It’s pitch-dark outside. Priya paces out front of Darius’s house. She questions what she’s doing there. She questions her integrity, her oath as a citizen of Zalmon, her decision-making skills, her lack of resilience, and above all, why it’s so hard to say no to Darius Anah.
Priya looks over her shoulder, not only to see if anyone is watching her but also to gauge how far away the closest driver is in case she wants to bail.
Okay, she wants to bail.
She turns around to summon a driver —
But she’s stopped by the sound of Darius’s voice.
“Priya, wait!”
Priya hesitates, but then turns around. She eyes Darius in his doorway. She watches as his expression of fear morphs into a glimmer of hope at the mere sight of … her. She warms from head to toe. She knows she cannot let Darius down.
Priya jogs up the pathway. She’s never been here before. She’s forbidden to visit on account of having no official business at the home. But with each step, her sense of purpose grows.
Darius isn’t sure how to communicate his relief at Priya’s presence. All he can muster is, “What took you so long?”
Priya steps up onto his porch.
“She’s bad, Priya. Mahlah’s really bad.”
The two of them rush into the house and up the stairs.
In her bedroom, Mahlah paces from one end of the room to the other as she mumbles incessantly, barely audible, to no one in particular.
Priya and Darius tear in.
Priya tries to approach, but Mahlah won’t have it. She acts as if she’s possessed. Scared, Priya steps backward.
“Where’s your mother?” Priya asks Darius.
Mahlah throws a ceramic pencil holder that just misses Priya’s head.
“Leave me alone!” Mahlah yells as she succumbs to whole-body tremors. Darius grabs his sister to calm her, but she jumps at his touch and retreats to the far corner of her room.
Darius turns to Priya. “She’s absolutely freezing,” he says. “Please hurry up.”
Darius tosses Priya the brown paper bag with the insulin and syringe.
Mahlah spots the needle as Priya opens the bag.
“What is that? No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no …” She twists and wiggles, contained to the corner; Darius approaches her slowly. His hands reach out ahead of him to coerce her into submission. Mahlah grabs her head and rocks it to and fro wildly, heightening her state of confusion. Darius pounces on her and restrains her.
To Darius’s surprise, Mahlah stops suddenly. Her eyes pierce her brother’s. Her intense gaze darkens as she questions him. “Who are you?”
Darius swallows hard, holds Mahlah tighter yet, then yells at Priya, “Hurry up!”
Priya fumbles the needle; it drops to the floor, barely missing her big toe. She bends down to pick it up with her shaking fingers.
“Didn’t you say we have to check her levels first?” Priya yells back at Darius.
“Look at her, Priya! It’s obvious! We don’t have time. Just do it!”
Mahlah musters an incredible fight against Darius. She turns to him and punches him over and over with inconceivable, painful strength. Darius isn’t sure how to stop her. He tries to hold her arms still, to no avail. Mahlah’s jabs are animalistic.
Downstairs, the front door opens. Sela walks in holding a grocery bag filled to the brim with fruits and vegetables. She drops her house key on a small table and stops dead at the sound of the commotion upstairs.
A surge of fight overtakes Darius. He wrestles his little sister down and pins her to the floor. Darius has her in a bear hug, and Mahlah is finally still enough for Priya to administer the medication. Priya stands over them, loaded syringe in hand, but —
Sweat loosens her grip, and she drops it again.
“Do it now!” Darius screams.
“I’ve only watched them use syringes, Darius! I’ve never used one myself!” Priya cries as she squirts a bit of liquid out of the syringe. She raises her hand high and tries to steady it directly above Mahlah.
Sela hovers just outside of Mahlah’s room. She holds one hand over her mouth in shock while her other is airtight below her ear.
Mahlah jerks violently in Darius’s arms. He struggles to hold up her T-shirt to expose her belly for the shot.
Priya cries harder. “You do it, Darius! I can’t!”
“I can’t!” Darius screams back. “I’m holding her with all I’ve got!”
Priya is dumbfounded.
“Mahlah’s going to die, damn it!” Darius wails.
Sela bursts into the room, shrieking at the top of her lungs.
Priya and Darius whip around at her entrance.
Mahlah’s convulsions consume her.
“Mom! Get out of here!” Darius hollers.
Mahlah barks absurdities.
Sela studies her spasming daughter, on the floor in her son’s arms. Then she surveys the insulin bottle and syringe in Priya’s hands.
Sela runs across the room, rips the syringe from Priya’s hand, and drives it into her daughter’s skin.
Priya backs all the way back into a corner.
Darius holds Mahlah tight until she grows heavy in his arms and passes out.
Sela shakes her head at Darius.
“What are you shaking your head for?” Darius asks. “I tried to tell you she was sick!”
Sela holds her hand over her ear again and whispers, “Be quiet, Darius!”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head anymore, Mom. She’ll be fine. I got her these meds —”
Sela drowns out Darius’s words with incoherent screams as she waves her hands about.
Priya shields her eyes. Darius notices and shouts, “Don’t embarrass me! Not in front of her.”
Sela stills.
Everyone and everything is quiet for a moment.
“Mom, listen to me,” Darius starts. “Zalmon tried to kill Mah—”
Before Darius can get his sister’s name out, Sela loses it. She runs manically around the room, holding her ear. She grabs a pillow from Mahlah’s bed and holds it over Darius’s mouth.
Darius is too strong for her and frees himself. “Get off me! What’s the matter with you? I couldn’t breathe! You trying to kill me?”
Sela winces as if in pain. She holds her head to the side, favoring the apparent sensitivity.
Abram is cozy at home, dressed casually, reading the Book in bed. His phone rings. He shoots a look of disgust at the device, annoyed by its intrusion. He tries to ignore it but eventually answers its incessant chirps.
“It’s late,” is Abram’s hello.
An operator speaks into the other end. “Sir? There seems to be suspicious commotion with a Datura.”
Abram rolls his eyes. “Follow the routine,” he suggests. “Send a shock wave.”
“I did, sir. No change,” the operator says. She hesitates then adds, “It’s Sela Anah, from your special interests list, sir.”
Abram bolts up. He reaches over and turns a dial on a stereo receiver in his bedroom.
“Channel the Datura through to me, then disengage immediately. I’ll handle her from here.”