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“That looks really bad, Vi,” she says quietly. “We need to get out of here. Just leave him. It’s an act of mercy at this point.”
My goal was always to incapacitate, not to kill, but I know I will spend the rest of the Race, and potentially my life, looking over my shoulder for Amio because our paths are now entwined. My grip on my dagger wavers briefly as I consider the implication of that.
“He acted of grief, not of wisdom. It doesn’t have to be like this,” she murmurs softly, her hand reaching to clasp mine around my blade.
Panting, Amio grins painfully, hands still trying and failing to contain the blood that flows from his side. “Listen to your friend, Viola. Let me go. Show more kindness than your parents ever did.” The dig lands, and I step towards him, bending my knees to be eye to eye with my attacker.
“I spent my whole life training to Race,” I say, slowly twirling my blade between my fingers. “It was the most important thing to my parents - that I one day win. Other parents believed the most important thing they could do was to love their children wholly. When I was young, I was envious of that. But today? I am glad that I know the only thing that matters is winning this fucking Race.”
Max screams as I calmly slide my blade across Amio’s throat.
A silence hangs heavy between Max and me. She has not spoken to me in the hour since we left the hollow, Amio’s lifeless body sprawled along the rock floor. I have tried to get her to talk to me, to yell at me, anything at all. But she is stoic, her gaze trained forward as we walk through the woods in the shadow of the setting sun.
I tried a few times to capture her attention, explain my motivations, and justify my actions. It fell on deaf ears. I don’t know if Max will ever look at me the same way again.
I need to make her understand that this choice was for the best. Whether it was during the Race this year or next, Amio would have found me, and it would have ended the same way. I’m lucky he didn’t gut me when we slept together. His fury at my parents must not have been more of a driving force than the desire to bed me.
Whether it happened here today or next year, one of us was going to kill the other. I just sped up the process a little. Couldn’t she see that was what was best for everyone?
Max’s body is tense from carrying the guilt for not stopping me. I stop walking and turn to face her. I extend my hand and press it against her chest so she has no choice but to stop moving. Frustration flashes across her face, and she gnaws anxiously on her lower lip, the edges of it already showing signs of abuse from the action. No matter how I turn my face to lock eyes with her, she won’t meet my gaze.
“Max,” I say softly, gently, trying to get her to take a breath and remember who I am. “Max!” Louder this time, a small amount of frustration bubbling up in me from this indelible event that changed our friendship.
“What do you want from me, Vi?” she asks, her voice low, defeated. Her expressionless face is a mask of resignation and defeat as she slumps down to the earth and digs her fingers into the moist ground. “You murdered him.”
Murder.
Logically, I know that is what it was. But it doesn’t feel that way, not to me. I have been raised in a world that does not value human life and condemns people to death because they cannot pass an arbitrary standard set by those who do not hold themselves to it. If my life isn’t valued, why should I attribute value to anyone else’s? Death is all around us, in the fabric of our society. I did what anyone else would do in that situation.
I drop my knee into the soil, training my gaze on Max. “It wasn’t murder, Max. It was survival.”
She scoffs, shaking her head at me, and the look in her eyes weakens my resolve. “That wasn’t survival. He wasn’t going to win the Race. Hell, he would’ve been lucky just to finish after that type of injury. We could have left him in our dust and been on our merry way, and you slit his fucking throat.” She spits out those four words, and I flinch back. “How can I ever feel safe with you again?” she implores, eyes shiny with tears that are being willed not to fall. “I asked you to give him mercy, and you became a monster before my eyes.”
The words do not resonate with me the way they should have. Maybe some fundamental part of me is broken. “I know you asked for mercy on his behalf,” I begin, as soft and gentle as I can muster. “There is no mercy in the Race, Max. You’ve always known that.”
She’s on her feet now, angrily pacing in front of me. “Bullshit, Vi. That’s bullshit, and you know it.” Her anger erupts through the surface in a way that I am unsure I will be able to tame. I have never seen Max lit up like this before.
“You were faced with a choice, Viola. One your parents apparently were also faced with. You had the opportunity to be different than them, and you chose wrong.”
Locking eyes with my oldest, and arguably only, friend, the affection we’ve held for each other over the years floods my vision. I remember a young Max, defiant and strong-willed, much as she is today, but without the control. She was a hurricane and a sight to behold. I have always managed to calm that hurricane, but today feels like a more considerable challenge than before.
“I know you’re right, Max. I do. And maybe I’ll live to regret my choice. But all that matters to me is that I fulfill my promise to you that we will win the Race and live the life we have dreamed of.”
Max steps back, almost tripping over her feet to move away from me. “I watched you slit a man’s throat with no reaction,” she says, her voice quiet and hurt. The evidence of my crime is still with me, caked on my hands, clothes, and shoes. There was more blood than I expected, and the scent of it filling the grotto made my head buzz. It was as if I could feel every mistake Amio had made until that point as the life drained from him.
“I did not recognize the woman that stood in front of me,” Max says, softer this time. “She was inhuman. Unfeeling and cold.”
I am steadfast in my belief that Max will come around and forgive me as she always does. In the meantime, I need to figure out a way to diffuse this situation so we can continue our journey. We cannot afford to lose more time if we hope to win. I step towards her, putting my hands on either side of her face and pressing my forehead to hers. I inhale her scent, which is usually sweet and sharp but is now mixed with wet dirt, sweat, and blood.
“I’m sorry, okay? I know you wanted and expected better of me, and I am sorry I couldn’t be that for you. I’ll keep trying. Instinct overrode my rational mind, I guess.” I don’t believe my own words, but I know she needs to hear them.
I do not regret what I did. It was necessary; it was just. He attacked me first, and I could not let him get away with that. But my friendship with Max hinges on her believing that I do regret my actions.
Fat, brutal tears fall down her face, making paths in the layer of dirt that has collected throughout our journey. Slowly, she nods and finally makes eye contact with me again. “I know your parents fucked you up, and I have always loved you despite it. Please, for me, try to keep yourself grounded in your humanity.”
Chapter 11
Zeph
