I PUSH AWAY THE LIGHT BROWN HAIR FROM CARRIE’S FACE. Her face is ashen. She gives a heart-stopping scream. I squeeze her hand and she stops, sobs wracking her body. Her palm is sweaty, fingers squeezing me back. Her eyes slowly open and she screams my name.

“It’s okay, Carrie. I'm right here, I’m right here,” I whisper.

I can tell she’s fighting hard to become conscious. I swallow the tears coming up. She will make it. I tell myself. She will make it.

I hold her hand in mine as the time ticks on by. I don’t know how long it has been since I’ve entered the tent. Every second that goes by, I try to reach out and grab it, but it seems to slip through my fingers, over and over.

“I can not lose you. I can’t lose you,” I repeat.

***

I don’t sleep. Everything darkens, and there is nothing but a torch to illuminate the tent. The terracotta light gives an eerie glow to Carrie’s pale face. No one has bothered to tell me, but I know it. She isn’t only suffering from blood loss; no, it’s much worse than that. I can tell by the way Carrie has lost memory of people around her, how she shrieks while unconscious. They poisoned the knife. My clutch on her hand tightens. Sweat adorns her forehead. Is she really going to make it? I think over and over.

“Fight it, Carrie. Don’t leave me now. You’re not alone anymore,” I say.

“It's poison, isn’t it,” I hear Zak murmur from beside me.

I say nothing, gawking into the empty face of my sister. My sister that I love so much; my favourite person in the world. It must have been hours sitting next to Carrie, but I refuse to leave. Someone has tried to force me out of the tent, but that didn’t end well and they left me alone. Every time I look away, I’m afraid of what will be there when I look back.

Then it happens; for the first time in hours, Carrie slips into consciousness.

“Darsal,” she croaks, voice raw.

“I’m right here, Carrie,” I whisper, as I edge closer.

“I love you,” she whispers.

“I—I love you too, Carrie,” I say, kissing her on the forehead, ignoring the heat burning my lips.

It’s the first time I’ve said these words. They feel strange to my tongue, but I know it’s right. I love Carrie more than I will ever love anyone else.

“I love you, Darsal. I love you,” she breathes until there is nothing left; as her eyes slowly close and her hand loses its grip; as the burning heat slowly cools and as her face goes bloodless.

“No! Carrie, no!” I sob, cry echoing through the Guardian camp.

Tears well up in my eyes and sliding down my face. Her grey eyes close slowly. I know it’s my last time seeing those eyes; large, grey, admiring eyes. My limbs go weak and I crumble under the weight of the realization. I will never hear her laugh, watch her run across the green fields, chasing butterflies. I will never hold her again as she falls asleep. Carrie is dead.