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It is an unforgivable decision, but the only one she could possibly make. It would have to be Girl. She knows that, she had known that from the minute she had made the decision for them to try to travel the river. She wishes she had not become attached, her conscience does not feel clean and it is because she raised this child. She raised Girl the girl and damn her, she let herself let the child into her heart, without knowing it was happening. Now she will sacrifice Girl, and it will hurt more than anything she has ever done.
Malorie did not give them names on purpose. She knew Tom thought it was pointlessly harsh, just like he thought everything about how she raised them was harsh. She doesn't know how to explain herself to him, even naked under covers with his body against hers and the warmth of his skin still warming her own body. Malorie knows he wants them to have hope. It's why he tells them those stories of trees and children. Things that Boy and Girl will never have. They might not even have blood still pumping through their veins at a moment's notice. All it would take, to lose one of those children, is just a slip of the blindfold. One careless mistake. Malorie had been frightened of loving Boy even when he was just some creature in her stomach, foreign and placed at the bottom of her cares. She had thought of giving him away back then, had not wanted to suffer some helpless baby who would take away her artistic expression through breastfeeding and tears and time. It felt too raw, too vulnerable. Some women were not meant to be mothers, Malorie was one of them. Now every decision Malorie had to make was for Boy and Girl. She loved them, maybe. If that was what this ball of worry that tightened every time that she thought of the world around them, of how the children would never know the bliss of experiencing all the things Tom gives them in stories she knows will never be their realities. Malorie snaps at them, frightens them to make them listen and survive. Tom tells them of tree branches in hands and the innocence of a world left behind for five years now and yet he calls her cruel.
Tom is dead. He died because he was fucking stupid and gave his life to save them from the psychos trying to make them see the creatures. He died for them, for Boy and Girl. And for her, for Malorie. Would Malorie die for them? She thinks of Girl's laughter, of Boy's smile, of Tom with his hand on her stomach back at the beginning of all this madness. Malorie hopes she would not. That would be the practical answer. To know that she is an asshole, like her father was and like Douglas. That she would rather commit to self-preservation than self-sacrifice. She knows that is not true, that if more psychos surrounded them here on this boat, she would die for Boy and Girl, almost does. The man had been killed by the machete, his blood warm on her hand. By now, the death hardly fazes her. Malorie is perhaps more frightened by the knowledge that she would have thrown herself in front of Boy and Girl, if she had not killed him. But she pumps the oars and continues down the river anyways, guilt in her stomach because she knows that she cannot die for them, even though she has realized that she would in a heartbeat. She is the only one who could steer the boat down the rapids, so she cannot be the sacrifial lamb.
When it comes down to it, Girl is not hers. Malorie rationalizes it with that callous thought repeating in her head. Boy was the child she had, she is obligated to preserve her own child than the child of a woman long dead. Besides that, Girl has the lesser chance for survival into adulthood. She is smaller than Boy, more likely to die from an illness or a psycho or some combination that only this nightmare of a world could bring upon them. Girl does not listen to Malorie. Not as well as Boy does. She is a stupid child, trying to save Malorie by putting herself in danger, not staying put. Malorie knows that even past bloodlines, Boy is the prime example of the brightest future, the one she can best predict survival for, though she has dismal predictions for the survival of any of them. And besides, damn it all, Girl is not her true child.
Malorie hopes it won't hurt, Girl's death, that is. But she knows it will, wonders how Girl will do it, once the creatures drive her to madness. Jumping off the boat is the most likely way, to simply drown herself. It would be easy enough, in the rapids. Malorie knows Girl knows Malorie has chosen her die. She wonders if Girl thinks she is hated by her. She hopes she knows she was loved, that Malorie wishes it could be her to die and not Girl. But at the bottom line, she chose Girl to die instead of Boy and Girl knows it. She should be grateful, when Girl volunteers herself finally, her child's eyes already filled with the knowledge of her duty to die so Boy can live. It's not so much of a volunteering as it is Girl not wanting to hear Malorie actually say it, who will look. Malorie knows this is what she needs, what Boy needs. Girl needs to die so they can live.
And yet, as Malorie looks into Girl's eyes, she sees the baby she pried out of Olympia's hands. She sees Olympia making her promise to take care of her baby. She see Girl giggling as Tom bent his head close, just about to tell the children what he saw at the top of the tree. She sees her child, just as much as Boy is hers, and she is utterly fucked.
It is an unforgivable decision, but the only one she could possibly make. She just may be damning them all to a death's sentence, but Malorie for once cannot make the smart decision, cannot be practical. The words come out of her mouth unbidden, and yet she realizes that from the start of her trip she had always known the true answer. They would travel the rapids blind. Nobody would be looking.