anew [maggie, day 6]

m a r g u e r i t e

What am I waiting for?
Feet planted beneath
My compass, my transport

When Marguerite pulled her blade from Marceline’s stomach she stood and watched the blood pool at her feet. She had gone six days without taking a life (she didn’t count the business of Harley as a true kill, even if she’d been the one to do most of the damage).

They didn’t talk about what to expect after killing someone. You’d think for a district that invested so much time and energy into making killing machines, they’d teach them to process what it meant. Marguerite held her stare on the now lifeless body.

Maybe she should’ve regretted it. Killing someone like Marceline, that is. She didn’t know the girl and clearly she had at least one friend in here.

But then their fight had been nothing short of chaos. Each of them had exchanged blows against one another, shifting targets, until at last, the girl from eight had run out of blood to spare. If it’d been just the two of them maybe she’d have caught more guilt.

The wind still brought a reminder of the chill they’d had days before, and Maggie finally turned away.

Somewhere along the shore, Ines could still have been alive.

Marguerite hadn’t doubted she’d survive today. Even with the cannon fire that had come, she had a hunch that Ines had escaped. Her family’s history told a story that more often than not, they’d fight hard for the crown. Whether her story would end in tragedy like the rest, Marguerite couldn’t stay.

She didn’t speak to the other boys.

Each of them had shown flashes of brilliance and foolishness. Then again, that felt very much what boys would do. Rhys fought to save Marceline (and failed). Lionel had fought against everyone (and survived). And Axyl had fought for himself (and walked away with the fewest scars).

Marguerite doubled back from the water and edged along the rocks. She held against the cool stones and swallowed herself up in shadow.

She contemplated calling out to Ines, or mounting a proper search for her. Except the minutes passed and the longing she’d had that morning never arrived.

She listened instead to the quiet crash of waves along the shore.

Alone now, Marguerite would have to face whatever end came for her. Out of the shadows and into the fire.