight.
"No!" Her voice was high, nearly a shriek. "Get off me, Isaac!"
"Give me the knife!"
"Stop it!"
"GIVE IT TO ME!" Rebekah struggled wildly. Isaac wouldn't let go of her hand, and it was getting harder and harder to keep the non-existent blade hidden. Suddenly, she decided that it would be a better idea to try the ridiculous -- if she had to beat him with the the bare handle, she would. Rebekah pulled the handle from her pocket and raised it like a knife.
And then Malachai was upon them.
It was a flash of blade that told Isaac at first he was there. Malachai's much bigger body slammed into his and made Isaac grunt; he nearly went flying, but instead toppled backwards. Malachai was over Rebekah now. There was a cry, a swish of blade on air, and a sickening slice. Isaac's mind raced.
(oh no oh no oh god no)
"Malachai!" He scrambled forward and shoved the redhead aside. Rebekah lay unmoving on the ground, her eyes staring upwards blankly. Her chest heaved -- a blossom of blood was blooming rapidly on her shirt. "Oh God," Isaac gasped, fingers probing wildly over her face as if it would stop the bleeding. Malachai was silent behind them.
"What--" Rebekah's chest hitched, and she turned her head to cough at the ground. There was more blood. "What hap--"
"Sh," Isaac whispered, stroking her face and hair gently. "Sh, don't talk, we'll get you help." He searched his mind desperately. What was the word he was looking for? "A doctor! We'll get you a doctor, Rebekah, you'll be fine--" Her gray-blue eyes blinked confusedly.
"Doctor?" Rebekah gasped, and smiled mirthlessly. "There aren't... any doctors... in Gatlin." Isaac felt the tears fill his eyes.
"No, no," he pleaded. "No, please, don't--" She coughed again. The blossom of blood was reaching the sides of her shirt.
"Should've... let me... go to the barn." Rebekah laughed, and the sound was dry and hollow. Isaac's throat tightened painfully.
"I just wanted to tell you," he whispered, carressing the sides of her face tenderly. "I wanted to tell you I love you, Rebekah." She squinted a little.
"Not that... hard to say," she concluded dimly, and coughed up more blood. Isaac sobbed hard.
"No, no, you're going to be all right--" He kissed her lips softly, but whimpered when he tasted blood and death. "Please, Rebekah, don't--"
"Isaac," she gasped, and then went limp. Her eyes froze, then became cool glass marbles.
She was dead.
Isaac stared at her in horror, then sobbed again.
"I love you," he whispered, and kissed her cold lips for the final time. He didn't pull away for a long moment. When Isaac finally did draw back, he stroked her hair tenderly.
"I only did as you asked," Malachai said from behind, quiet. Isaac's hands shook -- with rage or sorrow, he couldn't tell.
"Refresh my memory, Malachai." He coiled a long strand of tarnished gold around his finger and stroked it lovingly with his thumb. "Did I ask you to murder the one I love? Because if I did, it surely must've slipped my mind."
"You asked me to protect you!" he bellowed, getting to his feet. "You said to hide by the barn and see if she would get violent again! She raised a knife on you, Isaac!" There was a long pause. One hand still in Rebekah's hair, Isaac pried her fingers from the alleged knife. It had no blade.
"She raised a knife handle on me, Malachai," he whispered, and laughed through his tears at the irony. The redhead went silent. "Oh, Rebekah," Isaac murmured, shifting his gaze back to her face. It was the color of porcelain, four jagged scratches marring the perfection like streaks of rust. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"I didn't mean to, Isaac," Malachai said softly.
"So sorry," he repeated, and broke down completely.
In the barn, the children heard a high, agonized scream. When the scream died, it was replaced by loud, racking sobs. It wasn't quiet for at least half an hour -- when Malachai finally dragged Isaac away from Rebekah's body.