After Rebirth The Scums All Cry For Forgiveness novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: The Back Room

Locked in the same small room as last time, she is visited by her sick brother and sees that his tablets do not match the label.

The back room was exactly as I remembered it.

One wooden bed, one window nailed shut, one bucket in the corner.

The smell hit me at the door.

Damp wool, old sweat and the sweetish rot of a house that had never once aired this room.

My brothers pushed me in and turned the key.

I listened to their feet cross the yard.

Then I sat down on the bed, took out my needles, and counted them.

Five.

One was still in Leland's elbow, and by now somebody had probably pulled it out.

I did not mind.

It was the first thing in two lives that I had taken back from this house.

Voices drifted in through the wall.

Two maids had settled on the back step, the way they had last time.

"Master Leland's arm still won't bend," the first one whispered. "The doctor's with him now."

"The doctor can't find a thing wrong with it."

"She just touched him?"

"With a needle. A little one. Like she was sewing."

They went quiet.

The first time I had lain in this bed, they had joked about maggots.

Tonight they did not joke at all.

Somewhere past midnight, the key turned in the lock.

I was on my feet with a needle between my fingers before the door opened.

It was Tobias.

My fifth brother stood in the doorway in a grey sweater two sizes too big, one hand against the frame, a covered plate balanced on his other palm.

He was twenty-one and he looked fifty.

His skin was the color of old paper, with a yellow tint under the eyes.

"Don't stab me," he said. "I brought chicken."

"How did you get the key?"

"I told the maid I'd tell Father she let the cook's nephew sleep in the pantry."

He came in and sat on the only stool, breathing.

"I'm Tobias. I wasn't at dinner. I'm not allowed to sit up for more than an hour."

"I know who you are."

"Do you?" He looked at me in the dark. "I thought you'd never met me."

I took the plate so I would not have to answer.

It was cold chicken and a roll.

Last time, nobody had brought me food for six days.

"The whole house is talking about the needle," he said. "Leland has a bruise on his elbow the size of an egg. Delphine's been crying since ten."

"Is her wrist hurt?"

"She says so. The doctor thought it looked fine."

He gave a small, tired laugh.

"I think that was the best thing I've seen at that table in my entire life."

"Give me your hand."

He held it out without asking why.

I laid two fingers on the inside of his wrist and shut my eyes.

His pulse was thin and fast, with a skip in it every fifth beat.

I pushed my thumb gently against the swollen skin over his ankle bone.

The dent stayed.

"How often do you pass water?" I asked.

"What kind of a first question is that?"

"The kind my grandfather asked."

"Twice a day. Less, lately."

"Since when?"

"Three weeks." He frowned. "Before that I was getting better. My doctor said I might be off the list by spring."

"Which list?"

"The kidney list."

I opened my eyes.

In my first life, he had been dying all spring, and the family had said there was only one cure.

They had said it in the sitting room, over my head, while I carried a tray.

I had given up my right kidney to him.

I had not asked why he had gotten worse so fast.

"What medicine are you on?"

"Three kinds. Delphine sets them out in the little case every morning." He pulled a green plastic pill box out of his sweater pocket. "She's the only one who's careful. She says the rest of us would forget."

"Show me."

He opened the lid for me.

Each day of the week had its own small door.

I tipped Tuesday's door into my palm.

Two white round tablets and one pale blue capsule rolled out.

The tablets I knew.

The capsule I did not.

"What's the blue one?"

"Vitamin, I think. It's been there for about three weeks."

"Three weeks," I said.

"Is that important?"

I did not answer yet.

I turned the capsule between my fingers, then pulled the dosing sheet from the bottom of the box.

It was written in Delphine's neat round handwriting.

Two white tablets, morning. One white tablet, night.

It did not say blue anywhere.

I twisted the capsule open over the sheet.

A grey powder fell out, and it smelled faintly of bitter almonds.

I closed my palm over it.

My grandfather had kept a jar of that powder on the highest shelf of his dispensary, behind three locks.

He had called it "the quiet killer."

A little each day would not poison a man outright.

It would sit in his kidneys and wear them out slowly, until everyone said he must have been born that way.

Tobias was watching my face.

"What is it?" he whispered.

"Where does Delphine keep the key to the medicine cabinet?"

"On her necklace. Why?"

"Tobias, I need you to do two things for me."

"Anything."

"Don't take the blue capsule tomorrow morning."

He nodded slowly.

"And don't tell her I asked."

His eyes had gone very wide.

I tucked the capsule into my sleeve next to the needles.

"Faye," he said. "What's in it?"

Out in the yard, a door slammed.

Delphine's voice floated across the dark, sweet and clear.

"Tobias? Tobias, where are you? It's time for your evening tablets."

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