Oscar pulls me into a tight hug, the first hug he’s given me since my eighteenth birthday. I shudder against him, suppressing cries as I accept his warmth, the familiar affection he’s shown me since I was ten years old.
“Oh, Young Master Atlas,” Oscar coos. “How I hope this is forever. I really hope this is true.”
I nod into his shoulder, my fingertips digging into his back.
I believe I’d give anything to keep this reality, to keep this truth. If I wake up tomorrow and this has all been a dream or a temporary lapse in my condition, I fear I wouldn’t be able to handle it.
It’s New Year’s Eve today. Maybe that has some symbolic meaning.
I’m trying not to show too much joy to my family. Atticus has already given me a curious look, but I think he was just happy to see me acting so freely.
I have spent most of my day in the drawing room with him and our mother and father. Atticus reads from a copy ofRomeo and Julietas he lies on the chaise in the center of the room, and I sit at his feet with his loafers resting in my lap with my copy ofWhere the Wild Things Arein my hands.
Mother and Father are still browsing the floor-to-ceiling shelves, talking quietly to themselves as they giggle.
After some time, one of the large oak doors opens, and Abigail runs in, her white dress smacking against her calves as she slides to a stop in front of me.
For a moment, she just stares, as if assessing me. As if checking for damage.What a curious thing to do.
“Are you okay, my star?” I ask her, reaching out to take her small hand in mine.
Her eyes widen, then a large smile breaks out over her face as she peers back at me. “Yes!”
Her long blonde hair is neatly braided, so I’m assuming that Julian has finally perfected his craft.
Julian!
Now that I’m cured, I won’t taint him if I lay hands upon him. He won’t run in disgust or terror due to my having a condition, a curse. I could actually have him…
Only, I cannot. Because he is employed by my father, and I doubt he’d be willing to risk his job just to fool around with me.
And even if he was, or if my father agreed to the relationship, once he learned of what Iusedto do, and withwhatI did it with, he’d most definitely hate me.
I am suddenly dejected. I am suddenly not living so freely, so happily.
Even if I am cured, that demon will follow me for the rest of my life. It has embedded itself into my skin. I have been condemned and will remain this way until death.
“Where have you been, little one?” my mother asks Abigail who still stands in front of me with wide, green eyes.
“I was with Julie. He braided my hair as an apology.” She grins, whipping her braid around to emphasize his handiwork.
“Apology?” Atticus pries, sitting up quickly and throwing his book to the side, which, of course, just means it lands right on my lap, over his feet.
“Yes, for leaving me. He’s going to a New Year’s Eve party tonight with his friends.”
“And that’s something he should apologize for?” Mother asks, a hint of amusement in her voice.
“Of course!” Abigail yells, her lips falling into a pout. “He should be here for the holidays. He even stayed for Christmas, but now he is leaving me for New Year’s Eve.”
“Julian is a grown man, little one. He is allowed to make his own choices. Has he not done everything for you? Does he not deserve to have this freedom?” Father asks, turning from the bookcase to give Abigail a stern but loving look.
Her hands fall loosely to her sides, her face falling. “He does,” she concedes.
“Aw, come here,” Father coos, and Abigail runs to his arms, just as she has done a million times before. Just asIhad done a million times when I was a young thing, too.
“Isn’t it just lovely how Julian cares for you?” Mother asks Abigail. “How he is willing to play with you on days when he isn’t working? He must truly care for you, sweetheart.”
“Yes, it’s not weird at all,” Atticus says sarcastically. He grabs his book, lying back down on the chaise. “Are we not concerned with how much time ourmaleattendee is spending with our nine-year-old?”
