Wade
Our mothers killed themselves. No use trying to deny it. Sister suicides. One stole appeasement serum from the monthly stock and the other hoarded it. They killed themselves in the fields, where people go to die, to find peace. Same thing. They just couldn't handle the sadness anymore.
He and I stuck together, as family does. We were what we needed to get through the loss of our mothers.
We knew exactly where they were when they didn't come home that evening. By the time we got there, the coyotes were already calling to each other in their unsettling cries, as if they were laughing at what we had just lost.
He tried everything. He wouldn't even let me near them when he saw me holding the brushwood. I fended off the scavengers while he shouted and cried and shook them and tried to wake them up. I didn't come near him until he had grown still and silent.
We built a pyre for them. If we bury our dead, the coyotes dig them up.
It's been a few days now. Things have quietened down. They had to double the bread rations. People were calling for President Egret's resignation. They only stopped when a couple dozen extra Dauntless got shipped in and put everyone back in line. 'We have a harvest to get through. It's unfortunate, but life doesn't stop just because of one person.' Fucking disgusting.
It's my fault. I know that. I wish I'd listened to him before, wish I'd paid more attention. We are no strangers to loss. Accidents happen in our line of work, and we both learned early that it is unlucky and cumbersome to get too close. But maybe I could've helped. Or saved…
There are no words to describe him. I used to worry about him getting kicked out before, but now I have to try to accept a route where he doesn't make it at all. It keeps me up at night, more so than usual. I don't know if there's a word for a despair so deep it leaves you nauseous, where no matter how slow and deep you breathe, you can never get enough air into your lungs. But that's how it feels.
He keeps his head down. Barely eats. People carefully give us a wide berth. We prefer it that way.
It is sunny today. The leaves are copper, gold, even darkest purple.
I look out past the orchards, to the fields. The world is always spinning, trying to fling us away into the stars. We must cling to it with all our strength.