Page 166 of Into the Heartless Wood
rages
inside my own head.
He smiles. Blood and rain run down his lips.
The flaming trees paint him in orange light.
He says: “You’re not a monster.”
Pain blooms through me as my mother forces another branch to push out from my hands, to pierce his shoulder.
He cries out in
agony.
I cannot bear
his eyes.
I cannot bear
his touch.
I cannot bear
him dying
in my arms
because
I
am
killing
him
even now.
You must carve out your heart, and bury it in the green earth.
I push through my tears,
through the yawning horror
that engulfs me.
“Owen.”
He whispers: “Seren. I—I love you.”
The light dims in his eyes.
It might already be
too late.
