Sever by Lauren DeStefano

he realized I wasn’t her. It stays now. He understands that I’m not a ghost. I’m a girl, and one who hasn’t always been especially kind to him.
    “I promise I’ll say good-bye this time,” I say. I feel certain I’ll cry if I say anything more.
    I listen to the monitor steadily relaying my sister wife’s pulse, and I think of how far away Gabriel is. I don’t know that I could ever love him the way that Linden and Cecily are in love, or the way Linden and Rose were. I never saw the point in exhausting so much emotion on something there are so few years to enjoy. I never planned on getting married, though in weak and foolish moments I let myself pretend there would be time for such things.
    But this surge of longing that comes to me now—is it love? I’ve never felt so alone.
    We can change so many times in our lives. We’re born into a family, and it’s the only life we can imagine, but it changes. Buildings collapse. Fires burn. And the next second we’re someplace else entirely, going through different motions and trying to keep up with this new person we’ve become.
    I was somebody’s daughter once, and then I was somebody’s wife. I’m neither of those things now. This sullen boy sitting before me is not my husband, and the girl he’s fretting over isn’t me, will never be me.

L INDEN LOOKS at the clock mounted over the door.
    “Maybe you should go to the cafeteria,” he tells me.
    “Do you need me to get you something?” I ask.
    He shakes his head, watches the motion of Cecily’s chest as she draws a troubled breath. She’s been asleep for hours. “My father will be here soon,” he says. “It’s best if he doesn’t see you. He’s rushing over from a conference in Clearwater. He said it would take him a couple of hours, but that was this morning.”
    My blood goes cold. “You called your father?”
    “Of course.” He says this louder than he perhaps meant to, because Cecily’s eyes open. She stares at us through a haze, and I’m not sure if she’s awake. Linden pushes the hair from her forehead and leans close and says, “You’re getting the best possible care. My father will see to it.”
    At that her pupils dilate. I can see her immediate fightto regain awareness. It’s like watching a person that has fallen through the ice and has nothing to grab for. “No,” she says. The acceleration of her heart makes the beeping on the monitor intensify. “Linden, no. Please, no.” She looks to me for help, and I grip her hand.
    “What’s the matter, love?” Linden says. “Nobody is going to hurt you. I’m right here.”
    She shakes her head wildly. “I don’t want your father. I don’t want him.”
    But it’s too late. Her nightmare has arrived. I can hear his voice in the hallway, calling her name.
    And then he’s here.
    Vaughn brings with him the smell of spring rain and earth. It has always been a smell I associated with life, but right now it’s choking. His hair is wet and windswept, his coat dripping, his boots muddying the tiles. “Oh, Cecily,” he says, “I’m so sorry about the baby. Perhaps if you listened to me about staying in bed, it wouldn’t have happened. You always were too reckless for your own good.”
    Of course he’s blaming her for this.
    She’s kicking her legs, propelling herself away from him. I’ve never seen her so frightened. The girl who has spent the last several hours asleep is now squeezing my hand with enough brute strength, I’m certain, to bruise bone.
    “Please, love, you have to lie back down,” Linden urges. “You’re not well.”
    But Cecily doesn’t even hear him. “You did this,” shetells Vaughn. “You’ll bury me alive the first chance you get.”
    The faraway stare in her eyes terrifies me. She’s sitting up now, speaking in whole sentences, but she’s muddled by delirium.
    Vaughn brushes past me and leans over her bed. I think he’s going to grab her arm like that morning outside of Reed’s house, but he