Bang (Black Lotus #1)(98)

Wishes.

I could make an infinite amount of them with all the stars that shine down upon me. But I’m not lying on the ground. I don’t feel anything as I float in negative space.

Where am I?

How did I get here?

And then I see him. My old friend. He never changes and that constant nurtures the despair that has always followed me. His green and yellow accordion body slinks over to me, and it’s then that I realize how small I am because he appears to be the same size as me.

“I’ve missed you,” he says in his eloquent English accent.

“I’ve missed you too, Carnegie.”

“Where have you been?”

“In hell.”

“Is that why you came back?” he asks.

“I don’t even know how I got here,” I tell him, and he smiles, saying, “Maybe someone knew you needed a little break from hell,” as he gives a nod up to the heavens.

“Maybe,” I whisper and roll over onto my belly. It’s then I see where I am. Large, green blades of grass standing high above the mass of earth beneath. Gigantic trees that border a sea of dark water. Brilliantly massive blooms are illuminated by the full moon above, casting its glow on the array of colorful, exotic flowers; pink, orange, yellow—but no purple in sight. And when my eyes shift down, I take in a breath of awe when I realize why Carnegie doesn’t look so tiny. My body, a tube, roped in pink and black, and when I look back at Carnegie, he laughs, “It’s spectacular, isn’t it?”

“I’m a caterpillar!” I say in wonderment. “Carnegie, do you see this?!”

“I do.”

And then it all comes together. I finally made it. I’m here . . . in the magical forest . . . and I’m a caterpillar, floating in a pond that seems like an ocean because I’m so tiny. I begin laughing as we float on our lily pad raft.

“It’s good to see you smiling,” he says as I scoot around the large, green leaf, reveling in my new form.

Meandering around, I respond, “It’s been a while since I’ve felt this free.”

“May I ask you a question?”

Giggling after I round my body into a ball, discovering I can roll, I take a few seconds to play around before acknowledging his request, answering, “Of course,” as I straighten my body and inch over towards him.

“Why do you feel like you’re in hell?”

His question dulls my zealousness, and when I flatten my body against the lily pad, I tell him, “It’s always been hell, Carnegie. But lately, it’s become overwhelming.”

“What happened?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Look around,” he says. “I’ve got nothing but time.”

“I’m sure, but to relive everything isn’t something I wish to do.”

“Then tell me what happened last.”

I blink and then look up at the black sky, glittered in stars, and tell him, “I fell in love.”

“Ahh, love,” he says as if he’s wise in that spectrum, so I ask, “You ever been in love?”

“Me?” he questions and looks out over the water. “No. I was turned into a caterpillar before ever having the chance to experience such an emotion. But I wonder why it’s hell you feel.”

“The love is the only part of this story that isn’t hell.”

“Tell me what it feels like. Love.”

A few fireflies above catch my attention, and as I watch them making skittering dashes of swirling light, I answer, “Amazing. It’s like an urgency that can never be sated because you can’t get enough. One day, you’re walking through life, thinking you’re satisfied, well, as satisfied as you can be, and then, when you finally feel the click and get your first taste of love, you realize you’ve been starving your whole life but never knew it. And that one person is all you need to truly feel alive.”

“And you found that?”

Giving Carnegie my attention again, I reply, “Yeah. I never knew what it felt like to breathe until I met him.”

“So what’s hell?” he asks.

“The man I’m married to.”

“The one who allows you to breathe?”

“No, the one who slipped the noose around my throat and caused me a life of suffering,” I tell him as his beady eyes widen.

“I’m confused.”

“I married my enemy,” I begin to explain. “And the man I wound up falling in love with was someone who I was supposed to trick into killing my husband.”

“Why do you want your husband dead?”

“Because when I was five, I was ripped away from my dad. He was arrested and went to prison where he was eventually murdered, and I went to a horrendous foster home.”

“What does your husband have to do with that?”

“Everything,” I say as we continue to float around the smooth water. Releasing a deep breath, I begin telling him the story of my father’s arrest and how Pike was determined to find answers for me when we were older.

“It took a while, but after going through my father’s police records and Pike blackmailing his old caseworker for my file, we finally found out that it all started with a child abuse claim. We kept digging because my father was the kindest man I knew and had never laid a hand on me. And then we found it. A call was made to DCFS from the Vanderwal family.”