Denial of a Holy Rat | Temple & Ansgar

It's been a week since she died. A week since the victor was crowned and the country let out a sigh of relief for the year. It's been a week since the entire world caved in on itself.
A week since the fences have been maintained or the dishes done. We are dead things. Ghosts roaming a house looking for something we will never find.

People have come by with food and for that I am thankful for there isn't enough energy between the three of us to cook anything. It tastes like nothing. Like sand spread across a casserole dish.

Someone brings cookies. No one eats them.

I can feel it creeping up my spine and clouding my head. Filling my ears with cotton and blurring my vision. The all encompassing grayness that seemed to paint every edge of the world.

My thumbs are chewed bloody. My hair fallen from its braids but I don't bother brushing it.

I sit upstairs and try not to look at her things. Her clothes, her shoes. I wonder what other secrets are hiding in her belongings. Corners of Kahinta I never got to discover.

My rat squeaks from its spot on my pillow. The little guy has been quiet for most of the week but now demands my attention.

"What?" I ask, exhausted. The rat scrambles across the blankets into my lap, pawing my hand. Wanting me to flip my palm over so I'll scoop him up and take him downstairs, or outside. I'm too tired to move. I keep my hand on my knee and ignore his struggles.

I look back to Kahinta's side and the rat digs his teeth into my pinky finger.

"Shit!" I yank my hand away and glare at the little rat perched on his back feet on my knee. "What was that for?!"

He squeaks at me like I'm supposed to know.

"You know what, I've dealt with you long enough." I grab the rat off my knee, holding it in fingers as I grab a small box from underneath my bed. It's the little container I usually filled with cheese and snacks for him to munch on during the night. It's empty now and I drop the rat inside and slap the lid closed.

I shove my feet into boots and yank my jacket on over my pajamas. I am across the district before I realize I've left the safety of the house.

I slam my fist against Ansgar Todd's door. It is not the polite knock I used to do at Mace's door to see Enzo and nimble on pastries. It is the pounding of a Peacekeeper come to haul you to the Detention Center in the middle of the night. And I'm screaming like I have any authority. Like I'm anything other than collateral.

"Ansgar Todd! Come out here this minute!"