Imagine Me - Tahereh Mafi

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to help.

      Emmaline would never allow it.

      Maybe I got this far only because she was too busy to notice me right away—to sense me here, in my invisible state. It makes me wonder what else she’s done to keep this area clear of trespassers.

      It makes me wonder if I’ll survive.

      It’s growing harder to think. It takes forever to fuse thoughts. Takes forever to move my arms. To lift my head. To look around. By the time I manage to pry open my mouth, I’ve forgotten that my voice makes no sound.

      A flash of gold in the distance.

      I spot Warner, shifting so slowly I wonder whether we’re both suffering from the same affliction. He’s fighting desperately to sit up next to J—J who’s still on her knees, bent forward, mouth open. Her eyes are squeezed shut in concentration, but if she’s screaming, I can’t hear it.

      I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t terrified.

      I’m close enough to Warner and J to be able to make out their expressions, but it’s no good; I have no idea whether they’re injured, so I don’t know the extent of what we’re dealing with. I have to get closer, somehow. But when I take a single, painful step forward, a sharp keening explodes in my ears.

      I cry out soundlessly, clapping my hands to my head as the silence is suddenly—viciously—compounded by pressure. The knifelike pain needles into me, pressure building in my ears with an intensity that threatens to crush me from the inside. It’s like someone has overfilled my head with helium, like any minute now the balloon that is my brain will explode. And just when I think the pressure might kill me, just when I think I can’t bear the pain any longer, the ground begins to rumble. Tremble.

      There’s a seismic crack—

      And sound comes back online. Sound so violent it rips open something inside of me, and when I finally tear my hands away from my ears they’re red, dripping. I stagger as my head pounds. Rings. Rings.

      I wipe my bloody hands on my bare torso and my vision swims. I lunge forward in a stupor and land badly, my still-damp palms hitting the earth so hard the force of it shudders up my bones. The dirt beneath my feet has gone slick. Wet. I look up, squinting at the sky and the sudden, torrential rain. My head continues to swing on a well-oiled hinge. A single drop of blood drips down my ear, lands on my shoulder. A second drop of blood drips down my ear, lands on my shoulder. A third drop of blood drips down my—

      Name.

      Someone calls my name.

      The sound is large, aggressive. The word careens dizzily in my head, expanding and contracting. I can’t pin it down.

       Kenji

      I turn around and my head rings, rings.

       K e n j i

      I blink and it takes days, revolutions around the sun.

       Trusted

       friend

      Something is touching me, under me, hauling me up, but it’s no good. I don’t move.

       Too

       heavy

      I try to speak but can’t. I say nothing, do nothing as my mind is broken open, as cold fingers reach inside my skull and disconnect the circuitry within. I stand still. Stiffen. The voice echoes to life in the blackness behind my eyes, speaking words that feel more like memory than conversation, words I don’t know, don’t understand

       the pain I carry, the fears I should’ve left behind. I sag under the weight of loneliness, the chains of disappointment. My heart alone weighs a thousand pounds. I’m so heavy I can no longer be lifted away from the earth. I’m so heavy I have no choice now but to be buried beneath it. I’m so heavy, too heavy

      I exhale as I go down.

      My knees crack as they hit the ground. My body slumps forward. Dirt kisses my face, welcomes me home.

      The world goes suddenly dark.

       Brave

      My eyes flicker. Sound hums in my ears, something like dull, steady electricity. Everything is plunged into darkness. A blackout, a blackout in the natural world. Fear clings to my skin. Covers me.

       but

       w e a k

      Knives bore holes into my bones that fill quickly with sorrow, sorrow so acute it takes my breath away.

      I’ve never been so hopeful to cease existing.

       I am floating.

       Weightless and yet—weighted down, destined to sink forever. Dim light fractures the blackness behind my eyes and in the light, I see water. My sun and moon are the sea, my mountains the ocean. I live in liquid I never drink, drowning steadily in marbled, milky waters. My breathing is heavy, automatic, mechanic. I am forced to inhale, forced to exhale. The harsh, shuddering rasp of my own breath is my constant reminder of the grave that is my home.

       I hear something.

       It reverberates through the tank, dull metal against dull metal, arriving at my ears as if from outer space. I squint at the fresh set of shapes and colors, blurred forms. I clench my fists but my flesh is soft, my bones like fresh dough, my skin peeling in moist flakes. I’m surrounded by water but my thirst is insatiable and my anger—

       My anger—

      Something snaps. My head. My mind. My neck.

      My eyes are wide, my breathing panicked. I’m on my knees, my forehead pressed into the dirt, my hands buried in wet earth.

      I sit straight up and back, my head spinning.

      “What the fuck?” I’m still trying to breathe. I look around. My heart is racing. “What— What—”

      I was digging my own grave.

      Slithering, terrifying horror moves through my body as I understand: Emmaline was in my head. She wanted to see if she could get me to kill myself.

      And even as I think it—even as I look down at the miserable attempt I made to bury myself alive—I feel a dull, stabbing sympathy for Emmaline. Because I felt her pain, and it wasn’t cruel.

      It was desperate.

      Like she was hoping that if I killed myself while she was in my head, somehow I’d be able to kill her, too.

      J is screaming again.

      I stagger to my feet, heart in my throat as the skies wrench open, releasing their wrath upon me. I’m not sure why Emmaline gave the inside of my head a shot—brave but weak—but I know enough to understand that whatever the hell is happening here is more than I can handle on my own. Right now, I can only hope that everyone in the Sanctuary is okay—and that Nazeera gets back here soon. Until then, my broken body will have to do its best.

      I push forward.

      Even as old, cold blood dries in my ears, across my chest, I push forward, steeling myself against the increasingly volatile weather conditions. The steady succession of earthquakes. The lightning strikes. The raging thunderstorm growing quickly into a hurricane.

      Once I’m finally close enough, Warner looks up.

      He seems stunned.

      It occurs to me then that he’s only just seeing me—after all this—he’s only just realizing I’m here. A flicker of relief flashes through his eyes, too quickly replaced by pain.

      And then he calls out two words—two words I never thought I’d inspire him to say:

      “Help me.”

      The sentence

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