Page 218 of Carousel

He’s going to get torn right away from me.

I don’t think. Just swing open the outer door. The roar of the wind is monstrous. I leap through the airlock and grab Cosmer’s wrist – just as his fingers slip from the edge of it. I grasp an internal safety handle with my other hand, and keep to the glass so I don’t take the full force of the wind, which is still clawing at him. Trying to take him from me.

He locks his fingers around my wrist. Brings his other hand on top.

A small brass machine on the platform is flashing. An arrow within the pressure gauge is quivering. Oxygen is dropping, I realise. We’re putting the lives of everyone else on the ship at risk now.

My shoulder is wrenching. I hadn’t anticipated the strength this would need. I plant my feet. Grind my teeth. I can’t hear my heavy breaths, but I can feel them, drawing out harshly through my mask.

Time must still be passing, but we’re locked like this, me using all of my weight and strength to hold onto him. I’m sweating from the exertion, and very aware that if my palm clams up any more, I’ll let him slip.

Don’t let me lose him again, I beg the Sisters. Even though, if Old Mother is to be believed, they would be insulted by this love against them. Would feel crossed by me asking anything of them, when it comes to him.

And then I’m angry at them. Because they’re clearly not listening. Maybe this wind is the sound of their rage. Their spurning of me.

You have taken so much from me already today, I remind them. He’s all I have left.

Please let me have him.

Please.

And maybe they really do hear me. Feel something for me – even if only pity.

Because Cosmer kicks out, and the suction cup connects again with the glass. I could whoop, if I didn’t have this mask over my face. I no longer have the full weight of him on my shoulder.

He sort of swings himself, and his other foot catches the glass, too. I feel even more relief.

My heart could soar.

We’re going to make it out of this.

His hands still in mine, he moves painfully slowly towards me again.

And then he’s here. His mask is inches from mine.

I can pull him in.

But maybe the Sisters have changed their mind at the last second. Have decided to take him from me as quickly as they gave him back to me.

Because I watch through my goggles, powerless, as the strap over his left shoulder snaps. Before I can process what’s happening, the oxygen cannister slides off his back, and is lost.

He lets go of me with one hand to throw his now-pointless mask off.

Through my goggles, time slows down. I see him squinting through the wind at me. He’s apologising to me. I can see him, even now, straining not to breathe. His hair is still blazing. His face is white. Like he’s already a ghost.

But again, I don’t need any thought process to know what I need to do.

What I need to sacrifice.

My skin is already burning in anticipation of it. It’s like my magic is counteracting the wind. Pushing it away from me. Giving me strength.

I reach for the white light. Bring my masked face as close to his unmasked one as possible.

I speak a single sentence into his mind.

Take my mask from me and use it for yourself.

He must know what I’m trying to do.