Iyisha made a small sound in her throat, something between a gasp and a whimper, before she could stop it.
The thought that she could die today had hovered all morning like a distant shadow, something unreal, something her mind refused to fully touch, but now that there was certainty, fear crashed into her all at once.
Her breath hitched painfully. Her chest tightened. Around her, others began to whimper, soft broken sounds slipping out despite every effort to stay quiet.
"No," someone whispered.
"No, no, no."
The couple who had let in the community just before them clung to each other. The woman shook her head again and again, tears freezing on her lashes. "Please," she begged, her voice cracking. "Please."
He shook his head once, firm, unmoved. "Those are the rules," he muttered, staring past them as if refusing to see faces made this easier.
Malcolm.
