Before, his words were, no doubt, violent. His actions were aggressive, but never deadly. Even now, even when he pretended to hate me, and I him, he was so gentle when he finally caught me.
He took his hand away from my mouth, holding my waist firmly as he ground against me, my hips knocking into the wood of the tree. Then he began to pull at his belt.
“Silas, stop.” The words were barely a breath.
“Do you say that because you want me to stop”—he lingered by my ear—“or because you don’t want to admit how this makes you feel.”
“I...” I shook my head, the knife trembling in my hand. “I want to stop.”
To my surprise, his body was still. We were still. He pulled away just enough to look at me, but his eyes didn’t lift to mine until a beat later, like there was something he didn’t want me to see.
“Please,” I whispered. “Can we... can we stop?” I dropped the knife, and it landed in the snow behind us. I revealed my palm to him to bear proof of my disarmament. It wasn’t until I saw his expression change that I realized my face was hot. And wet. “I want to stop,” I rephrased.
He dropped me, withdrawing completely.
My back scraped down the bark as I landed in the snow at his feet. He rolled his shoulders, as if it was some annoyance being a terror to me. With an air of nonchalance, he dressed. Buttoned his trousers closed and tucked his shirt in.
He checked his trouser pockets, patting several of them before looking down at me and holding his hand out.
I brought my hand up to his, and he swatted it away.
I stared in confusion before he cocked his brow, pointing. “Cigarettes.”
I reached inside the coat pocket, pulling out his silver cigarette holder before it was snatched out of my hands, and then I was staring at his backside.
“Keep the coat; I can buy another,” he jeered over his shoulder as he retreated down the path, leaving me under the fir tree, humiliated, used.
Bastard.
21
THE FIXER
Giving me the task to stalk the Catholic must have been a lark coming from Silas, but I went anyway because where there is a hospital, there will be blood—among other fluids.
Every task, even as a joke, is the perfect opportunity to play a part. I had decided it was time to play doctor once more. It is not like I would be fraudulently impersonating a doctor; I had re-done my medical training of all kinds every fifty years or so, or when something new was discovered.
I borrowed a morning suit and frock coat from the hordes that Alina’s Nest kept, though the hospital was small enough that they may have been excited to receive any new doctors at all, no matter how nicely they dressed.
“Excuse me?” I asked a passing nurse.
She stumbled when she saw me, though I could not gauge if it was from shock or from being flustered due to the cloth mask covering her mouth. I assumed my scar was a bit jarring.
“Y-yes?” she asked, her furrowed brows indicating she was confused at the unfamiliar doctor.
“Could you point me to phlebotomy?” I attempted my friendliest smile.
“That would be down the hall and to the left.”
“And what about osteology?”
“All offices are on the first floor. Are you looking for any doctor in particular?”
“It’s my first day—I’m shadowing a nurse. She gave me instructions, but I’ve forgotten exactly where I’m supposed to be. Her name is... Eden?”
“Oh, Edith! Yes, she should be just upstairs. Come, follow me,” she chirped as she nearly fluttered from the desk.
The hospital was an older building, but it was updated regularly. The nurse babbled about the new wing and then littered her tour with complaints about small annoyances over the structure or the inventory.
